The Wife of a Pastor

It’s been a couple of issues now since Julie Stiegemeyer left Higher Things Magazine. Since we’re always the sort to look up old friends, especially when we have to fill up a couple of pages, we thought we’d take a walk inside the fishbowl for a hard-hitting interview on what it’s like to be the wife of a pastor.

HT: It’s been six months now since you left the magazine. How is life without the expense account and company car?

JS:You have an expense account? And a car? Since when did—

HT: Er, that came out wrong. We meant to say, “What’s it like being a pastor’s wife?”

JS: Just to clarify, my husband is not currently a parish pastor. He’s—

HT: Batman!

JS: —the director of admissions at Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne, Indiana. However, he served at a congregation in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for seven years.

HT: He’s not Batman?

JS: No.

HT:You could just be saying that to conceal his real identity.

JS: I suppose so.

HT: Hmm.Well, describe a typical day in the life of pastor’s wife.

JS: Most days were filled with the usual humdrum activities of everyday life—cooking, cleaning, putting a sick child to bed, weeding the garden, or taking the pets to the veterinarian.

HT: Good thing you didn’t put the pets to bed and take the kid to the vet.

JS: That’s very funny.

HT: You’re just saying that.

JS: Yes, I am.

HT: Oh.Where were we? Ah.“Humdrum activities.”

JS: Well, occasionally, something interesting would happen. Like the day we set off the smoke alarm trying to burn our palms for the Ash Wednesday ashes. Or the day my son sent a baseball through a church window. Or the day our dog escaped the parsonage yard and ran into church during VBS.

Or the night a homeless man arrived on our doorstep at midnight. Typically, however, the days spent in the parsonage were uneventful.

HT: It’s a good thing your son didn’t send the dog through the window on Ash Wednes—

JS: (sighs) Do you have any other questions?

HT: Maybe a few true or false statements.

JS: Okay.

HT: True or false: pastors’ wives don’t cuss, spit, or burp.

JS: Is that really appropriate?

HT: Well . . .

JS: I’ll say this: we’re not perfect. We’re sinners just like everyone else, and crummy days have a way of getting to us as much as the next person.

HT: True or false: pastors’ wives are skilled in Greek, Hebrew, and family issues so they can give answers when their husbands aren’t around.

JS: Hmmm. I love God’s Word, and I’d never want to diminish pastors’ wives’ interest in or joy they take from learning about theology. Some pastors’ wives are deaconesses or social workers or counselors and their vocation is all about deeds of mercy and caring for people. But many of us are just average laywomen who may be able to give a defense for our faith, but we can’t quite articulate it like our pastor-husbands can. I can listen to my friends’ problems and hopefully on occasion dish out decent advice, but I’m not a counselor.

HT: Ok.True or false: Pastors’ wives love to play the organ.

JS:That’s easy. It’s true for those who do. Personally, I’m a singer, not an organist. Keyboards and pedals leave me a blubbering nervous wreck.

HT: True or false: Pastors’ wives are always excellent cooks.

JS: Again, true for some, not for others.

HT: But you can make coffee.

JS: Sure.

HT: If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like a latte.

JS: Anything else?

HT: And a poppyseed muffin.

JS: No, I meant do you have any more questions?

HT: Just a couple more. True or false: pastors’ wives know everything that’s happening in a congregation.

JS: Not true, nor should it be. I may have known about someone being in the hospital before others simply because I took the message. But that doesn’t mean I know the intimate details of a confession my husband heard—nor should I ever. The pastor speaks God’s Word and breathes the forgiveness and blessing of Christ on those seeking Absolution. But that’s not part of his marriage. Often, I’m the sounding board for my husband, just as he listens to me. But he’s got to keep some things to himself.

HT: True or false: when pastors and their wives have kids, their kids are perfect.

JS: Aren’t you a pastor’s kid?

HT: Enough said. One more. True or false: pastors’ wives don’t have first names.

JS: Wrong. Pastors’ wives want to be known as Julie who writes or Sara who weaves or Meg who teaches or Jinger who homeschools.

HT: And you would want to be known as . . . Sara?

JS: Julie.

HT: Right.

JS: The truth is that we’re all different. We all have different strengths, weaknesses, interests, and opinions—just like everyone else. We’re individuals who have lives apart from our husbands and our Church. That doesn’t diminish our faith. We try our best to find our niche in God’s kingdom and serve others, rejoicing in the forgiveness that is ours in Christ. We have disappointments and imperfect relationships, but we also have wonderful friends who love and help us. We have cancer or infertility or depression or other problems to deal with, but we also have the blessings of Christ poured out on us.We live out our vocations, love our husbands, tend to our children, and make the occasional pot of coffee for forty people.

HT: About that latte...

JS: To go?

HT: Yes.

JS: Coming right up.

HT: A final word?

JS: The truth is that I, a pastor’s wife, am redeemed by Christ, loved by Him, and devoted to serve Him the best way I know how. But it doesn’t mean that I am better than anyone else or have some special prayer link with God. It means simply that I love my husband, and I am just trying to be myself without the myths.