LISA: Al saw preaching school and the ministry opportunities that came with it as a new challenge, and he fully embraced it. He loved learning, and he had always been smart, so he did well in all his classes. Not long after he started school, churches began calling him and inviting him to preach for special occasions, retreats, or youth trips or to fill in when a preacher had to be away from his pulpit. Al enjoyed preaching; he quickly became good at it, and congregations liked him and responded well to his messages. From the looks of the situation, everything was falling into place for him. He had found his niche and was poised for success as a minister. Everyone was happy, except me.
I was definitely pleased with the regular financial support our family received because Al was in school. I also gained a new level of respect for him as I watched him discipline himself to get up and go to school on time each day instead of wandering over to Duck Commander on a loose, unstructured schedule. In a way, his going to school was a relief to me because by that time he had spent several years working for Duck Commander, but the business was barely hanging on. Several people, and the enemy himself, told me Al would never be a dependable provider and that he would always hang around with his parents trying to make the business work. I was happy to see him set off on a new course, and I did respect his commitment to school and ministry, but those were the only things I liked about that season. As Al continued in preaching school, got rave reviews from his preaching assignments, and grew busier with new ministry opportunities, I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the whole situation. All I could think was, I did not sign up for this.
I did not have the temperament or the wardrobe to be a minister’s spouse.
For starters, his preaching took him away from home on the weekends, and with two babies, I needed him there. In addition, I did not marry a preacher, and I certainly did not want him practicing his preaching on me! I was happy in our church, but I did not want to listen to sermons on other days of the week. I also did not want to feel I had to do or not do certain things, wear or not wear certain outfits (I admit I liked short skirts, tight tops, and other things that would not have been appropriate for a preacher’s wife, and I did not want to give them up), or hold my tongue when I wanted to say something.
My biggest issue, though, was that I did not want the intense pressure of being a preacher’s wife. Every preacher’s wife I had ever met had basically the same personality. They were all sweet, gentle, meek, humble, and fairly quiet. None of those adjectives described me. I knew I would never be able to keep my mouth shut if something I did not like were to happen in the church. I just did not have the temperament or the wardrobe to be a minister’s spouse. More than those things, though, I had no desire for that kind of leadership role or that kind of visibility in the church.
I now speak often about the fact that being in ministry is like living in a fishbowl. So many people are aware of what takes place in the family of a pastor or minister. This is often extremely difficult for the minister’s spouse and children. I did not have any personal experience in ministry when Al decided to go to preaching school. I had simply observed enough over the years to know I did not want to live that kind of life, nor did I want my children to have to endure it.
The more I thought about Al’s decision, the more conflict began to boil inside of me. I truly did respect Al for his diligence in school and commitment to his studies, but I also felt such a sense of loss. I had lost him to his studies in the evenings and to his preaching on the weekends—the only times I was off from my job and we could have been together as a couple or a family. Al was totally blind to the way I felt. He was so consumed with school and all that went with it that he did not notice my discontent. I was not at all pleased with the direction our lives seemed to be going in. More than anything else, I missed Al and felt alone. I did not know how to have a healthy, honest conversation with Al about all of this; I just knew I was unhappy. And, after living with growing resentment for about a year, I did not realize I had made our marriage and myself vulnerable to an attack from the enemy.