Story of a Pastor’s Wife

I vaguely remember this class project I did in the sixth grade. We went around to each classmate’s desk and wrote in their notebooks what we thought they would be when they grew up. I think we were supposed to base our assumption on what we’d learned about them through said project, but I can’t remember exactly. All I know is at the end of the day when I looked in MY notebook, I read numerous notes from classmates that said I was sure to work in a church, be a missionary, or marry a pastor someday. I was mortified. Without even trying, I’d gained a reputation for being a Bible-carrying, Jesus-loving nerd. Surely I had more potential than my fellow classmates presumed. For me, at the tender age of eleven, my future held only two reasonable options: become a teacher or the next Mariah Carey, (ideally both, of course). Clearly, my middle school peers hadn’t heard the various renditions of “Vision of Love” I’d tape-recorded on my karaoke machine, or witnessed my excellent leadership skills on the playground. Fast forward eight years and guess where I was? Working at a church as an intern for my former youth pastor, pursuing a degree in Bible & Theology with a minor in Youth Ministry. Life is funny like that.

By then, of course, I had embraced the idea of working in full-time ministry, but I had yet to pin down what that meant for me exactly. I grew up in the church. I was a faithful youth group attender for seven years. An adult volunteer, Maureen, prayed with me and led me to Jesus one night when I was in the sixth grade. The adult volunteers were such a huge part of why I loved attending. They were the ones who made me feel welcome, loved, and accepted. When I graduated from high school I knew I wanted to pay it forward. The years I spent working as an intern, and volunteering with high school students were some of the best of my life. But working so closely alongside my youth pastor, I saw firsthand the toll full-time ministry takes on a marriage and a family. I rarely saw his wife. All I knew was there were many nights he wasn’t home for dinner. I knew he was gone for nearly four weeks of the summer while we went to camps and led mission trips to Mexico. I knew she had to share him with the students and with the church. I knew I didn’t want that life.

One summer while co-leading a trip to San Diego with students, my dear friend, Gino, sat down with me over coffee and began asking me about my dreams for the future. He affirmed my gifts of leadership and passion for ministry and then he said, “Ya know, you’d make an incredible pastor’s wife. I have a strong feeling you’ll end up marrying someone in full-time ministry.” My response? “NOPE.” In addition to sharing their husbands with the church, I also had a strong impression that pastors’ wives took a backseat to their husband’s careers. They wore cardigans and cross necklaces. They sat quietly in the front row every Sunday while their spouses soaked up the spotlight. They were behind-the-scenes personalities, bringing casseroles to every potluck and singing in the choir. They were servant-hearted, and comfortable playing a supporting role. That wasn’t me. (This may come as a shock to you, but I like being the center of attention almost as much as I like being in charge of everyone.) I knew I was gifted for leadership and teaching, and I just didn’t see how that would mesh well with the giftings of a pastor. There would be “too many cooks in the kitchen,” as they say. Fast forward four years later and guess where I was? Saying my marriage vows to a full-time pastor (while my friend Gino serenaded us on his guitar). Life is humbling like that.

When I first met Zach, we were taking a Youth Ministry class together in college. I liked him instantly, but when I found out he was a junior high youth pastor, I headed straight for the door. I didn’t want to get pulled into youth ministry life, and certainly not with junior highers, (gangly, immature combinations of potty humor and lack of personal hygiene, in a nutshell). But God had other plans. The first couple of years of marriage in ministry were rough for me. My husband envisioned me serving alongside him as he mentored and led junior high “tweenagers.” It was a far cry from the high school ministry I had worked so passionately during my early college years. I struggled to find my place. As my struggle grew, so did my resentment. I knew I needed to find somewhere else to serve, even if it meant leaving Zach’s side in ministry. I remember seeking advice from fellow pastors’ wives at the time. I was feeling so guilty for not sharing in my husband’s zeal for the 12-year-old demographic. The other wives were quick to assure me that marrying a pastor does NOT mean you need to surrender your gifts and passions. They encouraged me to find my niche, somewhere I could use my strengths of leadership, hospitality, and encouragement for God’s glory. (Our Senior Pastor preached every Sunday, counseled members of the congregation, and was a complete extrovert. His wife preferred to host small groups in the privacy of their home, teach piano lessons and sit in the back on Sunday mornings, out of the limelight and away from the watchful eyes of churchgoers. Yet they were both serving the Lord faithfully.) I’m so grateful for their advice. It freed me. I stepped away from the junior high ministry that year, and in the years since, I have found so many other ways to serve that have allowed my gifts to shine. I’ve hosted countless volunteer meetings and small groups. I launched a mom’s ministry from the ground up. I’ve mentored college students. I lead Bible studies. I write a blog. I understand now that being a pastor’s wife doesn’t mean I am destined to stay in the shadows. I’ve met many pastors’ wives and we all wear the hat in our unique way. There is no cookie-cutter pastor’s wife, but we all share our husband’s love for God’s church and His people. Zach and I are so very different, yet we are unified in our mission to love the lost and broken people of this world. We both lead with hearts that desire to see God’s kingdom abound. We just do it in our own way.

My impression of a pastor’s wife has changed drastically since I was a 20-year-old youth ministry intern. The notion of playing a supporting role used to put a sour taste in my mouth. Today I am profoundly humbled by the opportunity. The calling to become a pastor is not for everyone. No pastor will tell you he pursued a career in ministry for the money, the fame, or the stellar benefits. It’s a career of service, of daily dying to self. It’s a labor of love for God’s people. It’s also not a calling to take lightly. The Bible makes it clear that pastors are held to a higher standard. Just read 1 Timothy 3 and you’ll see what I mean. “Whoever aspires to be an overseer desires a noble task. Now the overseer is to be above reproach, faithful to his wife, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not given to drunkenness, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, and not a lover of money. He must manage his own family well and see that his children obey him, and he must do so in a manner worthy of full respect…He must also have a good reputation with outsiders,” (v.1-4,7). I read this list and I see how crucial my role as a pastor’s wife is. How can any pastor hope to fulfill this calling without a wife who stands faithfully behind him?

More than any other ministry I feel led to serve in, ministering to my husband is my first and foremost priority. It has to be. We have many friends in full-time ministry and we have seen many of them stumble, some even crash and burn. It is hard work and hard work can quickly lead to burnout and vulnerability to the enemy. Our marriage has struggled through seasons of the same. The times I’ve seen Zach struggle, are often the same times I’ve dropped the ball in my supporting role. When he comes to me seeking wisdom and support, I need to be present and engaged. He thrives when I am diligent about covering Him in prayer every day. He thrives when I put down my phone and give him my full attention at the end of a difficult day. He thrives when he feels heard, respected, and safe in our home. He thrives when he knows there is nothing else I’d rather be pursuing than his heart. When he thrives, our church thrives. Zach can’t take his calling lightly, and neither can I. I’ve been in the spotlight many times. I’ve taken the stage, I’ve fulfilled leadership roles. It’s rewarding for sure, but nothing holds a candle to seeing my husband step in and embrace his calling as a pastor. Watching him love God’s church, shepherd the lost, and counsel the brokenhearted, gratifies my soul more than any personal pursuit. I have the gift of leadership too, but I am a better leader because I watch my husband lead. I don’t have to compromise who I am to be a pastor’s wife. His calling to ministry only strengthens and compliments my own. What a privilege and honor it is to be his wife.

Last week we celebrated fourteen years of marriage. Remembering all the times I said I’d never want this life, I’ve never been happier to eat crow. Life doesn’t always go the way we thought it would. God’s ways are so much higher, bigger, and better than ours (Isaiah 55:9). Don’t you just love that?