Wayne and JoAnne Aagard, now in their early fifties, have also been working a long time to open up their souls to one another. In some ways their current pastorate at Saint Michael’s Presbyterian Church in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, is a good setting for their personal struggle; the congregation is strong, the Session cooperative, the two associate ministers competent as well as loyal. Unlike some of their earlier posts of duty, there are no fires raging in the membership.
Wayne in some ways is another David Owens (see chapter 14)—handsome, energetic, goal-oriented, at the peak of his powers, in love with the ministry. Some might even call him driven. He does not come off that way in public, however; he moves easily among people, his greetings and stories lighting up their faces.
JoAnne, on the other hand, is not quite the self-starter Jackie Owens is. She has carried a running quarrel with the “pastor’s wife” image from the beginning. Her model as a girl growing up was not positive, and so she did not want to marry a minister. But she wanted Wayne. She insists she cannot do the expected things well (play the organ, speak to groups); hence, the public ministry will never be a full reward for her. Instead, she wants her husband. She wants soul communication. She wants quiet togetherness, not because she has begged for it but because her husband freely arranges it. That is hard for Wayne to remember in the swirl of pastoring.
Underneath this couple’s propriety and courtesy to each other, conversation does not flow freely. They tend to sit across the room from each other, not only in the parish hall on social occasions but in their own living room while being interviewed. They weigh their words carefully before responding.
Both agree that in the beginning of their marriage, they could hardly have gotten off to a worse start. Their first year in Toronto was a blur as Wayne, fresh from college, was a youth probation officer and also served as a youth pastor. Both jobs amounted to full-time work, and both supervisors insisted on excellence. He says:
I don’t think I was home three evenings that whole year. And we moved four times. That’s real smart!
Plus, our family started right away. Had that not happened—had JoAnne had the opportunity to keep going to school or do something on her own outside the church, that would have helped her self-esteem and sense of security in herself.
It was altogether the wrong springboard for the future—all those things.
JoAnne, like many brides, came into marriage expecting wonderful sharing and romance. Instead …
I think I was probably in shock that whole year. I just didn’t know that was how it was going to be. I didn’t protest (that came later), but I couldn’t believe that what I had thought would be so wonderful was reduced to my being totally alone in a strange place. I didn’t have a car, so I couldn’t go be with friends at the college. All I remember is fixing supper, him running in to eat—and then leaving again.
When June came, the couple retreated to JoAnne’s parents’ home in Owen Sound to await the birth of their child. JoAnne’s father had to help with the hospital bill, while Wayne worked in a canning plant.
In the fall, they returned to Toronto to begin seminary. In time, Wayne was placed in a student pastorate, and the following year, a second son was born. Mothering consumed JoAnne’s attention for the time being.
A strange lack of stamina seemed to plague her, though; in the first pastorate after seminary she found she needed an afternoon nap along with her preschoolers just to make it through the day. She caught infections easily. Says Wayne:
I thought she was just depressed about being in the ministry. She was wiped out all the time. I kept going back and forth from guilt, for putting her in this position, to anger—”Why can’t you adjust to this? You knew I was going into pastoral work.”
JoAnne cast the problem in spiritual terms as well, assuming she was not dedicated enough. Only when they came to Barrie several years later did a doctor identify her low blood sugar and begin medication.
The Aagards remember Barrie, however, for another reason: here was where JoAnne finally uncorked the tension that had been building inside.
I was just so hungry to have a relationship with Wayne. I really loved and admired him. But we didn’t work as a team, because I didn’t have the qualifications, plus the kids, my health, and everything.
I didn’t want to detract from what he was doing. But I wanted to be with him. So I went about it the wrong way. The build-up of frustration, of being “submissive” and quiet, finally reached a breaking point.
When I went to a doctor about my health, I found out I had been eating all the wrong things, and diet changes would help. I didn’t tell him about our [relationship] problems, but he read them anyway. He said I should throw some dishes, break some plates, swear at my husband—and then we should go out, have a glass of wine, and talk!
When JoAnne did confront her husband at home the first time, he was mortified.
It was a very shattering thing for me. She said I really didn’t need her; she was just there to be used, take care of the house, and all I was ever concerned about was the ministry. It just floored me.
I went in the living room, fell down on my knees, and began to weep. I hadn’t realized I was such a rotten husband.
Wayne apologized, resolved to mend his ways, and a week later suggested they go out to dinner. JoAnne read that invitation, however, as something she had manipulated—which took all the romance out of it. What she craved was an overture from him without being prompted.
Wayne’s response: “JoAnne, I want to do these things. I want to be with you. You have to tell me what pleases you, so I know.” This approach-avoidance pattern has continued to be a difficulty throughout the marriage.
Life would seem to level out for two or three months, and then JoAnne would unburden her feelings again: Wayne didn’t really love her. There really was no place for her in his life. All he cared about was the ministry. That’s why he said yes to every speaking engagement that came along.
I felt I really bared my soul, my self, my femininity, my deep person in explaining how much I needed and wanted him. Afterward, I felt somewhat cheapened to have to do it again and again, and not receive what I wanted.
The more she talked, the more confused Wayne became. His wife’s relational needs seemed insatiable. He finally went for counseling, but when the counselor asked to see JoAnne as well, that embarrassed her. Another painful argument ensued.
Wayne was taking his day off a week, playing with his young sons, driving the family to a park or one of the many lakes nearby. Both spouses remember enjoyable times in Barrie along with the bad. The problem was deeper than time together; it was rather the lack of communion, a zone where husband and wife could unwind together, be safe, and share their deepest selves.
After four years in Barrie, they made a major move: out to the western prairies to a large church in Saskatoon, where Wayne would be an associate minister. By now the boys were well into their grade school years. The upheaval was difficult for JoAnne, but on the other hand, she wondered if perhaps a new setting might bring them closer to a solution.
Wayne remembers one winter night when the mercury hovered at twenty-nine below.
We sat talking by the fireplace for a long time, just the two of us. And at the end, she said, “Well, thank you for talking to me.”
I thought, Mama mia! So this is what the lady wants! OK, now I’ve got a clue. Run with it.
But I’d get so involved in the work that I’d forget.
Soon Wayne opted for an even longer move, a bold venture: the pastorate of the International Church in Beirut, Lebanon, in 1975. This meant enrolling their boys, now high schoolers, in the city’s American High School at the semester break in January. Wayne began his ministry among this English-speaking congregation of diplomats, educators, and business types the first Sunday of February.
Everything went well—for two and a half months. On April 13, Lebanon’s civil war exploded, with rightist and leftist militia as well as the PLO all determined to annihilate each other. The crown city of the Mediterranean erupted in carnage, and within two days the Canadian embassy called to say, “Evacuate to Cyprus.”
Wayne and JoAnne quickly packed three suitcases, gathered their sons, and headed for the airport. The next three months were spent waiting and worrying in Nicosia. What now? All those mission dollars, contributed by hundreds of churches large and small from British Columbia to the Maritimes—down the drain. Wasted. JoAnne openly questioned whether her husband hadn’t gone into the ministry out of family pressure rather than a call from God. That led to a nasty argument about whether to return to Canada and seek a different line of work. But at age forty-two? How?
Says JoAnne:
Something died inside me there in Cyprus. I didn’t feel like trying anymore. I didn’t want to be hurt or vulnerable. I lost the ability to cry.
That’s still true; I’m sorry about that. So many times I just need to cry about our marriage. I don’t know if that will ever change.
On July 2, as the fighting raged on in Beirut, the Aagards boarded a plane for Rome and thence to Canada. Wayne did not quit the ministry; he took a charge in Peterborough, a medium-sized city northeast of Toronto, and tried to resume pastoral work. He encouraged JoAnne to take an outside job, hoping this would diffuse her unhappiness. In that, he was correct. She received both compliments and raises at the government office where she worked as a secretary.
The church, however, was an opposite story. Wayne found himself locked in a desperate political struggle with powerful members of the Session. The question of leaving the ministry loomed in his mind all over again. But without an alternative to consider, he plunged into his work with feverish energy, lest he lose the battle at the church and be dismissed. That meant fewer nights home than ever, and more tension with JoAnne.
I said to myself, “How can I go on being a pastor with this unresolved?” It was a spiritual defeat for me. I was going through great internal insecurities—and I was all the security JoAnne had.
If a business opportunity had come along just then, I would have split! I was going day and night. So once again I heard, “Your whole life is the church. What do you need me for? If you loved me, you’d be home more.”
After six years of stress, both partners were relieved to escape to the quietness of Nova Scotia. The Yarmouth church has welcomed them warmly and fallen in step with Wayne’s initiatives. From the upstairs parsonage windows, you can see the Atlantic Ocean, and the bobbing of the fishing boats in the harbor has been a solace to their spirits.
In some ways, their most impassioned speeches are over now, and there is no use repeating them. They talk about their relationship in quieter tones these days. A bit of light even breaks through occasionally, like the day JoAnne said, “You know, you’re essentially a nonemotional person. I don’t think you even have needs.”
Wayne thought about that a long time and then replied, “Actually, my emotional need is to do my best in the ministry. That’s my drive. Not that I’m complete in my work; when you’re away, I feel very lonely. But the center of my fulfillment is what I do at the church.”
That statement clarified things for JoAnne:
While I didn’t like to hear it—because I felt it excluded me—it did help me understand his behavior all these years. His job is very total for him. I can’t blame him like I used to.
A lot of our life together has been so good in so many ways that I should not drag up the problems, I guess. I am finding more ways to be fulfilled in ministry now. Our kids are doing well; it’s a good time.
We’ve gone to seminars and read the Christian books on marriage. But I feel as leaders there’s a lot we preach that we’re not putting into practice.
On Monday mornings—Wayne’s day off—they drive up the shore to a favorite restaurant for breakfast together. It is a commitment he has made in his calendar to nurture the marriage. JoAnne, however, sees it differently:
The first thing he does is ask for the Halifax newspaper! We’re both news junkies. So we each take a section and read—it’s almost comical.
We’re happy and enjoying the morning, but unless we force ourselves to talk deeply, it doesn’t happen. Otherwise, we just talk about the news, go run some errands, and return home.
That’s our time together—but it really accomplishes nothing to build each other up or discover ways to share insights.
Wayne, on the other hand, carries his own memories of being rebuffed. Like the proverbial ships passing in the night, their overtures to each other somehow keep missing the mark.
I get up in the morning before she does, and I’ll grind the coffee, make it, and bring her a cup in bed. Before flowers got so expensive, I used to bring her roses from time to time. But the things I do that I think are romantic don’t seem to get a sense of appreciation or response in warmth. So then I say to myself, Why am I doing this?
We’ve had our times of sexual coldness along the way. I’ve tried to be affectionate and warm without any advances—just rubbing her back, for example. My concern has been her enjoyment. But when she doesn’t respond, I end up thinking, What does it take? I get resentful at being rejected.
A couple of years ago, in one of the tense times, I said, “Do you just want to be brother and sister? Is that the relationship you want? If so, let me know, because although I’m assertive, I’m not an army general.”
She didn’t answer. To talk about our sexual relationship is almost impossible. She was raised very conservatively, and although she has moved somewhat—sex is no longer dirty to her—there’s still some reserve there.
JoAnne describes their physical relationship as “not growing—very ho-hum.” She tells about buying a Christian book on sexual enrichment and finding it helpful. She shared it with Wayne, but he never got around to finishing it, she says. “Maybe I approached him wrong or something.”
One time Wayne and I were out walking together, and I said, “Let’s think of our marriage as a cruise. You be the captain, and I’ll be the cruise director. I’ll think up the interesting things to do!”
He said, “That would be fine.”
But then there was a little ruffle of some kind. I planned something creative to do one evening, and I got the impression he wasn’t so hot on the idea. We sank back into our routine.
An irritant over the years has been Wayne’s love of tennis. JoAnne confesses she has “not been a nice wife” about the amount of time he has spent on the court. They say they want to begin playing together now, although JoAnne’s skill level will be no challenge for her husband, and that may cause problems.
They cling to the memories of vacation trips they enjoyed together, the times when deep communication happened almost by accident. Their sons are now grown, the older one training for the ministry himself. The younger one, however, appears to have left the faith and resents what pastoring has done to his parents.
With the passing years, Wayne has come to understand himself better:
I suppose I carry the curse of perfectionism. I’m never satisfied in the ministry; I always think I could be doing better. That irritates JoAnne.
But I’m not an extemporaneous speaker who can stand up and shoot from the hip. Preaching, for me, takes time. If a lot of counseling comes along too, then I end up taking my reading home. And that’s not good.
The process of being interviewed caused JoAnne at one point to say that in spite of everything, she still carries hope for the relationship. Her husband later expressed relief about that comment.
I was afraid she had given up, and that made me angry. I too have hope that I’ll catch on and make the changes she feels I should. In this church, we have the best chance yet to get our act together.
But JoAnne also carries a darker reading of the situation:
We know enough to do better, and have chosen not to. We’re at the point now where we know what each other’s going to say, so why go through it again?
It would take a great deal to make me cry now. I feel the tightness in my chest; the tears are there, and I want to cry. But I steel myself and my emotions.
I know Wayne loves me, and I love him. I admire and respect him, too. I just wish he needed me and would show that, without my having to beg. I am so tired of throwing myself at his feet.
And what if nothing changes? What if the deep desire for self-revelation and intimacy goes unmet?
I’ll just go on. I may not be victorious … but I’m a survivor.
Her husband would say the same. The two of them have breathed the word divorce only a few times in the heat of confrontation, and backed away from it immediately. They are too old for that … they hope. In the absence of progress, they will go on enduring.
Reflections
by David SeamandsThe same kind of confrontation occurs in this marriage as with the Pacynskis, but the result is not so positive. After talking to a doctor who tells JoAnne to blow a fuse, she does. Wayne is shattered. But she has a desire that is found in a lot of North American women (because of television, I think): “I want my husband to do romantic things, but he mustn’t plan or schedule them. They have to be spontaneous, or I can’t accept them. They’re not genuine if they’re premeditated.”
Well, Wayne Aagard is the kind of guy who isn’t going to do anything that’s not scheduled.
This is a built-in hazard of maleness and femaleness, and I see it in a lot of ministry couples. We’re brainwashed—even Christians—into thinking that love, to be real, must be spontaneous. The pastor’s wife especially must deal with this myth, because the nature of a pastor’s work is that in order to give his wife attention and time, he will need to schedule it. If she’s going to say, “That isn’t real; you had me down as just another appointment, and it didn’t come spontaneously out of a great overflowing Niagara Falls of love,” it will kill initiative right away. The nature of the vocation is such that spontaneous moments are few and far between. (The same is true for doctors and other people-helping professionals.)
My wife used to say, “Maybe I’ll go write my name in your appointment book.” But we soon got beyond that as she realized the nature of the ministry, and as I scheduled prime time for just us. We put it in the church bulletin and educated the congregation to know that Monday was our “Date Day.” Soon she was saying, “I can put up with almost anything for six days, because I know I’ve got David all day Monday.”
Other aspects of the Aagard marriage are worth noting:
This pastoral family has moved a lot, and when you do that, you’re constantly trying to win over new congregations. You can’t afford to turn down invitations. You say, I’ve got to please them, especially in congregationally governed churches, where they can vote you out if they don’t like you.
That puts a heavy burden on couples. A pastor feels he must please the people in order to be secure enough even to start serving the Lord.
The Aagards had their confrontation in Barrie, but JoAnne’s unrealistic expectation of spontaneity booby-trapped progress. Wayne was rebuffed, and he then became the wounded one. He had tried to be vulnerable, but his wife had made things almost impossible, he felt, and things began to deteriorate from there.
JoAnne’s stated needs are not practical in light of her husband’s vocation. That vocation, of course, has never been her favorite. She gets no reward out of his work, she says. She’s not fulfilled by co-ministering with him.
I must point out that those entering the ministry these days must be much more careful about whom they marry than in the past. They cannot go on assumptions. A woman cannot say, “Well, I love him, and whatever job he wants to do in life is up to him; it doesn’t concern me.” That doesn’t work; there has to be a deeper commitment if the “job” is the ministry (or medicine or law or politics). Unless the spouse finds fulfillment in this work, things will end in disaster.
Actually, there is enough suffering in the Aagard marriage to force them to solutions, but so far that has not happened. The tension has understandably affected their sexual relationship. Say what you will: A good love life sweetens a lot of bitter things. If this couple could have built intimacy from the beginning, the whole marriage might have taken a different course. Sexual problems lurk in the shadows of so many troubled couples I’ve counseled.
It’s significant that neither one will really surrender to the other and admit needs. JoAnne gives Wayne a book on sex, and he doesn’t have time for it; he ignores it. This is indirect communication. He attempts to do romantic things, but by this time, she is suspicious of all his motives. Every attempt on both sides is defeated by unrealistic expectations. They both have to have it their way or not at all. They forget that sex is the ultimate form of surrender—it’s described that way in Scripture.
If a pastoral couple hits sexual problems early in marriage, they ought to seek help. Sexual therapy can be very important, because a good sex life is a bridge over many valleys. God intended it that way. Sex is one way he coaxed us into marriage in the first place, and it’s a way he holds a lot of things together.
If a couple has a good sex life, I find they downplay it: “Oh, it’s no big deal.” But if they don’t have a good sex life, it clouds every part of their horizon. They think about it a lot; it gets mixed in with every other problem.
The sadness of the Aagards is shown in that both are trying desperately to hang on to hope. They’re not quite to the stage of the Emmaus disciples, who used the pluperfect tense, “We had hoped.…” But they are not far away. They seem unwilling to pay the price to achieve their dreams. And that is one of the saddest things in life: People have dreams, realize the cost, and say it’s not worth the risk and pain.
I don’t think this marriage is in danger of splitting. Wayne and JoAnne are committed to each other, but they’ve settled into sort of a ceasefire: “Maybe this is the best we can do, and we’ll make the best of it.” They’re both quoting, “God’s grace is sufficient.…”
In fact, they can do better, even at this late stage. Studies of marital satisfaction show that the highest scores occur during the middle years, as kids leave home. That’s where this couple is.
I would hope Wayne might make this offer to his wife: “We need help, and we both still have a little hope. But we’re kidding ourselves trying to work it out alone. So you choose the counselor, and I’ll foot the bill. I’m willing to pay the price to have our hopes realized. The best years of our life can still be in the future.”
Copyright © 1985 by Christianity Today
