It happened once again. I was volunteering in the children’s ministry, standing with my wife as parents and children filed out. A dad came up to us with his son to chat. The little boy looked at me and said, “Thank you, Pastor.”

Confused, I looked at the dad, who shrugged and said, “He thinks you are the pastor.” Before I could correct the situation, they moved on.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that even church leaders get confused—or forget that a pastor’s husband exists. At one of our national conventions, I had to laugh when I saw an invitation to a pastor’s wives’ tea party. I considered going, but I simply didn’t know what to wear.

The Pastor’s Husband Double-Take

The double-takes have been common. There’s the visiting elderly gentleman who wants to speak to the man in charge. When he finds out it isn’t me, his disappointment is palpable.

Perhaps that’s why we’re rarely together on a Sunday morning. She has her sacred duties, and I have important ones—like fielding complaints when one group says it’s too hot and another wants the temperature raised five degrees in the sanctuary.

Or maybe that’s why I have the sacred duty of manning the leaf blower before service, ensuring no rogue leaf or unbecoming piece of mulch crosses anyone’s path. Broad is the path that leads to an unbecoming entryway.

Children’s ministry and facility duties are among the areas where I’ve found my place. Being behind the scenes suits me far better than stealing the limelight for even a minute.

Assumptions

Despite years of evidence to the contrary, the assumption persists: men are in charge.

We prefer the stories of Moses over Deborah. We grow uneasy when Paul names Priscilla before Aquila. We like to imagine Mordecai was really the one in charge instead of Esther.

Some of that comes more from the business world than the Bible. We still find it disorienting when a woman is the CEO—and heaven forbid she makes an unpopular executive decision.

Others cite 1 Timothy 2:8–15 as a reason to object to women in ministry, conveniently forgetting the line, “Women shall be saved through childbearing.” It’s a complicated passage that must be held alongside the rest of Scripture—like 1 Corinthians 11:5, Galatians 3:28, and Acts 18:26.

Humor as a Survival Skill

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve relied on humor as a survival skill for quite some time. Back when newspapers were still a thing, I gravitated to the comics over the headlines.

Whenever tension rises, a well-placed one-liner can defuse a situation. And we need that in a world where the algorithm seems intent on making everyone angry and afraid.

A pastor’s husband especially needs humor—because people can get offended over the silliest things.

A parent may get upset with your wife because she had to tell them their little angel was, in fact, a holy terror. You may be tempted to offer the number for the nearest dog obedience school.

Or a congregant may be offended because there’s no organ on stage, and you may feel tempted to offer your gallbladder for the next service.

Granted, it’s usually best to keep those comments to yourself, jot them down, and use them later in a blog. It’s very therapeutic.

I try to keep my comments to myself—but sometimes my face gives me away. Someone makes an innocent remark, and my brain takes a humorous detour. While I keep my lips sealed, my expression tells the whole story. Every now and then, I even let out a poorly timed snort.

For instance, your wife may step on stage after the children’s choir sings, intending to say, “Weren’t they just awesome?” But what comes out is, “Weren’t they just awful?”

And suddenly you’re left wondering: Did she really say that—or is that just my imagination? That’s when it’s especially hard to keep the snort in check.

Calling Isn’t a Competition

I’ve learned that my wife’s calling into ministry isn’t a competition between us.

All Christ followers are called in one way or another. We are all gifted. We are all unique. And we are all vital to the body of Christ.

I used to make it all about me. (Don’t worry—tomorrow I’ll probably be tempted to do that again.) But I’ve found this equation to be true:

comparing + competing = crabby

There will always be someone more gifted. There will always be opportunities to compete—if you let them. But my wife is uniquely gifted. There is no one like her. And there is no one like me.

The body of Christ needs each of us to use the gifts God has given us—not strive for ones that aren’t ours.

A Word to Other Pastors’ Husbands

To those of you walking this road—the joys and challenges of supporting your wife in ministry—I say: embrace it.

There will be moments that frustrate you. There will be other moments when you’ll need to stifle a guffaw.

Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry. I’ll admit, there have been times I didn’t get that right. When someone you love is treated un-Christlike, it’s natural to feel protective. But resist the urge to respond in kind.

I believe that if your wife is called into ministry, God will give you, the husband, gifts to complement and support that calling.

Some days will be hard. Some will be perplexing. But stay the course—because it will also be deeply rewarding.