23/07/2026
REPOST
I am a pastor's daughter and a pastor's wife, and let me tell you—I have seen things.
I have seen deacons insist that a pastor's wife take piano lessons because the church pianist died.
I have seen a woman who enjoys more than four weeks of vacation each year and doesn't work summers complain because the pastor was gone for two Sundays.
I have seen church leaders chastise a pastor for the clothes he wore on his day off because they weren't "pastoral" enough.
I have seen church leadership intentionally underpay a pastor because, "We need to keep him humble and reliant on the Lord."
I have seen a funeral become an episode of Jerry Springer as estranged family members screamed at the pastor about how the Christians in his church are hypocrites.
I have seen a church split over the color of paint in the ladies' bathroom.
I have seen a parishioner hand out pre-highlighted copies of Confronting Jezebel, complete with handwritten notes explaining that the pastor was possessed by a spirit of manipulation and control.
I have seen a pastor accused of insulting the entire choir because he didn't promote the Christmas cantata enough—a cantata in which both he and his wife sang.
I have seen a church dismiss its pastor after his wife died because, without her, they didn't feel they were getting their money's worth.
I have seen pastor's kids, exhausted by the microscopic scrutiny of Sundays, channel that pressure into fighting with their siblings and defying their parents, turning Sunday mornings into war zones.
I have seen a pastor and his family minister through a funeral—comforting grieving people, serving the meal, caring for everyone else—while quietly carrying deep grief of their own, feeling they had no room for their own tears.
I have seen a pastor climb into his car after church and simply deflate... folding over until his forehead rested on the steering wheel as he whispered, "I don't know if I can keep doing this."
But I have seen other things too.
I have been hugged by a woman who whispered, "It's okay. Kids have bad days. You're a great mom," after my seven-year-old daughter spent the entire Sunday morning impersonating the Tasmanian Devil.
I have seen a woman who never had children of her own love mine so deeply that they couldn't wait to get to church each week because they knew she would be there.
I have seen couples quietly recognize our family's financial needs and give with remarkable generosity.
I have seen the Holy Spirit give me exactly the right words for an impossibly difficult conversation.
I have seen believers carry one another to the feet of Jesus through faithful, persistent prayer.
I have seen a man enslaved by addiction for decades set free by the grace of God and the blood of Christ.
I have seen people extend astonishing grace when our weaknesses were on full display.
I have seen a man interrupt an evening service because, as the pastor preached the Word, he realized he had been wrong for decades. Without being prompted, he stood before the congregation, confessed his sin, and was met not with condemnation, but with tears, forgiveness, and restoration.
I have seen the face of Christ reflected through my husband as he faithfully proclaimed the Scriptures.
I have seen people healed.
I have seen broken marriages restored.
I have seen prodigals collapse at the foot of the cross.
And because of everything I have seen...
I can't wait to go to church on Sunday.