Identity Crisis

A little over a week ago, a momentous event took place in my life. After five years in seminary and a grueling round of examinations, my husband was ordained.

Shock has worn off. Reality has set in. I am a pastor’s wife.

(Ok, assistant pastor’s wife, but that’s a technicality.)

In one respect, nothing changed. We didn’t have to pack our bags, didn’t have to sell our house, didn’t have to journey to a new city, didn’t have to worship in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar church family, didn’t have to say goodbye to family and friends, didn’t have to step out of our comfort zone.

In another respect, though, everything changed. And it took me completely by surprise. When my husband took his vows, he took on an enormous spiritual responsibility. I don’t think he’d mind me telling you that he felt out of his comfort zone after all. And I – well, I suddenly lost my grounding – who I am, what my role is.

You see, all through this journey in seminary, I have come to think of “our” ministry at CPC. But when Steven stood up and took those vows, I suddenly felt very separated from him. Think about it. Every other vow we’ve ever made, we’ve made together. We joined CPC as a couple; we made vows. We got married; we made vows. Had our babies baptized; we made vows. “Entered the ministry”; he made vows. I wasn’t prepared for how this would affect me.

My “identity crisis” was valid – the insecurity I felt (and still feel) was “real” and maybe even understandable.

But, I must confess, my identity crisis was also the culmination of a month-long, self-indulgent pity party. I wanted this ordination to be about “us.” When a friend baked Steven brownies during “his rough examination week,” I wanted to scream, “What about me!?” (Sorry, friend.) When everyone congratulated him after he passed his oral examination, I wanted to scream, “What about me!?” More times that I want to admit during the month leading up to his ordination, I wanted to scream, “What about me!?”

And then, to my great shame, Burt drew attention to me. He called me up in front of all these precious people who had come to witness my husband’s ordination, and he honored me. And I didn’t deserve it.

I’m not fit to be a “pastor’s wife.” I know I never will be. But by God’s glorious grace that is exactly the role in which he has seen fit to put me. It doesn’t look like I imagined it would. My heavenly Father has a lot to teach me. I was naïve to think that the journey would be over when “we” graduated from seminary. In fact, the journey has only just begun.