Skeletons

What's in YOUR closet? I'm not talking about shoes, clothes, ugly ties or dust bunnies. I'm not even referring to a real, physical closet. I'm talking about that proverbial one, the one that everyone has. The one that is sometimes home to skeletons.



It's true, I do have a bit of Halloween on my brain. No matter what your views happen to be on this contentious "holiday," I figure the week of October 31 is an appropriate time to mention skeletons.

And just like those proverbial closets, I am also talking about proverbial skeletons. Everyone who has a physical one (I daresay that covers all of my readers,) has at least one proverbial one in the closet. Some of us have more than one. (Some of us have had to upgrade from closets to self-storage units to house all of the skeletons.)

There are a handful of early references in literature to skeletons hidden in various parts of homes (cupboards and inside walls in addition to closets) going back as far as the beginning of the 1800's. However, nobody can definitively say where the phrase "skeletons in the closet" originated.

It's clear, though that the idiom had been widely accepted in pop culture and understood to refer to the keeping of some sort of dark, hideous secret. After all, no one would ever put a skeleton on display in, say, the living room. Doing so would lead to many uncomfortable questions and give rise to much suspicion. It would surely lead visitors to question how such a thing would have even come into one's possession in the first place. While I suppose one can order just about anything off the Internet these days, I think it would be more likely that the possessing of a skeleton would almost always have more dubious origins.

I often think that we Christians are the most skilled of all people at keeping our skeletons hidden away. There may be numerous reasons for this, but I think the most obvious one is that we fear what our fellow Christians would think if they could see our skeletons.

Whether our fear of being judged is based on experience or nothing more than lies planted in our brains by the Father of Lies himself, the fear is very real. Unfortunately, when we all keep our skeletons hidden away, we collectively create a false reality that is not necessarily conducive to true Christian community. The more perfect and put-together everyone else seems, the more reluctant we are to share our deepest struggles with one another. The less we share our deep struggles with one another, the harder we work to keep up a false front of perfection. Eventually, this vicious circle can lead to spiritual bondage to those "skeletons."

Whenever I think about this concept of skeletons, I think of King David. If anyone had a reason to feel like hiding his skeletons it was him. Once a mere country shepherd boy, he was plucked out of virtual obscurity and was nurtured and prepared to become one of the greatest kings of all time. He was respected as a leader and feared as a warrior. He had felled a Philistine giant and gotten closer than anyone had ever gotten to two hundred other Philistine warriors and had 200 "trophies" to prove it (I Samuel 18:27), enough to impress the King whom he would later succeed and whose daughter he proved himself worthy to marry.

I often wonder about David's skeletons.... what if his subjects learned of David's humble past and his former occupation? He hadn't even been the oldest in his family. In fact, he was the youngest. What would happen when David's army discovered that their mighty leader had perpetrated a cowardly act and sent one of his loyal soldiers to his death in order to cover up the fact that he'd stolen that soldier's wife? Yet despite his shortcomings (some that would eventually become extremely public), God managed to use David anyway (even after at least one skeleton literally came tumbling out of the closet by way of a scandalous pregnancy.)

The Bible is full of colorful characters with "skeletons" aplenty. Like the apostle Paul, the great missionary to the Gentiles whose integrity lead to his release from an unjust imprisonment and the salvation of a jailer, but whose past was colored by the commission of multiple murders. Like Jesus' disciple Peter, who traveled the country preaching the resurrected Christ to his fellow Jews. After all, he had once, at one of his low points, publicly denied the same Lord about whom he now preached not once, not twice, but three times. And like even Jesus himself, whose own mother had borne him out of wedlock, and whose family origins were of the humblest blue collar despite his claim of royalty.

These wonderful characters remind me over and over again that skeletons need not hold me back. If God can use an adulterer, a murderer and a lying traitor, he can probably use me too, even in spite of, or maybe even BECAUSE of, my skeletons.

I must remind myself constantly that however "put together" everyone else looks compared to me, I know that they all have proverbial skeletons too. Praise God that He sees our skeletons that we sometimes try so adeptly to keep hidden away. Not only does He see them, he sometimes asks us to open the closet door and let others see what's inside too. He has done so for me, and while it hasn't been without some trepidation and pain (I have found myself at times fighting against myself to wrench that door open) it has never been without reward.

If I Were a Rich Girl (or For the Love of Money...)

I often tell people that I am a Saks Fifth Avenue girl who was born into a Wal-Mart family. I'm not really sure how that happened exactly. I can only assume that I must have been switched at birth and some other little girl got to live the life of luxury that I had such a longing for.

I can be in the middle of a crowd.... at the mall, the airport, church, wherever.... and spot the two feet out of 1000 that are adorned with Prada shoes. Why would God give me such a gift, only to saddle me with an income that renders me unqualified to even approach a store that sells Prada shoes?

This fascination with everything designer began very early on. I was a mere ten year old girl when Brooke Shields did her first Calvin Klein jeans commercial. Because Brooke Shields said so, I, like so many other young girls in 1980, simply HAD to have Calvin Klein jeans.

That resolution faded quickly with the sound of my Mother's laughter. "Sure. I just won't buy groceries for the next month. You don't mind if we don't eat for awhile, right?" (Actually, it may not have happened exactly like that. Let's just say that it became very clear, very quickly, that I would NOT get Calvin Klein jeans.)

At the time, my Dad was pursuing a Bible college degree, after deciding in his early 30's to enter full time ministry. And so he packed up my Mom, me and my two little sisters and moved us from our hometown of Elkhart, Indiana to Chicago, Illinois. It was here he attended Moody Bible Institute while working two and sometimes even three jobs on the side in order to make ends meet.

My Mom worked part time too, and took care of us girls. She basically became a single mother for four years, since Dad was home so little during that time.

Even so, they somehow managed to conceive a fourth child during those years. When my youngest sister was born, the budget was stretched almost to the breaking point.

Fortunately we were part of a generous church. As I recall, we never went without. We got hand-me down clothes from older girls at the church, meals, and even the odd box or bag of free groceries. It wasn't unusual for anonymous money to come our way, usually during those times when the month outlasted the paychecks and we were crying out to God in sheer desperation. We even lived in our church's parsonage rent free for a short period of time as my Dad finished up his education and got ready for full-time ministry.

I'd always been something of clothes-horse. So when I began to develop an awareness of designer labels at age ten, needless to say, I was less than appreciative of the great lengths my parents went to just to keep me and my sisters from going naked. Why couldn't I have Calvin Klein jeans like some of my other friends?

Our economic situation didn't improve much after Dad entered full-time ministry. We were missionaries, and somehow managed to survive on a pittance, thanks largely to the generosity of our supporters and some of the churches in the area where my parents ministered. By high school graduation I still hadn't gotten those Calvin Kleins.

Any fleeting hope of raising my financial profile through marriage vanished when, in my first year of college, the guy I'd been dating since my last year of high school announced that he had felt the call of God on his life to pursue full-time Christian ministry. Love conquers all, right? We'd get married and live happily ever after, serving the Lord side by side. He'd work and I'd stay home with the kids we'd eventually have and life would be full of spiritual and emotional bliss.

As it turned out, those years at home with the babies were not quite as blissful as I'd anticipated. Though the churches my husband worked for while our kids were little (three in total) were generous churches, much as my childhood church had been, a pastor's salary is a pastor's salary, and a single-income household with three small kids left no place in the budget for Prada or Calvin Klein (or Baby Gap & OshKosh b'Gosh for that matter.) I had married into a Wal-Mart budget.

I would, and I must confess, still do find myself looking on with envy every time I see a Louis Vuitton handbag on someone else's arm or a funky pair of Versace glasses gracing another woman's face. Though I've developed a knack for picking out cheap knock-offs that sometimes get mistaken for the real deal, I still long to wear authentic Prada.

It's taken me a lifetime to come to terms with the idea that I will never be a rich girl. While I wouldn't trade my place in life for anything, I find myself constantly being tempted to break the Tenth Commandment. Sometimes, in the very lowest of moments, I even find myself questioning why someone such as myself, who has literally grown up in professional ministry, can't catch one small windfall of cash somewhere with which to buy a little Calvin Klein? Don't I deserve that much?

No, I don't. In reality, God owes me nothing. In fact, He gave me everything. I've been reminded of this anew the last few weeks, as our current sermon series at church has been on the topic of stewardship. It's been a powerful reminder to me that everything I have belongs to God. He measures out to each man and woman exactly what He will, and expects us to be good stewards of it, whether it's Time, Talent or Treasure (The Three T's.... thanks Pastor Jim.)

I think I have a decent handle on the "time" and "talent" thing. It's the "treasure" I still struggle with. Yes, even clergy wives have trouble giving sometimes. Sometimes I'd rather spend my money on those cute shoes than tithe. If only we made more money, then it would be easier to give, or so I sometimes like to think.

In reality, I know this to be a lie. Studies have shown clearly that when people start to make more, they simply start to spend more, and find that their attitudes towards money are the same no matter what income bracket they manage to achieve. The real mark of a steward is what's in the heart, not what's in the bank account.

I have yet to wear Prada, or Calvin Klein jeans, and I suspect that the Lord may not have bestowed upon me the state of "rich girl" because He knows I'd be consumed by my own greed. So I've learned to adjust to perpetually living in a Wal-Mart family, and practice daily being grateful for the things that are really important in life, including the amazing opportunity to serve Him alongside my husband, even without designer jeans.

Albinos in Tanzania Hunted for Body Parts

I watched a recent episode of the television documentary 20/20 which chronicled the condition known as albinism. This condition, which affects both human and animal populations, makes it impossible for the body to produce any color pigmentation. A human or animal with albinism looks normal in every respect, except they are completely white: this includes hair, skin and eyes.

The episode followed a number of people with albinism in the United States, documenting their lives and how the condition affects their day-to-day living. Humans born with albinism are almost always legally blind, and are extremely sensitive to sunlight due to the body's inability to fight off the effects of ultra-violet light. Skin cancer is a serious issue with albinos.

Sometimes, though, the emotional issues are even heavier than the physical ones. Albinos don't fit into the "normal" minority categories. Albino children are often teased by classmates. One teenage girl interviewed by 20/20 was teased and bullied so mercilessly that she had to leave school and study at home due to the emotional toll.

However, some of these issues seem to pale in comparison to the plight of albinos in the African country of Tanzania. It has the highest concentration of albinos of any other population in the world. Albinism occurs once in every 20,000 births worldwide. In Tanzania, however, the rate of albinism is an astounding one in four thousand, five times the world's albinism rate.

Superstition in Tanzania holds that albinos posses a type of luck or "magical" quality. Because of this, practicing witch doctors are fueling a market for albino body parts. They use these human body parts, mainly legs, arms and hair, in potions. These potions are sold to believers who hope to attain wealth through them.

The lure of wealth in a country that has a gross domestic product of less than $1500 per capita is enough to keep these potions in demand. Unfortunately, the lure of money also makes it all too easy for witch doctors to find people willing to hunt, mutilate and murder albinos in Tanzania. In some cases, even parents of children with albinism are willing to exchange the lives of their children for money, usually about $2000 US.

These depraved hunters usually burst into a home in the middle of the night, heavily armed, and simply snatch the albino. They use brute force and the threat of violence to subdue family members. In most cases, they simply take the albino out into the yard to perform their dastardly deed, and then leave the person in a pool of blood to die as frightened and distraught family members look on helplessly.

Because good medical care isn't available in most of the remote villages, albinos who are attacked almost always die. A few, however, survive, and face a lifetime of disability in a country where there are no resources to support these severely disabled individuals.

Fortunately, a Canadian charity called Under the Same Sun is working tirelessly to focus attention on the plight of albinos in Tanzania. The non-profit organization was founded in 2008 by Peter Ash, a Christian businessman who himself was born with albinism. Ash, along with his brother Paul, donate money and raise global awareness of the problems that albinos worldwide are faced with, particularly in third world countries like Tanzania.

Thanks to the Ash brothers' charity, a school has been built in Africa to offer refuge to oppressed albinos. The school offers shelter, food, education and safety to albino children who otherwise would be hunted, or perhaps even fall victim to the conditions that many other African children face, like starvation, disease and abject poverty.

The school accepts many children besides albinos, and the building is bursting at the seams on any given day. Classrooms are wall-to-wall children, and kids often work two or three to a desk. The rest simply find a tiny spot on the floor. Dormitories are crowded, with two or three children sleeping in one bed or hammock.
While these conditions might seem deplorable to North Americans, the children and their families are unspeakably grateful for the opportunity for an education, daily meals, and above all, safety.

Under the Same Sun's mission is based on the belief that every person, albinos included, are made in the image of God. The Ash brothers hope to dramatically increase the quality of life for albinos in Tanzania by providing them with opportunities for education and quality free or affordable/attainable health care.

This story touched me like few others have. As a fan of television documentaries, I often hear stories about charities involved in various projects around the world. I am almost always moved by their stories, but none so much as this one.

It made me think about what my own response should be. In a time of economic crisis, almost every one has been affected in some way. Financial resources are tight, and not everyone can afford to give money. Couple that with the vast number of charities doing worthwhile work around the world, and the need seems overwhelming.

I think it's God's will that we, as Christians, give freely and gladly of the resources that He has given us. While He has not blessed all of us with extra finances, we all have the ability to pray. I very frequently forget that prayer is more powerful than the dollar, and admit that I often neglect to do my part by praying for those around the world who are oppressed and suffering. Even if I can't give my money, I can offer my prayers, specifically for protection for albinos in Tanzania, and that God would raise up those whom he has blessed with financial resources to fill those gaps that others cannot.

I am also blessed with the ability to write, and so I have also chosen to do that, in the hope that I might be able to bring just a little bit more attention to the plight of albinos in Tanzania. For that gift, and the ability to pray, I am grateful to God.

Learn more about Peter Ash's work at the Under the Same Sun website.

Watch Peter Ash's YouTube "Voice of America" interview.

Mental Health and the Church: What Would Jesus Do?

I was talking with an acquaintance from church recently. He's a bit of a health nut: he exercises almost as religiously as he reads his Bible, carefully watches what he eats, and even drinks dreadful veggie-based smoothies every day in an effort to stave off illness and prolong his earthly life.

We chatted a bit about ailments that seem to be so prevalent today, like cancer. He hoped that his strict regimen would help him avoid some of these things. He even mentioned mental illness, remarking that it seemed that depression, anxiety, and other mental disorders were almost pandemic.

His remarks made me start thinking about mental illness. Personally, I wonder if mental illnesses such as depression are really that much more prevalent now than they were 100 years ago. I'm certainly not a medical professional by any stretch of the imagination. But I would conjecture that perhaps mental illness is NOT more common in 2009, but rather, much more talked about.

It also got me thinking about my own experience with mental illness. I was diagnosed with clinical depression in 2002, shortly after the birth of my third child. It turned out that what I had thought was simple post-partum depression had much deeper roots.

As my doctor and I explored this new revelation in my life, I began to realize that I'd actually suffered from clinical depression most of my life. I also came to understand why it took me twenty years to identify the problem in my own life.
If you're like most people, you probably think of clinical depression the way I once did: it means that the victim lies around in bed all day, cries for hours on end, and generally has trouble going about daily living.

I, on the other hand, was really nothing like this. While I have learned over the years that I require more nightly sleep than the average person (8 1/2 to nine hours minimum), I've never suffered from lack of motivation to get out of bed in the morning. Quite the opposite in fact: I have always been quick to jump out of bed and pack my day from start to finish with non-stop activity.

This, I came to learn, was my coping method. But instead of making me feel better, it produced such severe anxiety that I began to be unable to sleep at night, even after my new baby finally began sleeping through the night himself. I would lie awake feeling nervous about whether or not I would be able to keep up with my hectic pace. I would suffer frequent panic attacks. I would yell at my kids and make unreasonable demands of my husband, blaming everyone around me for making me feel so lousy.

It was a simple ten question quiz in a parenting magazine that finally made me realize that I was suffering from clinical depression, which manifested itself in my life as severe anxiety. I was shocked and relieved at the same time. There was hope! There really was more to life than constant panic attacks and dissatisfaction with my circumstances! Medication and therapy has done an amazing job of getting my depression/anxiety under control.

Statistics suggest that some ten percent of North Americans are currently receiving some type of treatment (medication, therapy or a combination of both) for clinical depression. They also estimate that 10-25% of all women and 5-12% of all men will experience a bout of clinical depression at some point in their lives.

Think about those statistics in relation to your church. There are roughly 600 people in my own church. That means there are probably about 59 other people sitting in church with me every Sunday morning who are dealing with the same thing that I am. 59 people! This is more than a mere handful. And yet, I can think of less than five people who have ever admitted aloud to me that they do indeed suffer from clinical depression.

So why is it that mental health issues are still so hard to talk about in the church? I consider myself fortunate to live during a period in history where mental illness doesn't quite have the same negative social stigma attached. Had I lived one hundred years ago, I would most likely have been labelled as "delicate" or perhaps as being "not right." I most certainly would not have had access to the same kind of treatment that has helped me so greatly today.

And yet, even as I write this, I realize I have now "put myself out there." While I've never been one to shy away from talking about my experience with mental illness, I haven't been quick to take out a billboard ad either. What will my church think? Horror of horrors.... pastor's wives can be clinically depressed????

I guess my hope is that by opening up about my own experiences, I might inspire others in the church to realize that it's okay to talk about mental illness. Not only is it okay to talk about it, it's okay to BE mentally ill. Mental illness is as real a medical problem as the flu or a broken leg. And like broken legs, mental illness can be treated. What it SHOULD NOT be is hidden or ignored. You'd never walk around on a broken leg. It would be painful, foolish, and would lead to much more serious problems in the long run. No one in his or her right mind would ever consider simply ignoring or "shaking off" a broken leg. And yet, this happens time and time again with people who suffer mental illness.

Admittedly, there isn't a lot said in the Bible about mental illness, or what the church's response to it should be. However, in my own studies I have become convinced of a couple of things. First, I've come to believe that David, he of kingly heritage, sheep and harp-playing, was clinically depressed, perhaps even bi-polar. If you don't believe it, consider some of his writings:

"I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief. My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning, my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak. Because of all my enemies I am the utter contempt of my neighbors, I am a dread to my friends, those who see me on the street flee from me." (Psalm 31: 9-11)

I have thought and felt similar things during some of my own dark moments. I identify very closely with David in many regards, and have come to take great comfort in the Psalms, knowing that I am not the only person in history to have felt such overwhelming heaviness, and also knowing that I, like David, understand that on the flip side of the coin there is hope:

"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them, He delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit. A righteous man may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all." (Psalm 34: 17-19)

The other thing that I have become convinced of is that the church needs to respond to mental illness with compassion. Again, there's not a lot about mental illness in the Bible. However, there is a great deal in the Bible about responding compassionately to people in other awkward and socially-stigmatized life situations. Take Jesus' encounter with the "sinful" woman, whom we assume to have been a prostitute or of similar ilk, who wished to express her deep love for Jesus. Those around him were disgusted when she began weeping uncontrollably at his feet, washing them with her tears and drying them with her unbound hair.

Jesus fellow dinner guests were appalled, questioning his very divinity ("If this man were a prophet, he would know who was touching him and what kind of woman she is." Luke 7:39) They chided her wastefulness when she anointed Jesus' feet with expensive perfume: "It could have been sold for more than a year's wages and the money given to the poor." (Mark 14:5)

But Jesus rebuked them, responding with compassion to this woman who understood more than anyone else at that table that she had been rescued from so much.

In other instances we see Jesus extending compassion to social outcasts like lepers, offering healing and forgiveness of sin and even skin to skin contact, something that was so socially repulsive that it was actually forbidden. We see him reacting in love to those who were possessed with evil spirits, drawing physically and emotionally near to them when no one else would.

I can't help but believe that this is what Jesus wants us to do with those who suffer mental illness. Instead of ignoring it, pretending it doesn't exist, or relegating those who suffer it to the very fringes of our congregations (much as the demoniac who was forced to live in a graveyard), I believe Jesus calls us to embrace those who might otherwise be deigned social outcasts, to acknowledge their sufferings, and to show love and compassion.

Mental illnesses like clinical depression are difficult to understand for those who haven't suffered them. I think it's okay not to understand. (I don't understand what it's like to have a broken leg, having never broken a bone in my lifetime.) But the church is still responsible to reach out in love to the mentally ill, like I think Jesus would do, with love and compassion and a great deal of grace.

Facebook: The New Prayer Chain

Remember the church prayer chain? Many churches around North America still have active prayer chain ministries. For those who think a prayer chain is a piece of jewelry, let me enlighten you.

A prayer chain consists of a group of volunteers who agree to pray for prayer requests as they are submitted by church members. Prayer requests are directed to the person at the top of the "chain" (usually the leader of the prayer chain ministry.) He or she then delivers that prayer request to a small group of individual volunteers (in the "olden days" this occurred by telephone.) Each of those individuals then delivers that same request to a group of individual volunteers underneath him/her, and so on until everyone in the prayer chain ministry has received the request. It's a fast way to get multiple people (dozens or even hundreds) interceding in prayer on behalf of one person. (Think "Pyramid Scheme," except in this version you get prayed for instead of ripped off.)

My church has a very active prayer ministry, though it's a little less formal than an organized "prayer chain," and probably a lot faster than the old-fashioned telephone variety. Prayer requests can be submitted to a staff, board or prayer team member. These three groups of people work closely together to ensure that each of the other groups knows that a prayer request has been made, and most of the communication is done by email, which tends to be faster, less invasive, and more reliable than the phone prayer chain.

My husband and I recently experienced a whole new twist on the good old-fashioned prayer chain. A couple of weeks ago my middle child came down with what appeared to be a pesky but tenacious virus. It turned out to be parvo-virus, a garden variety flu-type bug that strikes just about everyone on the planet during childhood.

Parvo-virus is normally little more than a nuisance. What differentiates it from other flu-like viruses is that it attacks the bone marrow and temporarily halts the production of red blood cells.

Human beings normally make a surplus of red blood cells for just such times as these. However, my two sons happen to have hereditary spherocytosis, an inherited blood disorder which inhibits the proper production of red blood cells. The cells that are produced are the wrong shape (spherical instead of round) and subject to attack by the spleen, which thinks they are foreign substances and therefore wipes out many of them. So parvo-virus can be deadly for my two boys.
My son got very ill very quickly, and ended up needing an emergency blood transfusion and hospital stay.

As I threw together an overnight bag so that I could accompany my son to the hospital, I quickly posted a request for prayer on Facebook. To my surprise, hundreds of people knew within hours of my son's admittance to the hospital and had already prayed for Joshua's recovery. And not just locals either.... people from all over Canada and the United States were praying for my son before he'd even drained the first of two bags of blood that he needed.

I couldn't help but marvel at this modern twist on the prayer chain. This is not intended to be an endorsement for Facebook (though I admit that I am slightly addicted to it.) I am also aware that Facebook has been misused, abused and employed as a tool to promote all sorts of insidious ideas and causes and has even served to destroy the careers and reputations of people (even Christians.) But Facebook, when used wisely, can also be a tremendous tool for the church in general, and for individual Christians, particularly in times of need as I so recently came to discover.

As it turned out, Joshua graciously shared his virus with his little brother Josiah (now why can't I get them to share toys?) and a week later we found ourselves in a re-run except with a different child. Once again we turned to Facebook for prayer, and were deeply rewarded to find so many friends praying for us and encouraging us, even people that we haven't seen in years. I am exceedingly grateful for this contemporary twist on the prayer chain.

Building Bridges

For the last two years or so, my children and I have watched with fascination as a massive suspension bridge has been built just up river from where we live. Its impressive spans and vaulting cables can be seen towering above centuries-old groves of trees that line either side of the river over which it crosses, linking two major communities together that were once joined only by a quaint but slow and inconvenient ferry system.

Every time we would drive by this work in progress, we would observe the latest additions to the structure and comment on how the bridge was taking shape. Sometimes it seemed as though nothing visible was being accomplished for days at a time, even though dozens and dozens of workers were always present. Other times it was as though whole sections of bridge would appear seemingly overnight, as if bridge fairies had visited in the wee hours of the morning.

We also marveled at the various aspects of bridge building that were surprising to us. One day we drove by and noticed piles and piles of giant bricks with nubs on the sides. This excited my boys greatly: "They look just like giant Legos, Mom!" Turns out, they were made from styrofoam. Who knew bridges can be built with styrofoam?

The last several months have been the most exciting to watch, as more and more spans were added from each end, until they finally met near the middle and the last piece was dropped in. After years of building, the bridge is complete and will open to the public in less than a month.

Every time I drive by that bridge, I can't help but think of all that goes into building bridges. Over two years of work, and that doesn't even include the years and years of planning that go into such an effort. It's a remarkable thing to begin with an idea, and years later finally see all those plans and all of the work culminate into a suspension bridge that will stand for decades (maybe even centuries) and see the passage of billions and billions of vehicles over its length.

In fact, it reminds me an awful lot of ministry in general, and church ministry in particular. After all, isn't this what we're all doing in all of our churches all over the world? Ministry is all about building bridges. Whether professional or lay ministers, we work at building bridges between parents and children, children and adults, teens and adults, teens and their peers, old and young, husbands and wives, couples, ethnic groups, Christians and non-Christians, mature Christians and new, "baby" Christians.... and the list goes on and on.

Building bridges in our churches doesn't happen overnight either. Much as our Golden Ears bridge has been years in the making, it takes time to build bridges in our churches. It's easy as leaders (professional or otherwise) to get discouraged because, let's face it: sometimes it seems that little or no progress is being made. We often bump up against hurdles that seem to set progress back. It's easy to feel like "throwing in the towel" and walking away from a half-built bridge in frustration.

Watching this bridge go from a concept to a grand suspension bridge that will link two communities together and vastly change the way we travel, recreate and do business has been a powerful visual object lesson and reminder to me that bridges are not built overnight. Instead, when they are discussed, planned, designed with purpose, and built with proper care and due attention (including working through the inevitable glitches) they become a thing of awe and a beacon for and symbol of change, progress and brand new relationships.

"[I am confident] that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day that Jesus Christ returns." Philippians 1:6

Three Easy Ways that the Church Can Help Strengthen the Pastor's Marriage

Pastor Kevin Martineau of Port Hardy Baptist Church (my husband and I go back to Bible college days with him and his wife) recently returned from the Emotionally Healthy Spirituality Conference in New York City. He shares some of his thoughts about his and his wife's experiences there in his blog, Shooting the Breeze. I found his thoughts not only intriguing, but also realized that many of his experiences trying to balance marriage with ministry were eerily similar to mine and my husband's own experiences.

Ministry can be very hard on a marriage, which doesn't seem logical considering Christian ministry and Christian marriage both supposedly center around the same thing (Jesus Christ.) And yet my husband and I can attest to this fact, having been in both marriage and ministry for almost 17 years now.

Shepherding a flock (whether big or small or somewhere in between) can take a toll on the Pastor and his wife. It can be exhausting both physically and emotionally to spend ten or twelve hours a day (let's face it... I don't know many pastors who work eight hour days. Do you?) ministering to the needs of others, and then somehow find the emotional energy to come home and connect with your spouse. Throw in kids on top of that, and you have the perfect recipe for marriage burnout.

If it's true, as Pastor Kevin suggests, that a church is only as healthy as the marriage(s) of its pastor(s), I think it stands to reason that the church is in a prime position to benefit a great deal from helping to nurture those marriages. So what, exactly, can the church do to help ensure that its pastor's marriage thrives?

Seventeen years in ministry has by no means made us marriage experts (and believe me, we've had our share of marital struggles,) but it has given us some very good insight into how a church can encourage its pastor(s) to have good marriage(s.) Here are just a few of those insights:

1) Don't phone the pastor on his day off. Nothing short of death or near-death is so critical that it can't wait until tomorrow. Most pastors take only one full day off per week. This has been the case for us ever since my husband entered full-time ministry, and has been the case for every single other pastor we have ever worked with. Even pastors who are fortunate enough to get two days off in a week need to really be able to escape the workplace. Many pastors devote those days off to spending time with their spouses, since it's often the only one they have together in a week. Parishioners should recognize this and save their business for the next workday so that the pastor can feel as though he can put work aside and focus fully on his spouse.

2) Respect his desire to maintain balance. In many churches the pastor is expected to be a part of most or even all of the goings-on at the church. There's a good chance he's already out several nights per week on church affairs. Don't add another night onto his plate if it means he'll be sacrificing time with his wife and family. Running at a breakneck pace without any chance to connect during the week can leave a pastor exhausted and his wife frustrated, neither of which is conducive to marital bliss.

3) Be intentional about seeing that your pastor and spouse get away together. Pastors don't make a lot of money. (Shocking, isn't it?) Sometimes it's difficult for the pastor and his wife to budget for a dinner out, let alone a weekend away together. Trust me when I tell you that the best gifts my husband and I have been given by our congregations over the years are those that came in the form of dinner gift certificates and paid-for weekend getaways. (When our kids were little these often came with offers of free babysitting.) Just a couple of these kinds of gifts each year can make a gigantic difference in the relationship of the pastor and his wife. (Try sending them to a marriage enrichment conference for double the bang for your buck.)

These really are easy and relatively painless ways to show your pastor and his wife that you care about their marriage. The dividends that the church will receive in return far outweigh any cost (financial or otherwise) incurred.

Read Pastor Kevin's thoughts on maintainting an emotionally healthy marriage: "As Goes the Pastor's Marriage, So Goes the Church."