It was the last day before Christmas break, and my daughter arrived home with one of those brown paper bags, our names scrawled along with stick drawings and color. She wanted us to wait until Christmas to open it, so she tucked it underneath the tree right away. Peeling back the paper on Christmas morning revealed a canning jar she’d decorated with a plant already growing in it. Because it had been hidden in the dark bag for a number of days, it looked a little sick.
However, with some sunshine and air and water it was growing strong months later, so strong, in fact, that the clear jar revealed roots that had grown deep and long. The jar was so full and the roots so entangled that I couldn’t have even got it out of the jar without damaging it, though replanting it was probably the only way for it to keep growing. Deep roots are like that; the longer they are the more pain in the pulling up and replanting.
DL Moody once said that the problem with a living sacrifice is that it keeps getting back off the altar. How true that is for me when I look back at my initial challenge to step out in God’s call to be a pastor’s wife—mostly because I have deep rural roots, and it hurt to have them pulled up.
I grew up “across the field” from my grandparents with aunts, uncles, and cousins all living within a mile radius of one another. That close network of family relationships shaped who I am in so many ways, and I am grateful for them, but it was those roots that made it so difficult for me to be that living sacrifice.
I keenly recall the evening I knelt by my dorm room bedside as a young woman with my favorite family photo resting in my open hands. It was a crisis moment for me because I knew that my roots were not going to be dug up without pain. I knew God was asking me to obey his call to go wherever He asked, even if it meant not going back “home” to minister. I had to offer this lifeless idol that could not save (Isaiah 45:20)—that of being near my loved ones and having their understanding and approval my whole life.
Did I really understand the implications of all that then? Not a chance! What I knew was my God. I knew my love for Him had to supersede all other loves. That meant some tearing up and rooting up; some pain was going to come, but that path leads to blessing, whether God calls you to be a pastor’s wife and move far away from your family or not.
How have I seen leaving my family, going first across the country, three days drive away, and then across a country and cultural border as a blessing?
First, and foremost I have peace deep in my soul, knowing I have obeyed God. Those specific directions will look different for each one of us, but ultimately when we trade our worship of any idol for worshiping Him, we know the freedom that can only come through falling at the feet of the Living God Who is the Only God (Isaiah 45:22).
Second, I have the opportunity to expand my love for the people whom God has created. In the church in which I grew up I saw many pictures of tribal people and European souls and Asian ladies—my rural church taught me to have a heart for the nations as God does. But I didn’t really know the true meaning of that until I got out of my own comfort zone and went out to live it, to interact with people who are different from me, and learn how to love those that didn’t think or live the same way as me and all those with whom I grew up.
Finally, I have learned the joy of participating in the sufferings of Christ. As we open the new blog year at Flowers for the Pastor’s Wife we are focusing on the theme of JOY. When we feel the pain that is required of being a living sacrifice, we can remember the promise of the theme verse we have chosen for this year: “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5 ESV). We can endure the sufferings, knowing the joy that is before us, like Christ did.
Who was more misunderstood? Who faced greater temptations? Who knew what it was like to leave the most perfect home and family that ever existed? And what has He done for me? How can I sacrifice any less?
Oh, and that plant in the jar,I never did get to transplanting it. Do you know what happened? The roots rotted in the jar, became putrid and died. Sometimes we have to be transplanted to grow.
“Praise the Saviour, ye who know Him. Who can tell how much we owe Him? Gladly let us render to Him all we are and have.” -Thomas Kelly
Wendy, thanks for sharing these thoughts. It is much needed encouragement for me. I often feel far from my family who live in Sudbury, ON and I am in Stratford. I know God’s call is trustworthy and He is faithful, but sometimes being far away is more than I can handle, even after all these years!! So, anyway thank for the encouragement.
Wendy, Thanks so much for putting beautiful words to similar sacrifices I have made as a fellow pastor’s wife… in particular leaving close family. Your words were a blessing to my soul. May the Lord strengthen you this day.
I frequently hear from other pastors’ wives that being away from family is one of the most difficult things about being in ministry, especially when you are in a rural community where you watch the people in your congregations doing things with their families all the time, including many attending your church together!
Just this week my daughter made a comment about how she feels that a lady from our church is like an aunt to her and that her kids are like extra siblings. It reminded me of what I’ve seen God do for us: God has given us special people in our churches that become our spiritual family.
When I connected with another pastors’ wife this summer who also receives this blog we both mentioned that Matthew 19:29 has been a real encouragement to us: “And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or farms for My name’s sake, will receive many times as much, and will inherit eternal life. ”
As I said in this article, the sacrifice is worth the eternal rewards and blessings.
Wendy
Wendy,
I needed to “hear” this today. Thank you for being faithful to encourage other pastors’ wives.