I Kissed a Pastor and I Liked It

I sometimes kiss my pastor in his office. It’s quite the scandal. Just a few years ago, I was married to a businessman. Things are quite different now. I live in a different state, attend a new church, and work for my pastor. The good news is that the pastor and the businessman are the same person.

The ongoing joke between my pastor-husband and me is that I married a Philistine. When we were dating, Tim introduced me to all things Schwartzneggar and Brian De Palma. He regretted the De Palma incident (“Body Double”--yuck), but I did become a Terminator fan. Probably out of guilt, he agreed to see “Amadeus” with me, and the Philistine discovered that period films did not have to be sleep-inducing. I also introduced him to tea drinking in huge quantities. Or my mother did (see my blog post on Kate).

Admittedly, the Philistine married a snob. I’d rather read a book than watch a football game. I turn my nose up at TV re-runs that keep him laughing. He will watch “Kindergarten Cop” so many times the DVD is hot to the touch; my choice of repeats involves something British with clever and snarky quotes. I don’t like Walmart (not just for their questionable labor practices, but also because the store is so bland). When we were married, Tim was shocked by my need for new clothes or shoes. He wears things until they fall apart. A handsome guy, he is unconcerned about impressing others with his looks and clothes.

My husband has always reminded me of Nathaniel, who is mentioned in the Gospel of John (John 1:43-50). When Jesus sees Nathaniel, He exclaims, “Here is a true Israelite, in whom there is nothing false,” and he then tells Nathaniel something about him that only a prophet could know. The young man immediately declares his belief in Jesus, that he knows He must be the Son of God and the King of Israel.

When my husband became a believer in Jesus, like Nathaniel he gave his life fully and openly, even though there was a cost to that belief. Tim has no falsehood about him, in him and around him. He loves deeply, truly and faithfully. He loves God first, then family, then those he is called to serve as pastor, shepherd and friend. He can apply quotes from Dickens, The Stones and Davy Crockett films aptly to our family life. He explains the Bible, yet appreciates some South Park (thanks to our son). He is our resident Dr. Doolittle and will lay on the floor and ask our cat or rabbit about their day. Our daughters know to “ask Dad” if they want a special treat from Wegmans or pizza for dinner. He will run right out and get it for them. He is also very funny, which not a lot of people know, because unlike his spouse, he doesn’t enjoy the stage (which is interesting, given that every Sunday the pastor is thrust into the pulpit).

Recently, our fifteen year-old was comparing us to people she called “narcissists” and she said, “You know how humble you and Dad are....Well, Dad is humble. You are...less humble.” I laughed. Yeah, it’s true. But, I’m glad she knows her father’s character, one who does not think more highly of himself than he ought (Romans 12:3). Or, when he struggles with pride, the temptation to be arrogant, or self-righteous, as we all do, he is like Nathaniel, who knows the God he serves and turns to him for strength, forgiveness and grace.

And Tim offers those things to me. Being “less humble,” I need a lot of forgiveness and grace and patience. I am grateful that my life-partner is who he is--my best friend, encourager, tea-maker and my own personal Philistine to continue civilizing. Every girl should have one.

You're Still the One

Someone once told me “yours is a great love story.”  It has taken almost all 34 years we’ve been together to realize that this person is right.  And it happened because of Valentines Day.

I was a single mom.  I was divorced after being abandoned by an abusive alcoholic husband.  I was living on welfare in a trailer trying to get a degree at the University of Missouri.  He was an international student from Pakistan who had only been here a couple of years.

We saw each other first at church.  He’d come with his adviser.  He’d sit in the front.  I’d sit in the back with my wiggly children.  Then one summer, both taking summer-session classes, we met over the soda machine in the Commons.  A daily hello and a smile was followed a week later by him asking to join me as I poured over my Spanish text.  Two hours later, our engaging conversation resulted in my saying yes to a date that weekend.  We’d watch a Bollywood type movie (before Bollywood was big) with English subtitles.  My children would come along as “chaperones.”

He bribed the chaperones with large bags of candy.  He won my heart that night.  Yet, a few months later, I ran.  My brain said no even though my heart said yes.  It was a very snowy day in Missouri in early February.  There was a mounting pile of snow.  The University shut down.  I was home in the low-income projects having upgraded from the trailer.  I was cooking tomato sauce.  The kids clamored as the knock came at the door.

I’ll never forget the sight of him.  He was shivering.  The weather was hard on his skinny Pakistani bones.    He had bags in his hand.  Inside were three small Valentine candy heart boxes for the children.  There was a larger one for me.

In astonishment I said, what are you doing here? 

He said, I didn’t want you to not have anything for Valentine’s Day.

I followed up with, how did you get here? He said, I walked. 


WHAT??? You walked?  You walked three miles in a foot of snow? 

He said: Yes.

Of course by this time he was already in the apartment and I was worried he’d die from pneumonia. My head spin, now what?  Could this be the love of life?  Could I dare trust a man again? And there were other issues, so many issues...

He shared supper with us.  I said: Yes, and within a few weeks I said, I do.  We’ve had a lifetime of joy and sorrow, pain and gladness.  He took on three children, loved them, and raised them with me as we added five more children of our own.  He’s not perfect.  Neither am I. Nor is our marriage. But we are in love and we're still together. 

All the odds were very much against us.  No one thought we’d last.  No one saw any hope for this odd couple who were now Mr. and Mrs. But they were wrong.  We both thank God for our lives together.

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions but at the beginning of this year I made a decision to be more thankful for the wonderful man I married.  He is a good man.  He’s been a great father to our children.  He’s a blessing.  He deserves honor.

We have two songs – at least I think we have two songs, he didn’t stay as romantic as he started J.  The first one is the one I walked down the aisle to when I said “I do.” 

The second one is one that sums up our life in many ways: