Confessions of a Pastor’s Wife

When we married 14 years ago and I agreed to serve in the ministry alongside you, I thought that we would teach a Sunday school class, do some fun youth group activities and maybe do a few mission trips (preferably to Hawaii or the Bahamas), but I absolutely didn't bargain for this.

There was the youth group camping trips where I slept on the ground in a tent in the middle of the woods and the annual ski trip where I did not ski (instead I sat at a table in a crowded ski lodge holding seats and watching the youth group's backpacks). Then there was the mission trip when I drove a 16-passenger van in a strange city, taxiing the team back and forth to their work destination. Let's not forget the all-night lock-ins where we were the only adults with a church full of hormonal, sugar-filled teens.

Let's not forget the all-night lock-ins where we were the only adults with a church full of hormonal, sugar-filled teens.

I signed up for youth ministry, yes, but nobody told me that I'd also be the church secretary, music director, outreach coordinator, and marketing/communications officer. There was also summer Bible camp to run, the community tutorial program to facilitate, and out-of-town guests visiting our church to host. No, I didn't think it would look like this at all.

When I would get some downtime, you were gone doing your thing for the church.

Between Tuesday night tutorials, Wednesday evening pulpit search committee meetings, Thursday night elders' meetings, and Saturday youth group activities, it's a wonder that we had time for anything else. You were also responsible for preparing all the PowerPoint slides for Sunday morning worship. This was all in addition to your real job as the managing editor of the newspaper and my part-time job as a freelance writer and full-time homeschooling mom. It was difficult to even have a date night because we were either working or exhausted.

I often thought, Why can't we go to church, find some seats near the back of the sanctuary, sing a few praise and worship songs, give our offering (I was even willing to give a little extra if it bought me some free time) and go home like everybody else? Why are we here Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and then Sunday again? Why do I have a key to the building? Why do I know the security alarm codes? So many questions would race through my head.

I admit it, sometimes I felt jealous of the regular parishioners who came to church for an hour and a half once a week and then went home and watched the ballgame or went to the park or took a nap and did nothing at all. Why couldn't that be us?

When the pastor left and other members of the fellowship followed, why couldn't we have left, too? After all, this is Atlanta. There's practically a church on every corner and there are plenty of congregations—ones that teach sound, biblical doctrine—that we could have gone to. We could have at least shopped around and found a nice-sized church where we could have blended in and become virtually anonymous.

Yes, I was angry at some of the former members for leaving because I felt they had abandoned the mission. People want to go to churches that can offer them a variety of choices—a thriving children's ministry and youth group, an impressive choir, rigorous Bible studies, and a great worship team complete with spotlights and smoke. We don't have any of that.

Many of them left because they knew that we were a church on life-support and that in order to rebuild, it would take a lot of back-breaking work—and they were right. The church dwindled to 35 members and basically became a church plant.

I kept asking myself, "Why not walk away?" Just leave, forget it, and wash my hands of the whole situation. This ministry stuff is messy.

I kept asking myself, "Why not walk away?" Just leave, forget it, and wash my hands of the whole situation. This ministry stuff is messy. It's time-consuming. It's gut-wrenching. It's thankless. Sometimes it's lonely and it's hard. So what is it that keeps me going?

I've thought about that question a lot over the last several months and my answer is simple. What compels me is Jesus. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can actually imagine him hanging on the cross and I ask myself the question, "What kept him nailed to the cross when he could have come down or never gotten up there in the first place? What kept him from releasing his wrath against such unjust punishment?" It's those times that I find myself surrendering to the conviction of the Spirit and weeping because I know the answer. It was me. I kept him there.

Lately the Lord has also been whispering a message to me. And it's humbling. He's been saying, "Deanna, this is not your church. This is my church and I will build my church. It's not on you to make any of this happen. It's on me. You just show up, keep being faithful to do what I tell you to do, and let me do the rest."

One Sunday morning I had a conversation with the interim pastor's wife. I remember telling her that I was feeling discouraged about church ministry in general and our congregation's situation in particular. She shared that she and her husband had recently helped a congregation whose church was failing. Their membership had dropped down to 12 people and, barring a miracle, they would have to close. She told me how the Lord had brought them a permanent pastor who was willing to work for free until they were able to get back on their feet and that the church now has a thriving membership of over 150 people. That story encouraged me. I figured if God can do it for them, he could do it for us!

The Scriptures promise, "Ask and you shall receive." Over the past 18 months I have asked other believers in the community for help. I have been amazed by their willingness to share the load of ministry. It's been such a blessing to have Christian friends come alongside me, and give of their talent and time. I discovered that I was not alone and that the Body of Christ is truly a family. Just like family, we're there for one another.

God, in his perfect timing, has brought us a permanent pastor and even additional members as a result of another congregation from our denomination merging with us. Having new members means more hands to help and I have been able to let go of some of the many duties that I've been doing. The burden has been lifted and the load lightened.

A funny thing happened on the journey and the messiness, God showed up (not that he wasn't there all along), and breathed new life into me. He's given me a renewed sense of purpose—a clearer direction of his call on my life.

Isaiah 40:31 says, "But they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." It's true, because I feel a sense of urgency to use my gifts and talents to serve the body of Christ and to reach the lost like never before. So we continue, together as a couple, to fulfill that calling.

Deanna Johnson Cauthen is a youth pastor's wife, mother, home school teacher, and writer.