Everybody has a point of view. Everybody has a perspective. It’s part of being human, part of being a creature with the ability to choose and learn and grow.
Our views vary, depending on our cultural background, age, and current circumstances. One thing I’ve learned in the last 10 years (call them my disappearing 20s) is that just because I have a certain viewpoint today doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed to feel the same way next week.
I used to see everything in black and white, not just biblical truth, not just the things that are supposed to be black and white. Then I grew up. And married a pastor. And realized that life has this way of changing my perspectives about things.
As I write this, I’m multitasking with my laptop while nursing my two-month-old son, Tristan. This time last year, I had just returned from a trip to Russia where I trained local pastors in evangelism techniques to reach postmodern young adults. If you have children, you can imagine how my priorities have adjusted to make room for a new baby. (And if you aren’t a parent yet, you’ll get the idea quickly enough if and when you have a child of your own!)
When Tristan was one week old, we had family worship in the nursery one morning. We usually sing a hymn (because we figure there’s plenty of time later for Tristan to learn all the other songs out there) and then read a devotional and pray together. The hymn that morning was “Tell Me the Story of Jesus.” I hadn’t heard it in a while, and I wasn’t prepared for the verse that begins “Tell of the cross where they nailed Him, writhing in anguish and pain.” I looked down at the beautiful baby boy in my arms, and I couldn’t sing the rest of the song.
I’d never spent time pondering God’s point of view when Jesus died. Not from a parent’s perspective. And the thought of my son suffering, for any reason, made tears drip off my chin.
As I write this, our home is packed up in boxes. Three weeks ago our conference asked my husband to be the senior pastor in a new district. In three weeks we need to be living in a new town, and we haven’t been able to find a home that fits our singleincome-with-a-new-baby budget. This time last year? We thought we’d be staying in this place for several years, and with two incomes housing wasn’t an issue.
I used to think that being a pastor’s wife would bring some kind of position of influence with it. In some cultures, I’m sure it does. But those of you in Western society are probably chuckling at my naiveté. Yes, in Western culture it brings influence, but often that influence feels more like you’re wearing a bull’s-eye. I’ve learned that in my culture, ministry influence comes with time and only after relationships have been developed so that people trust you.
In this new feature for The Journal, I want to share a glimpse into my view of life as a young pastor’s wife. I understand that we may not all have the same opinion and that my views may ultimately change as well. But this feature column isn’t necessarily about being right—it’s more about sharing life.
And I am looking forward to sharing life with you.