Tom glanced at his watch.
He stole a deep breath as his fingers struck the numbers on his phone screen. He could already hear the sigh of his wife through the phone before he even dialed.
This routine had passed beyond old into downright frustrating.
“Hey hon,” he started. As the words came out, he imagined her rolling her eyes.
“Yeah?” She countered.
This wasn’t going to go well.“I think I’m going to be late ton—,” The phone clicked. Silence.
A frustrated sigh escaped.
Tom leaned back in his desk chair and blankly stared at the computer screen. The half-filled spreadsheet’s cursor blinked.
He oscillated between rage, sadness, and numbness. His mind flitted back and forth from justifications to questions. Eventually, the words, “Doesn’t she understand?” boiled to the surface and played on repeat.
The next time he glanced at his watch, it was past 10pm. The kids would long be in bed, she would be passed out from frustration and exhaustion, and dinner would be cold on the plate in front of his place at the table.
Tom consoled himself. This was ministry. This was for the Lord. This was his sacrifice for the kingdom.
The next day, she sat across the kitchen table. Snow drifted outside as sunlight crept across the floor. The kids had made their exit for the bus and the only sounds echoing through the house were the tick of the clock and the scrape of a fork.
Tom stole a look at his wife. She stared off into space.
“Are you alright?” He asked, mouth full of eggs.
The words snapped her back to attention and he saw her mind whirl with options on how to answer. Finally, she opened her mouth, thought better of it and closed it.He pressed further.
“What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer. He set his fork down and let his shoulders fall a little. He didn’t need this right now. With all the stress of the church, the bills piling up, the several church members in the hospital, and his associate pastor quitting on the spot...home drama didn’t seem necessary.Finally, she softly answered, “It’s not important.”
For a moment, a streak of pain flashing across her face quieted his pride.
“No, it is. What is going on?” He asked. She now had his fully undivided attention.
She shifted in her seat and thought for a long moment. He waited, wondering if perhaps she had forgotten that he’d asked her a question.
“You’ve replaced us,” She offered up.
Every fiber within him desired to yell out, “After all this, you’re going to be selfish?” But he bit his tongue. Instead, what came out was a simple, “Why would you think that?”
“Because everything is about ministry and the church,” she answered. “You’re never home...and when you are, you’re not really here. You’re everywhere else. I’m tired of feeling like this is a pit-stop on your way to something else.”
He gripped his fork a little tighter. She obviously didn’t understand what he was dealing with on a daily basis.
She paused to regain her composure and continued.
“I’m beginning to wonder if you’re actually doing it for Jesus or if you’re doing it for yourself.”
The words bit. His emotions snapped at the implication and he lost his bearings.“For myself? For myself? Everything I do is for everyone else! God called me into ministry, so that’s what I’m doing! I’m sacrificing myself for this ministry because He asked me to. He wanted me to get into this. You want to question my love for Jesus? Of all times...now?”
He saw tears begin to well up in her eyes, but he couldn’t relent. It was as though he was watching himself explode, and all he could do was observe his own meltdown.“Instead of supporting me as I sacrifice every part of myself, you always nag about time and being home. You make this ten times harder, because every time I know I have to do something for the church, I’m going to get blowback for it. You don’t understand my burden because you’re always so focused on me being here with you and the kids. I’m tired of hearing about this and how much you think I’m failing when I’m doing everything I do for the Lord!”
To his surprise, she didn’t wilt. There was no head in hands or sobbing. No slamming doors or cold-shoulders. Her eyes bore into him. Not with venom, but patience and conviction. Her mouth pursed and her chin stayed level. He recognized a strength that had never been there before.
Keeping eye contact, she methodically stated, “You devote yourself to ministry. I get it. I’ve been right there with you making sacrifice after sacrifice. But I want to ask you two things: First, why did God give you a family as your first ministry, only to make you destroy it over a church ministry? And second: Are you actually doing it for Jesus, or are you worshipping the idol of ministry work and telling yourself you’re doing it for Jesus?”
Her chair scraped against the wood floor. The sound echoed through the empty house. As she stood, she smoothed out the wrinkles on her shirt. Leaning onto the table, she caught his eyes as he slumped back. It felt like he had smashed headfirst into a wall.
“Isn’t it funny that we end up worshipping idols that take our time, energy, and focus, yet we tell ourselves that we’re worshipping that idol for Jesus’ sake? What if he took your church from you tomorrow? Or ministry in general? Would you be okay or would you be struggling because your identity is wrapped up in ‘ministry work’?”
She paused and then let the heaviest words drop squarely on his head, “What if he took your family? Would you sleep with a clean conscience or regret of how you handled THAT ministry?”
Tom slowly raised his eyes to catch hers. He sat, transported to his childhood. Tiny legs hanging over the edge of the chair type childhood. The truth burning holes through every prideful and arrogant defense concocted to protect his ego.
“You tell yourself it’s for Jesus. But I wonder whether it is. If that idol got smashed tomorrow, you would be broken beyond belief. I wouldn’t have a peaceful and content husband—I’d have a man who has no identity left.”
As she turned to head to the bedroom, she looked back and left him with the simple words, “I’m struggling to know whether or not I already have a man with no identity outside of his ministry.”
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