Dear sister, fellow laborer in the field and beloved in Christ Jesus,
There are those who would say your role in the church ought to be no different than that of any other congregation member. They are trying to guard against the undue pressure or unwarranted authority that might come with the title of, “pastor’s wife.” And they are right and helpful to some extent. God has given spiritual gifts, talents, circumstances, and capacity that are particular to you alone, and I hope this letter finds you flourishing in your church.
Yet you may have found, especially if you are called shimu, see-moh, or samonim in your church, that the “I just happened to be married to the pastor” approach is not always helpful. In our settings and cultures, life doesn’t operate with these clear church-life and home-life boundaries, of your husband’s calling versus yours. The man you married has been called to ministry, and you have been too.
I thank God for the balm of friendship with many of you, for the gift of seeing your lives up close, sitting in your homes as you minister to congregation members, learning from your examples. I think you may resonate with Eugene Peterson’s description of his wife’s calling in his memoir, The Pastor.
From her early adolescence Jan had wanted to be a pastor’s wife…For Jan, “pastor’s wife” was not just being married to a pastor; it was far more vocational than that, a way of life. It meant participation in an intricate web of hospitality, living at the intersection of human need and God’s grace, inhabiting a community where men and women who didn’t fit were welcome, where neglected children were noticed, where the stories of Jesus were told, and people who had no stories found that they did have stories, stories that were part of the Jesus story. Being a pastor’s wife would place her strategically yet unobtrusively at a heavily trafficked intersection between heaven and earth.
Years later a Carmelite nun, a good friend by that time, was visiting our home…Sister Genevieve said, “If I had been raised Protestant, that’s probably what I would have wanted. And if you had been Catholic, you probably would have aspired to being a nun. It was our respective ways of entering holy orders.”…[Jan] thanked our friend for blessing her, for including her in a vowed life of eucharistic hospitality. The term clarified what she had aspired to and then named what she had experienced a sacred vocation, holy orders, pastor’s wife.
(excerpt from “The Pastor)
I don’t know if you also felt called to be a pastor’s wife. I did, and felt God leading me into ministry at a young age, a calling confirmed by my marriage to Jeff who would indeed become a pastor. But whether or not you felt the same desire to be a pastor’s wife that Jan Peterson did, or were surprised (or reluctant) at the call, God has also placed you “strategically yet unobtrusively” where you are now–in your local church as your husband’s wife.
There are blessings and burdens that come with every vocation. Together I’m sure we could write lists upon lists of the joys and privileges of being a pw or smn. Still, there are hard things, and I’ve found that one particular difficulty of being married to the pastor is the unique nature of the burdens we are called to bear.
As ministry wives, our lives are always on display to those around us to some measure, even if only before a small congregation. But much of the service and trials God has called us to aren’t known to or experienced by most. This isn’t to say that our burdens ought to be secrets, just that they are not necessarily public nor always easily understood by others. Bearing them is difficult, and the feeling of being alone as you do can compound their weight.
I hope you have other ministry wives to sit with, other women similarly called, who understand the highs and lows of ministry life (and ethnic churches too if you’re in one!), and who can urge you to look to Christ through it all. There is real comfort in knowing we aren’t strange for struggling, that we are not alone. Sometimes all we need is a person who loves and understands us to say, “I see you!” Still, the greatest comfort I have found in ministry has been knowing I am not only seen by people, but by God himself.
In Genesis 16, Hagar, fleeing mistreatment from her mistress, meets the angel of the Lord who speaks comfort and a promise to her. In response, she calls God El Roi— “the God who sees,” declaring “truly here I have seen him who looks after me.” God saw Hagar, and she recognized it in her encounter with him. He saw her in a way that was personal, as one who understood her situation completely. He looked at her as the one who looked after her. And I want to encourage you with this thought today, that as you labor in your partly public yet largely hidden holy calling as a ministry wife, the same is true for you.
Your burdens may be heavy, but no matter how alone you may feel as you carry them, our God is the God who sees. And oh, dear sister, that you would know today that truly, truly, you are seen.
God sees you as you wash the feet of the saints. When, after a full day in the workplace, you come home to guests and invite them to stay. When you stretch that meal for a few more mouths, widening the circle of “family” to include all those in the household of God. He is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints, as you still do (Heb. 6:10).
God sees as you hold down the fort at home during early morning prayer, evening meetings, missions trips, and emergency calls. What a privilege to stand at the “intersection of human need and God’s grace”, to teach your children to joyfully pray for dad on the missions field, to let them see firsthand the value of unseen realities and eternal souls. Weariness and loneliness come unexpectedly at times, but he sees as you pick up and carry your cross daily. These slow and inglorious deaths to self are sanctifying and God-glorifying. And our Lord promises that she who loses her life for his sake will gain it (Matt. 10:39).
God sees you as you sit with the sick and suffering. He knows your feelings of insufficiency and sorrow as you listen to the stories and doubts of the hurting. He hears you as you bring their questions and pain to him. He is able to sympathize with your weakness as you do so with others. He carries you, though your words falter, as you slowly walk others to the throne of grace (Heb 4:15-16).
God sees as you strive to listen to his voice, to be a God-pleaser rather than man-fearer. He invites you to cast the pressure of expectations (both your own and others’) onto him. He hears your pleas for the wisdom to know how to respond to different people, needs, and requests. He will give you this wisdom as you make decisions when love for family and the church seem to put the two at odds. And he promises he is able to guard your heart and mind with peace that surpasses understanding (Phil. 4:6-7).
God sees your heart to trust him as you have given up the familiar, moving to a new city and church for the sake of those who will come to know him. Your family goes forth with the authority and presence of Christ. God himself has gone before you and he is with you. He hems you in behind and before. Remember, he has not once failed to keep his promises, and he promises he won’t leave you or forsake you as you go (Matt. 28:19-20).
God sees your desire to trust him and live contentedly on your tight budget. As you turn to him to seek first his kingdom and righteousness, he promises that “all these things” will be added to you. If he clothes the lilies of the field, how much more does he care for you? (Matt 6:25-33).
God sees as you battle temptations while you serve, when you say no to the flesh— to discontentment, envy, resentment, bitterness, cynicism, pride, or worry— and instead walk in the Spirit. He sees these small victories, when you choose contentment, forgiveness, hope, and love. And as you resist the devil and draw near to him, he draws near to you (James 4:7).
God sees you as you minister to your husband. As he carries the weight of a shepherd’s anxiety for the church, in some measure you do too. As he learns to trust God with the church, you too are learning to trust the Good Shepherd with both the flock and its undershepherd. As your pastor-husband learns to walk in holiness and love, you are learning to speak correction or comfort fittingly. Through the ups and downs of ministry, together you are being given a chance to learn to set your joy on Christ. Every blessing and trial is meant for your good and Christlikeness, and God promises that he himself will complete the good work he has begun in the both of you (Phil 1:6).
God sees your tears for your church, as you weep over sin and yearn for God’s people to be brought into maturity of Christ. He knows how your heart breaks as saints fall. He hears the prayers offered in the secret places for the leadership, the struggling, the hard-hearted, the seeking. You have prayed in secret; he sees and rewards (Matt 6:6). And he promises that those who sow with tears will return with songs of joy (Ps. 126:5).
Finally, God sees you–he sees us–as we look with hope to him. The church is not yet what she will be. Our precious brothers and sisters in our churches are not yet what they will be. We are not yet what we will be. But the God who sees us is building his church and the gates of hell will not overcome it. One day, we will see him, and on that day we will be made like him.
Therefore, beloved daughters of the Most High, unseen yet seen in your sacred vocation and holy orders–be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord our labor is not in vain (1 Cor. 15:58).
Your God is the God who sees.
With affection,
Your fellow ministry wife and sister in Christ
This article was first published at Reformed Margins and has been republished here with the author’s permission.