Beyond the Second Row

I was 24. My heart was full of excitement and anticipation as my husband stood on stage and was commissioned into his first full time youth ministry position. This was our dream. Four years of Bible college, two years of seminary, and now here we were; ready to start putting all this training in to practice. We were dirt broke but full of AMBITION to GIVE IT ALL for the next generation. “Be brave,” I told myself. “You’ll sleep when you’re dead.”

                   I wonder…do I have what it takes to be a pastor’s wife?

I looked across the auditorium and saw her. She was sitting in the second row. Dressed nicely, smiling, and listening with intense respect. She was the Senior Pastor’s wife. In my eyes she earned immediate respect because of her role. Year after year she sat in that second row with that same unwavering, unspoken support to her husband, our pastor.

                I wonder…did she feel the eyes on her every move?

I heard the words but they didn’t sink in. We were being “encouraged” to move out of youth ministry into a role we never imagined. Associate Pastor. I sat on the second row and watched my brave husband break the hearts of all our sweet youth as he told them our time was done. “Be brave,” I tell myself, “your husband needs you to be strong.” 
 
              I wonder…did others see me as brave or did they see the little tear that fell down my cheek?

The next years would be hard. Harder than anything I could ever have imagined. Church destruction at its’ finest. Gossip. Pride. Jockeying. Power. Secrets. Anger. Evil had come to rest upon our church. I looked towards the second row and it was empty. Where did she go? I found her. My second row friend was crying in the corner. I guess not everyone can be strong all the time. I hold her hand and we cry together. I watch our church crumble before my eyes. My husband was on his knees begging out to God for Satan to leave our church. Brokenness. Absolute brokenness. “Be brave,” I tell myself. “Your husband and friends need you now more than ever.”

             I wonder…does Satan view our brokenness as his favorite comedy show?

Sometimes God’s plan makes no sense. Scratch that…it rarely makes sense. Voices. So many voices telling us to take on the role as a Lead Pastor. Our adventurous hearts take it on and we GO.  Now it’s my turn. I sit on the second row and watch my husband commissioned to be the Lead Pastor of this sweet little church. I smile and give him my full support. But wait, was is that? I dare not turn around but I feel the eyes upon me and in that moment…I understand. “Be brave,” I tell myself. “Your husband needs you and this church needs you too.”

            I wonder…how did my second row friend manage to smile when the weight was so heavy?

For 3 years I sat there in the second row. I supported, smiled, encouraged, and prayed. But now our time has come to an end. Again I find myself listening to my husband break horribly sad news to people we loved. There is not much that can be said when God doesn’t give all the answers. “Be brave,” I tell myself. “Your church needs you to be strong. Your husband needs you to be strong.”

            I wonder…did God delight in me?

It’s been 10 months since I sat on that second row. We visit other churches and I feel lost in a sea of people. No one knows my name. I sit in the back row just because I can. I’m distracted by all the sights and sounds. I watch as people play on their phones and fall asleep. I see every little detail and I get lost in my emotions. We visit church after church and feel a sense of dread that we might never find a church that feels like home. My eyes start to wander and they fall upon this beautiful woman on the second row. She holds the pastors hand and smiles as he gets up to preach.

         I don’t have to wonder anymore…I just pray. I pray she will be brave because I know how much she’s needed.