Farmer vs. Pastor

When I was growing up I always pictured myself marrying either a farmer or a pastor. I always wanted to be, or marry, a veterinarian, but for whatever reason I could really only picture myself marrying a farmer or a pastor. I have no idea why I was so drawn to two incredibly different, but incredibly difficult roles, but I was. Growing up in small town Indiana I kind of figured I might end up with a farmer husband, and I really liked that idea. I know that I glamorized this idea in my head, but I pictured myself working out in our big garden pulling weeds, watering, and picking fresh veggies, gathering fresh eggs from our chickens, feeding our cattle and goats, and occasionally playing with a new kitten or puppy. The idea of that labor-intensive role as the wife of a farmer was somehow intriguing and inviting to me. I loved the idea of dirt under my nails, hanging my clothes outside to dry in the sun and breeze, and living in an old farmhouse with a big dining room (that is by far the most important aspect of a house, in my opinion). J

Then in 2008 God sent me to Moody. I had a heart for ministry and serving God in my future profession, so that wasn’t too crazy; but then He turned my heart to women’s ministry. You have to understand that as I was growing up I always loved playing with the boys, and tomboys, of my little town, and the idea of being with women planning tea parties all the time almost gave me hives. But the Lord slowly changed my heart and showed me the need for American women to return to the Biblical definition of womanhood. America needs strong and submissive women (those words are not antonyms), following hard after God. So I submitted, and began studying Women’s Ministry and Biblical Exposition. And then I met Bryan. He immediately crushed every preconceived idea I had in my mind of a pastor. He was hilarious, loud, energetic, and sometimes a little abrasive. He was the most loving, forgiving, and accepting person, with a touch of masculine sensitivity. About two years after meeting him we were planning our wedding. I was marrying a pastor.

Since that almost unbearably hot day in May four years ago I’ve had to give up many of the desires and thoughts I held previously about marrying a farmer. Instead of dirt under my nails, they’re often painted a neutral, church-friendly hue. Instead of living in an old farmhouse with a large dining room, I try to make our little 800 square foot apartment in the city a haven of refreshment for my husband and those to whom we minister. Instead of feeding cattle and goats every morning I take our dog out for a run on the city trails and sidewalks before I head off to work. Instead of playing with a new little puppy or kitten I hold babies in the nursery and at our small group when a mom needs a break. Instead of harvesting from a garden I get to plant a flower in the pot beside our door every spring and wait patiently for the harvest of souls for Christ from our small groups and student ministry.

This role as a pastor’s wife is so different than I originally thought my life would go, and it is exhausting at times, but the Lord is teaching me much about dependence on Him and my need for a Savior every single day.

Philippians 1:6

"And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ."