“I just can’t believe it,” they say, appalled by the latest news of a pastor having an affair, committing suicide, dealing with a teenager who was just arrested.
“How could he do that?”
“She did what?”
“Can you believe their children?”
But you see, he could do that, because he’s just like you, human.
She did that, because she’s just like you, human.
I can believe their children acted that way, because they’re just like yours, human.
Though they wear the title of Pastor, they still live in the same broken world you do. They face the same kinds of struggles and hardships that you do, sickness, frustration, family problems. And just like you, they too also sin.
Yet, we are always shocked when their sin becomes public. I have to wonder, are we shocked because of the kind of sin it was or by the fact that those we’ve placed this title on actually sin?
I learned at a young age that pastors and their families are held to a higher standard of perfectionism, while at the same time being expected to be relatable, too. They try to juggle all of the expectations of this combo, whether said or unsaid, often times to the point of tragedy. And when that happens, we’re left wondering how they could have done something so terrible. They were a pastor afterall.
I don’t say this to condone or justify the sin, but to remind you, that we ALL fall short.
As I’ve spoken with other pastors and their families, read stories and articles, visited with church members from multiple churches and of course, scrolled through social media, I’ve seen this theme become more popular throughout the American church.
These unmet and unsaid expectations are dangerous, dangerous for the pastor, for his family, and for the congregation as well as unbelievers, leaving everyone in a place of hurt and confusion, of strife and exhaustion.
Now before you have the chance to misinterpret my words, or create accusations, there are a few things to know before reading further — as a pastor’s wife, I know this title is what God has called me to. I love my church. I love the church. I love being a “ministry family.” I know I still sin. I know you still sin. This world is broken. Believers are held to a different standard than those who don’t have a personal relationship with God.
Now, let’s continue.
I’ve been told numerous times (as have many in this position), “you’re the perfect person for this” — “this” being a pastor’s wife. And though I know they mean well and genuinely mean it as a compliment, I can’t help but wince a little every time I hear the statement made.
You may be shocked, but if I’m being honest I never wanted to be a pastor’s wife. Actually, after growing up as a pastor’s kid, I purposely went out of my way to make sure I would not marry a man going into church ministry.
L O L, I know.
So when I met my husband on our first date and asked what he was studying, I was relieved to hear him say “Speech Pathology.”
Perfect! I’m in the clear, so I thought.
I joke that God knew, had Wes told me he was going to be a pastor, I would’ve never spoken to him again — and He’s right, stubborn 20 year old Alyssa probably wouldn’t have.
Please don’t hear me wrong, I don’t doubt at all that this title is one God purposely designed me for. Actually, I think He spent my entire life shaping and preparing me for this exact role, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less easy or is always desirable to me.
As with any job, it comes in waves, sometimes I absolutely love it and other times I wish I could choose something easier — easier for me, easier for my husband, easier for my children.
But that’s not what God has called us to do, so here we’ll stay in this life of church ministry, because it’s not about what’s easy or hard, it’s about where I, where we as a family, can be used to bring glory to our Father. It’s not about what I can do, but about what He can do through me.
Since I’m being vulnerable here, I’ll be honest and say I’m in a season where I don’t really enjoy going to church. *gasp*
(Am I even allowed to say that?)
Actually, until this past Sunday, I hadn’t been in several weeks. Having a pandemic baby has been wonderful in so many ways, but when it comes to leaving my daughter with new people, it has been the absolute worst.
Just in the last couple months, she’s started tolerating her grandmas to come near her/hold her, so imagine how well it goes over in a nursery with a stranger.
That said, yes, I do continue to drop her off in nursery every Sunday, reassured by those sweet little ladies that “She’ll be fine, I’m sure we can distract her,” only to be called back 10 minutes later, to pick up my (not crying) screaming little girl, taking her away as the sweet, now frazzled and shocked lady hands her over, apologizing for trying everything to no avail. As I tell them, “it’s not you, it’s her, thanks anyways.”
And yes, we do have a nursing room with a televised service, however when you’ve spent almost an entire year in this little room with only your daughter, who is now also at the age where she knows what’s outside of the room, so she fights staying in, but also fights nap time so it’s a battle of stay in/go to sleep/don’t go to sleep 5 minutes before service ends — it all becomes very daunting on you as an adult to essentially go babysit your child in a room at church just to push the guilt you feel to say “yes, I go to church,” to fulfill that unsaid expectation because you are a “pastor’s wife.”
So Wes and I agreed, since I’m already a “single mom” on Sundays, I’d drop our oldest off with him at church time and return home and watch the live service on tv so that I could at least listen to the service vs. entertaining our daughter for an hour and still miss the service. Did I love it? No. But it was better than the alternative. (Reminding myself this is just a season, not the new normal.)
This past Sunday I returned though, mainly because my husband had a volunteer cancel last second, and I was thrilled to step in. For the first time in a while, I felt like I had “purpose” again within my church, I felt apart of our community, something I’ve been missing the past month or two. Serving in the children’s ministry is something I’ve missed, but another con of having a sweet babe that doesn’t stay with anyone. It only worked out for me to serve in this specific class, because it was my daughter’s class, the nursery.
Excited I went, but defeated is how I left that service.
After making a mistake with a bottle mix up, I went home and just cried — partially because of how awful I felt for making a mistake, even if no one was hurt, the thought that I made another parent possibly feel as if their child may not be in the best hands while they’re worshiping was the worst. Then add in the frustration of just wanting to be able to sit through a service myself, next to other adults, not in a little room, trying to entertain my one year old. And last but not least, that unsaid expectation of a pastor’s wife — “How could she have messed up so terribly? She’s the Children’s pastor’s wife after all.”
Maybe it all sounds silly, minor, things I shouldn’t care about or let affect me, and maybe they are in some sense, but the weight still sits heavy some days. The enemy is good at taking those mistakes and frustrations and twisting them, making those wounds go deeper than they should.
Thankfully, after a day of sulking in it all, I was reminded of some things.
In the words of Amy Gannett,
“You’re not ultimately working in response to what people ask of you, you’re working in response to what the Lord has asked of your life. You are accountable to God to faithfulness to what He has called you to do.
Ministry is a gift. Yes it is really hard, but since God has called us to this work, it is a privilege to be a part of His kingdom growth.
He does not roll his eyes in weariness over His people. Or over you.
He does not joke to sarcastically dismiss his people’s needs. Or yours.
He doesn’t show up on Sundays begrudgingly, wishing he was somewhere else or that better people were present. He’s glad to see you, too.
He’s not counting heads, but counting fruit. In your life, too.”
— Amy Gannett
I’m weary. I have needs. I make mistakes. But God sees me, right where I’m at, and He still wants to spend time with me, to invite me to have a part in furthering His kingdom.
Isn’t it ironic, the identity I tried so hard to run from as a young girl, that title of pastor’s kid — the shame, the frustration, the pressures of living up to people’s unsaid and unmet expectations, always feeling as if I fell short, no matter how “perfect” I tried to be, is the very identity that God redeemed and in turn placed back on me, as Pastor’s wife?
My view of this title has drastically changed since moving from “child” to “wife.” Two perspectives that are both similar and very different, but overall much more healthy. Any less hard? Not necessarily.
But I am more aware of the enemy’s lies and how he uses my past to try uproot me sometimes, bringing up feelings and emotions that “pastor’s kid” had to try to shake me up when I know the work that comes with this title is worth it, despite how hard it may be at times.
The beauty of it is, pastor’s wife is just another earthly title, just as pastor’s kid is, just as daughter, sister, mother, friend and any other title may be.
But my identity, it’s not found in that title, thankfully, in any of those titles, despite what the enemy may try to whisper or shout, my identity is in Jesus, and in Him alone.
All that to say, pray for your pastors, pray for their wives, for their children, for their families, and friends, for the ministries in which you support them and have placed them as leaders over — they need you, just like you need them. It’s not a one way street. We are all called to carry the cross, to share the gospel, to love, to serve and to bring Him glory, so may we all do that as one.
Though they may carry a title that has unsaid or unmet expectations by many, they are still in fact just as human as you are, walking through this same hard life that you are, enduring sickness, struggles and frustrations, just as you are.
So the next time you see a pastor, a children’s pastor, a head pastor, a worship pastor, youth pastor, whatever kind of pastor they may be, let them know you’re praying for them, give them a hug, a cookie, a “hey, thanks for what you do.”
A little encouragement and love goes a long way — and to those who are doing this so well, THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart, your words, your love, it may seem small or insignificant to you, but the impact it has is far greater than you’ll ever know.
And if you’re a pastor, a pastor’s wife, or child of a pastor, I see you. It’s hard, but for the glory of God, may we press on, serving and loving just as Jesus loves us.