My husband and I have a very interesting decision making method. He tells me he wants to do something significant, I laugh at him, and years later God makes it happen. For example, when I first met Josh's parents almost 20 years ago he introduced me as their "future daughter-in-law" ~ and I laughed at him. Little did I know, right?
A few years ago we went to a friend's house for New Year's Eve. It was a low key evening of a potluck style dinner, board and video games, and conversation. No alcohol involved. So when Josh told me on the drive home that he felt called to pastor and plant a church, I knew he was making a sober statement ~ and I laughed at him. As we discussed things further, I told him the problem was not so much him being pastor as me being the "pastor's wife". I don't exactly fit the "pastor's wife" mold. Obviously, in order for Josh to be a pastor, we would have to get divorced. He definitely would need someone more qualified then myself to be his partner in ministry.
And here is a perfect example of why this is the case.
I have a hard time sharing. Especially my husband. It has been hard enough to learn to surrender my husband to the will of God, but it is incredibly difficult when it appears that others are taking advantage of his position.
Earlier this month, I went back to school. Part of the deal was that the division of house work would be reassessed and reassigned. Three weeks after school started, I had a fairly invasive surgery. Still in recovery mode, there is so much I cannot yet do for myself ~ like vacuum. We have 4 cats and a husky, thus, vacuuming needs to be done daily. Grocery shopping needs to be done with my teenage pack mule. Lifting heavy laundry baskets or my backpack is still a challenge. Much as it pains me to admit it, it has been the last 10ish days that I have really needed my husband. Unfortunately, other people seem to think they have needed him more than I.
Josh is in the unique position of both boss and pastor to a young person that we have taken on as something of a surrogate child. We knew his history of drug abuse and rehab, that he smokes and battles with alcohol. There is a definite pattern to when he would call off "sick", code for "hung over" or "alcohol poisoning". Very recently, he called in late, then called back a few minutes later in a state of hysterics because was so gone mentally that he wasn't even sure where he was as he was driving. He leaves tomorrow for out-of-state in-patient alcohol rehab.
This situation is further complicated by the fact that young person number one is dating another young person that we have known for a few years now who has her own issues. In my humble, untrained opinion, this is not a healthy union. She gets possessive and paranoid, he drinks, rages, screams and yells, she cries and gets hysterical. I suppose the make-up sex is worth it all.
Not only does Josh have to deal with the problem on a professional level working with young one #1, but he also has the pastoral responsibility to handle. The last few days have been a nightmare. Both of these young people have been picking at him, sucking the energy out of him, demanding his time and attention. For three days, my husband has been all but consumed by dealing with their drama.
While I have had to grocery shop with my teenager and sit at home achy from surgery without the help that I thought I would have so readily available.
Is it wrong or selfish of me to feel this way? I am a fiercely independent person by design, so just admitting that I even needed help was hard enough. But to need it and not have it because an outsider usurped it doesn't sit well with me. Am I warring with the will of God, or is my husband working with ill-defined boundaries?
Which brings me to another conflict within. He let himself be pulled away. I understand that circumstances were urgent and extreme, but he seemed to let the little things pull as well. We were in church Saturday evening where young one #2 was supposed to meet Josh and talk after the service. Josh gets a text that she is running late. Par for her course. Then he gets a text asking if she could just meet us after service and come over for dinner. And he asked ME. NO! Is it not enough that they have eaten up a big chunk of his day already? They were over the night before, so, no, I don't want her over again. I want to have dinner with my boyz, and I refuse to allow her to have this much control over my life. She can meet and chat at church as planned or not at all this evening. By the time she got to the church, service was under way. Josh received, and showed me, another text asking if he could meet her in the entry way to bring her to where we were sitting. NO! There was really no where for her to sit with us anyway, and she should be able to survive sitting alone at church for an hour. Her final text, that I was made aware of at least, was a plea for him to come get her. NO! I was tired of hearing his text alert and I would be damned if he deferred to her any more. We were supposed to be worshiping God, being fed by the Spirit, and he was letting her pull him away from even that. Where does he finally draw the line?
Josh did chat with her after service. Then young one #1 called young one #2 in a drunken rage and making accusations, Josh got dragged into the drama, and the rest of the evening was pretty much shot. The dinner we had in the crock-pot ended up very overdone because it was so late by the time we finally left the church.
I do not share my husband well. I do not have patience for people taking advantage of his position. And it is a damn good thing I was not the one dealing with all of this because there would have been a very different direction in the conversations. I am very much wired in the ways of "tough love" and "these are your only choices". You can either choose to follow the advise offered, or you can choose not to and shut up about it.
Josh once wrote a blog about how he is not a pastor as much of the religious world would define them. In a comment, someone asked if this makes him an "unpastor", and he wears the title effectively and with humble pride. But as certain as I am that I am absolutely no "pastor's wife", I'm not sure I would even be an equally yoked "unpastor's wife".
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Clash of the Testaments
For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated with tattoos. In middle school I was in love with a tattoo on the forearm of a female warrior character of a book my brother had lent me, and wished I had one just like it. By high school, I knew enough about tattoos to know that my middle school fantasy would be unlikely to come to fruition, but I had plenty of other tattoo ideas swirling around in my brain to make up for it.
Even now, tattoos amaze me. And in my line of work, I see plenty of them. If I can legally uncover the body part in the context of therapy, I have seen it tattooed. Forearm sleeves, upper-arm sleeves, full-back masterpieces, wrap-arounds on legs, tops of the feet, up the neck, behind the ear ~ if it is visible without being obscene, I've seen it. Some of them look like they may have once been featured on the "Ugliest Tattoos" website. Others I just don't get. Some are creepy but done well artistically, others are awesome ideas poorly executed. The most beautiful tattoo I have ever seen was on a patient. My brother, brother-in-law, sister-in-law, father-in-law and husband all have tattoos.
I was 32 when I finally broke down and got inked. Part of the delay was based on parental influence. My dad is not a fan, especially when the tattoo is on his daughter. But the bigger issue was that I was uncertain about with what to permanently adorn my body. When I reflect on what I might have gotten as a young person, I don't regret not getting them. They weren't bad ideas, and I don't think I would regret them now if I had gotten them then, but they no longer fit the person I have become. They were better ideas for book-cover doodling than permanent body art.
Someone once recommended an excellent strategy for deciding on a tattoo. He told me to take my time finding exactly what I thought I wanted. Then put it away for 6 months. Look at it again, and if it is still exactly what I want, put it away again. And in another 6 months, if it is still exactly what I want, get it done. I followed that advice. As of this writing I have 4 tattoos, all obtained within a 16-month time frame, and I plan on rewarding myself with a 5th if I finish college Algebra with an A.
All of my current tattoos are based in my faith, though one may need an explanation of each. The phoenix on my back represents the many times God has raised my life from the ashes I had made of it. Unfortunately, this is a repeating pattern. The scripture reference on my shoulder is Isaiah 33:12-16. At the base of my left thumb is the phrase "be still" written in Aramaic, inspired by the passage in Exodus where the Isrealites where grumbling at the Red Sea and Moses reminded them that the Lord would fight for them if only they would "be still". Just under my right elbow is a band of Greek writing that reads "I am his and he is mine", from the Song of Songs. But my very first tattoo is on my right wrist, and in Hebrew it reads Yeushua.
For those of you who don't know me, let's play a guessing game. Judging by my body art, what would you think is my belief? Three of my tattoos reference Old Testament scripture, but 2 of them are written in the languages of the New. And the one New Testament reference is written in the language of the Old. Most people look at the Hebrew (though most of them can't actually read it) and the Old Testament reference on my back and immediately assume I am Jewish. Unless that person is himself Jewish. Then they wonder why anyone would want to address the Savior of the Christian faith by His Jewish name.
Of them all, the wrist tattoo is my favorite. If for no other reason than the confusion it creates. It rocks as a conversation starter. Even the average person can usually recognize the writing as Hebrew, and when they can't read it they ask about it. I explain what it says and that it allows me to honor both of the important men in my life, since my husband's name is Joshua. Why did I choose Hebrew to honor Christ, is usually the next question. Christ was a Hebrew, was He not? I have chosen to honor Him by honoring His heritage, and mine as His follower. I have found this to fascinate Jewish people I have come across and really irk the uneducated. The Jews that I have talked with are amazed that there are Christians out there who openly admit to and embrace Christ's Jewish blood line. Apparently, it is more common for them to come across the Christians who only continue condemn them for murdering their Savior. As for the uneducated, they just don't get it, and ignorance breeds intolerance. I've gotten a few snide, attitudinal comments when explaining my tattoo to some who look like they may have been the ones featured on the aforementioned website.
In short, I am a Christian who has made the decision to honor all the heritage that is mine as Christ's follower by adorning my physical temple with the 3 original biblical languages and a pictorial representation of my interpretation of my salvation. And I'm pretty sure I didn't ask for anyone's opinion about it.
Now ask me what my next tat is gonna be.
Even now, tattoos amaze me. And in my line of work, I see plenty of them. If I can legally uncover the body part in the context of therapy, I have seen it tattooed. Forearm sleeves, upper-arm sleeves, full-back masterpieces, wrap-arounds on legs, tops of the feet, up the neck, behind the ear ~ if it is visible without being obscene, I've seen it. Some of them look like they may have once been featured on the "Ugliest Tattoos" website. Others I just don't get. Some are creepy but done well artistically, others are awesome ideas poorly executed. The most beautiful tattoo I have ever seen was on a patient. My brother, brother-in-law, sister-in-law, father-in-law and husband all have tattoos.
I was 32 when I finally broke down and got inked. Part of the delay was based on parental influence. My dad is not a fan, especially when the tattoo is on his daughter. But the bigger issue was that I was uncertain about with what to permanently adorn my body. When I reflect on what I might have gotten as a young person, I don't regret not getting them. They weren't bad ideas, and I don't think I would regret them now if I had gotten them then, but they no longer fit the person I have become. They were better ideas for book-cover doodling than permanent body art.
Someone once recommended an excellent strategy for deciding on a tattoo. He told me to take my time finding exactly what I thought I wanted. Then put it away for 6 months. Look at it again, and if it is still exactly what I want, put it away again. And in another 6 months, if it is still exactly what I want, get it done. I followed that advice. As of this writing I have 4 tattoos, all obtained within a 16-month time frame, and I plan on rewarding myself with a 5th if I finish college Algebra with an A.
All of my current tattoos are based in my faith, though one may need an explanation of each. The phoenix on my back represents the many times God has raised my life from the ashes I had made of it. Unfortunately, this is a repeating pattern. The scripture reference on my shoulder is Isaiah 33:12-16. At the base of my left thumb is the phrase "be still" written in Aramaic, inspired by the passage in Exodus where the Isrealites where grumbling at the Red Sea and Moses reminded them that the Lord would fight for them if only they would "be still". Just under my right elbow is a band of Greek writing that reads "I am his and he is mine", from the Song of Songs. But my very first tattoo is on my right wrist, and in Hebrew it reads Yeushua.
For those of you who don't know me, let's play a guessing game. Judging by my body art, what would you think is my belief? Three of my tattoos reference Old Testament scripture, but 2 of them are written in the languages of the New. And the one New Testament reference is written in the language of the Old. Most people look at the Hebrew (though most of them can't actually read it) and the Old Testament reference on my back and immediately assume I am Jewish. Unless that person is himself Jewish. Then they wonder why anyone would want to address the Savior of the Christian faith by His Jewish name.
Of them all, the wrist tattoo is my favorite. If for no other reason than the confusion it creates. It rocks as a conversation starter. Even the average person can usually recognize the writing as Hebrew, and when they can't read it they ask about it. I explain what it says and that it allows me to honor both of the important men in my life, since my husband's name is Joshua. Why did I choose Hebrew to honor Christ, is usually the next question. Christ was a Hebrew, was He not? I have chosen to honor Him by honoring His heritage, and mine as His follower. I have found this to fascinate Jewish people I have come across and really irk the uneducated. The Jews that I have talked with are amazed that there are Christians out there who openly admit to and embrace Christ's Jewish blood line. Apparently, it is more common for them to come across the Christians who only continue condemn them for murdering their Savior. As for the uneducated, they just don't get it, and ignorance breeds intolerance. I've gotten a few snide, attitudinal comments when explaining my tattoo to some who look like they may have been the ones featured on the aforementioned website.
In short, I am a Christian who has made the decision to honor all the heritage that is mine as Christ's follower by adorning my physical temple with the 3 original biblical languages and a pictorial representation of my interpretation of my salvation. And I'm pretty sure I didn't ask for anyone's opinion about it.
Now ask me what my next tat is gonna be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)