The Pastor’s Spouse Bill Tune bctune@gmail.com My wife is a preacher. This is still a foreign concept to some people, and many of them think the only thing stranger than a woman preacher is a man who would marry one. In my defense, I did not marry a preacher. I married a PK who later became a preacher. In fact, one of the things we had in common, besides our time together in the Longhorn Band, was the fact that we were both PK’s (preacher’s kids). Her Dad was a Baptist minister and mine, a Methodist. Beverly’s path to ordained ministry had many ironic twists and turns. For starters, she let it be known early in our relationship that she did not want me to end up in the ministry as she did not want the life of a “preacher’s wife.” Fortunately, that was never an issue for me. I sincerely believe God calls a select few individuals to preach the word, and I’ve never been so inclined. Beverly, on the other hand…. I won’t go into too much detail here because this paper is about me, not her. However, since her life journey is so closely intertwined with mine, some explanation is needed. Beverly spent many years searching for “something.” She was an outstanding educator for many years, sold Mary Kay Cosmetics for a couple of years, all the while attending a variety of Bible studies, but something was always missing. Then she finally got her answer (she thought) some time in the late 80’s when she heard God’s call to the ministry – for ME! (Guilty conscience?) I could now do so with her blessing. One problem – I had no desire and, more importantly, no calling to pursue a career in the ministry. I told her then that if anyone in our family should be a preacher, it was she, not me. (I had no idea how prophetic those words were.) Finally, in 1995, she attended a spiritual retreat where she got to see several women pastors at work, and this is where God slapped her on the side of the head and said, “THIS is what YOU’RE supposed to be doing!” So it began. The United Methodist Church has a very detailed and involved candidacy process, which includes a seminary degree. She served as a student pastor to a small church in nearby Iola, Texas, during her last two years in seminary, and with her graduation from Perkins School of Theology at SMU in 2000, she was ready to “take her show on the road.” In other words, she was now subject to the appointment system of the highly organized United Methodist Church. Her first appointment was as an associate pastor of the First UMC in Palestine, Texas, so we sold our home near Somerville Lake and moved into our first parsonage since we were kids. Parsonage life as an adult is, of course, a very different experience than that of a child. Plus, some things have changed over the years. For instance, 50 years ago in west Texas the only furniture we owned was the washer, dryer, and a piano. Moving was usually done by a caravan of pickup trucks from the new appointment. My brother and I always hoped for a bedroom with twin beds, but if our room had a full bed, we would soon draw the infamous imaginary line down the middle of the bed, which no brother was allowed to cross! Today, we own all our own furniture and the conference pays professional movers to move us. However, the furniture policy was phased in over the last several years, so our first parsonage in Palestine was mostly furnished – in “early American garage sale.” Church people can be very generous when buying new furniture by dumping, I mean donating old furniture. We were blessed with about half a dozen old recliners in that house. Sadly, most of the furniture that we gave away before the move was better quality than what we lived with for the next 3 years. Every situation in life has advantages and disadvantages, so I was grateful that when changing towns I no longer had to worry over buying and selling a home, when the roof in the den leaked buckets during the first heavy rain, I did not have to pay for repairs, nor did I have to pay to have the swarming termites removed from my home--either time. We’ve had much better luck with our parsonages since that first one, and, by the way, the Palestine church sold that house after we moved out. The United Methodist Church has been ordaining female clergy for over 50 years, and yet it still comes as something of a shock when a church gets its first woman preacher. Most people get over it quickly. Sadly, some never do. It is difficult for some people to change their thinking about a topic when they’ve been taught to think another way for so long--even if that teaching was misguided and inaccurate. Many faithful Christians believe--because they’ve been told--that the Bible doesn’t condone women in the ministry. I disagree, and since I’ve seen with my own eyes what God’s call into the ordained ministry looks like, I seriously doubt God would be calling so many women into the ministry if it wasn’t proper. Fortunately, the vast majority of our members have been very supportive, but of course the best stories are about the few who weren’t. After three years in Palestine, Beverly was appointed as an associate pastor to the FUMC in Conroe, Texas. This was a new experience for both of us because this was a large church--3000 members! Neither of us had ever been a part of such a large congregation. Bev was one of two full-time associates. On our first Sunday in Conroe, a large reception was held in the gym. As the people filed by shaking our hands and welcoming us to the church, one tall, stately older woman fixed her gaze on me and challenged me with, “Do you help out?” Taken somewhat aback and not at all sure what she was asking for, I replied something about how I do what I can. She quickly shot back, “What I mean is, do you have a job?” Still somewhat stunned, I was glad to report that I had a job--teaching math at the local high school. She then moved on, but as I reflected on the incident, I had to ask myself, “Did she think me a gigolo, living off the lucrative salary of an associate pastor???” Never thought I looked the part. My name, Bill, is very common for my age group. When Beverly was first being introduced to the staff at Conroe, they asked her what her husband’s name was. When she told them, they groaned, because the senior pastor AND the other associate pastor were also named “Bill!” I was able to use this fact for my amusement when the three “Bills,” with wives, attended the district preacher’s Christmas party that year. As we approached a large round table, I suggested, “Let’s sit: Bill-girl-Bill-girl-Bill-girl!” With the advent of female clergy in the church, came the inevitable side effect of male spouses. The Preacher’s wives organization had to be renamed “Clergy Spouses.” This change happened years ago, but still people slip up. At the first district meeting after moving to Conroe, our District Superintendent presided over the initial gathering that included all pastors in the district plus their spouses. At the end of the general meeting, he said, “And now the preachers can stay in here while the wives meet in Room 101.” I immediately spoke up and said, “Where do you want me to go?” Red-faced and apologetic, he rephrased his instructions to include all spouses. Life sometimes comes full circle. In 2003 I decided to cut off what little sad hair I had and wear it at a length somewhere between very short and bald. With this most basic of all haircuts, it only made sense for Bev to start cutting my hair. Then it struck me: as a small boy growing up in Methodist parsonages, I attended school on week days, multiple church services on Sundays, and my father/preacher cut my hair very short. Now, 50 years later, I still attended school on week days (as a teacher); I still attended multiple church services on Sundays; I was once again living in a parsonage; and once again, the preacher in my house cut my hair – very short! When people ask what it’s been like to live as the spouse of a pastor, I can honestly say that while unexpected at first, I feel it is a role I was born to play. As a life-long Methodist and son of a Methodist preacher, I already had the basic background for dealing with many of the issues that face a pastor’s family. As a teacher, it was easy to move with each new appointment and find a job in the area. With a background in music and some basic piano skills, I’ve been able to help out in many worship services and participate in every church choir. Now that I’m retired, I act as a “full-time volunteer” at the church, which provides me with a wide variety of experiences and “never a dull moment!” My wife’s job is a challenging one. Church people are not always “Christian” in their behavior, especially with one another, but then we all fall short of God’s ideals at times. Beverly has never been more at peace with her vocation, and that’s because she’s doing what she was meant to do. I feel I was meant to be a part of her ministry. We’ve learned that with the difficulties of this lifestyle also come many blessings. We’ve met many wonderful people and seen many wonderful things happen in the churches we’ve served. So what’s my life like as the spouse of a pastor? It’s my life, the only life I know. I’m content. I’m where I’m supposed to be. Who could ask for anything more? enough

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The Pastor’s Spouse

Bill Tune

bctune@gmail.com

My wife is a preacher. This is still a foreign concept to some people, and many of them think the only thing stranger than a woman preacher is a man who would marry one. In my defense, I did not marry a preacher. I married a PK who later became a preacher. In fact, one of the things we had in common, besides our time together in the Longhorn Band, was the fact that we were both PK’s (preacher’s kids). Her Dad was a Baptist minister and mine, a Methodist.

Beverly’s path to ordained ministry had many ironic twists and turns. For starters, she let it be known early in our relationship that she did not want me to end up in the ministry as she did not want the life of a “preacher’s wife.” Fortunately, that was never an issue for me. I sincerely believe God calls a select few individuals to preach the word, and I’ve never been so inclined. Beverly, on the other hand…. I won’t go into too much detail here because this paper is about me, not her. However, since her life journey is so closely intertwined with mine, some explanation is needed.

Beverly spent many years searching for “something.” She was an outstanding educator for many years, sold Mary Kay Cosmetics for a couple of years, all the while attending a variety of Bible studies, but something was always missing. Then she finally got her answer (she thought) some time in the late 80’s when she heard God’s call to the ministry – for ME! (Guilty conscience?) I could now do so with her blessing. One problem – I had no desire and, more importantly, no calling to pursue a career in the ministry. I told her then that if anyone in our family should be a preacher, it was she, not me. (I had no idea how prophetic those words were.) Finally, in 1995, she attended a spiritual retreat where she got to see several women pastors at work, and this is where God slapped her on the side of the head and said, “THIS is what YOU’RE supposed to be doing!”

So it began. The United Methodist Church has a very detailed and involved candidacy process, which includes a seminary degree. She served as a student pastor to a small church in nearby Iola, Texas, during her last two years in seminary, and with her graduation from Perkins School of Theology at SMU in 2000, she was ready to “take her show on the road.” In other words, she was now subject to the appointment system of the highly organized United Methodist Church. Her first appointment was as an associate pastor of the First UMC in Palestine, Texas, so we sold our home near Somerville Lake and moved into our first parsonage since we were kids.

Parsonage life as an adult is, of course, a very different experience than that of a child. Plus, some things have changed over the years. For instance, 50 years ago in west Texas the only furniture we owned was the washer, dryer, and a piano. Moving was usually done by a caravan of pickup trucks from the new appointment. My brother and I always hoped for a bedroom with twin beds, but if our room had a full bed, we would soon draw the infamous imaginary line down the middle of the bed, which no brother was allowed to cross!

Today, we own all our own furniture and the conference pays professional movers to move us. However, the furniture policy was phased in over the last several years, so our first parsonage in Palestine was mostly furnished – in “early American garage sale.” Church people can be very generous when buying new furniture by dumping, I mean donating old furniture. We were blessed with about half a dozen old recliners in that house. Sadly, most of the furniture that we gave away before the move was better quality than what we lived with for the next 3 years. Every situation in life has advantages and disadvantages, so I was grateful that when changing towns I no longer had to worry over buying and selling a home, when the roof in the den leaked buckets during the first heavy rain, I did not have to pay for repairs, nor did I have to pay to have the swarming termites removed from my home--either time. We’ve had much better luck with our parsonages since that first one, and, by the way, the Palestine church sold that house after we moved out.

The United Methodist Church has been ordaining female clergy for over 50 years, and yet it still comes as something of a shock when a church gets its first woman preacher. Most people get over it quickly. Sadly, some never do. It is difficult for some people to change their thinking about a topic when they’ve been taught to think another way for so long--even if that teaching was misguided and inaccurate. Many faithful Christians believe--because they’ve been told--that the Bible doesn’t condone women in the ministry. I disagree, and since I’ve seen with my own eyes what God’s call into the ordained ministry looks like, I seriously doubt God would be calling so many women into the ministry if it wasn’t proper. Fortunately, the vast majority of our members have been very supportive, but of course the best stories are about the few who weren’t.

After three years in Palestine, Beverly was appointed as an associate pastor to the FUMC in Conroe, Texas. This was a new experience for both of us because this was a large church--3000 members! Neither of us had ever been a part of such a large congregation. Bev was one of two full-time associates. On our first Sunday in Conroe, a large reception was held in the gym. As the people filed by shaking our hands and welcoming us to the church, one tall, stately older woman fixed her gaze on me and challenged me with, “Do you help out?” Taken somewhat aback and not at all sure what she was asking for, I replied something about how I do what I can. She quickly shot back, “What I mean is, do you have a job?” Still somewhat stunned, I was glad to report that I had a job--teaching math at the local high school. She then moved on, but as I reflected on the incident, I had to ask myself, “Did she think me a gigolo, living off the lucrative salary of an associate pastor???” Never thought I looked the part.

My name, Bill, is very common for my age group. When Beverly was first being introduced to the staff at Conroe, they asked her what her husband’s name was. When she told them, they groaned, because the senior pastor AND the other associate pastor were also named “Bill!” I was able to use this fact for my amusement when the three “Bills,” with wives, attended the district preacher’s Christmas party that year. As we approached a large round table, I suggested, “Let’s sit: Bill-girl-Bill-girl-Bill-girl!”

With the advent of female clergy in the church, came the inevitable side effect of male spouses. The Preacher’s wives organization had to be renamed “Clergy Spouses.” This change happened years ago, but still people slip up. At the first district meeting after moving to Conroe, our District Superintendent presided over the initial gathering that included all pastors in the district plus their spouses. At the end of the general meeting, he said, “And now the preachers can stay in here while the wives meet in Room 101.” I immediately spoke up and said, “Where do you want me to go?” Red-faced and apologetic, he rephrased his instructions to include all spouses.

Life sometimes comes full circle. In 2003 I decided to cut off what little sad hair I had and wear it at a length somewhere between very short and bald. With this most basic of all haircuts, it only made sense for Bev to start cutting my hair. Then it struck me: as a small boy growing up in Methodist parsonages, I attended school on week days, multiple church services on Sundays, and my father/preacher cut my hair very short. Now, 50 years later, I still attended school on week days (as a teacher); I still attended multiple church services on Sundays; I was once again living in a parsonage; and once again, the preacher in my house cut my hair – very short!

When people ask what it’s been like to live as the spouse of a pastor, I can honestly say that while unexpected at first, I feel it is a role I was born to play. As a life-long Methodist and son of a Methodist preacher, I already had the basic background for dealing with many of the issues that face a pastor’s family. As a teacher, it was easy to move with each new appointment and find a job in the area. With a background in music and some basic piano skills, I’ve been able to help out in many worship services and participate in every church choir. Now that I’m retired, I act as a “full-time volunteer” at the church, which provides me with a wide variety of experiences and “never a dull moment!”

My wife’s job is a challenging one. Church people are not always “Christian” in their behavior, especially with one another, but then we all fall short of God’s ideals at times. Beverly has never been more at peace with her vocation, and that’s because she’s doing what she was meant to do. I feel I was meant to be a part of her ministry. We’ve learned that with the difficulties of this lifestyle also come many blessings. We’ve met many wonderful people and seen many wonderful things happen in the churches we’ve served. So what’s my life like as the spouse of a pastor? It’s my life, the only life I know. I’m content. I’m where I’m supposed to be. Who could ask for anything more?

enough