masking & unveiling

Something unexpected has happened on the blog lately: PEOPLE WHO SHAVE THEIR FACES ARE READING IT.

I'm talking about men, here, people, not Olympic swimmers or unfortunate hairy women. Although both of those groups are welcome here, too.

National church leaders Stevens and Noble both linked to my church hopper blog within the last week. And since their readerships are composed largely of guys in ministry, some of them have made their way over here.

Maybe they just wanted to see if I had more posts on stuff they've wanted to say about other people they don't like in their churches. Perhaps I can even make that a weekly feature: SCAPEGOAT SATURDAYS: I'LL SAY IT SO YOU WON'T HAVE TO. Although I'm thinking that Furtick might already have that job covered every day of the week.

So ministry men, you are welcome to hang out. I won't even make you use a coaster or wipe your feet at the door. And I probably talk about girl stuff less than the average female blogger. To be fair, there was that one post about the agony of choosing a purse that's the right size, and I once wrote about kitchen idolatry. But now you can't say I didn't warn you about those.

To be honest, though, I'd rather you ask your wives to join the fun.

I'm a pastor's wife, and my mother was before me, so I know: They are often lonely. Even in a place where they feel comfortable, they walk a fine, strange line every Sunday. When people introduce them as the pastor's wife, they get a lead backpack full of expectations and presupposition thrown at them in one short sentence. And it's harder for them to make friends sometimes, because they don't know who they can trust, or because people assume they are too busy or too spiritual for them.

They have a lot of pressure on them -- the same kind you do, and a different kind, too. They are often unsure how to encourage you when you're up, or comfort you when you're down. At their core, they want to be the best help they can to you, but sometimes they just don't know how. There aren't many resources for them, either. The ones that are there feel plastic or unrealistic.

One more thing: when someone strikes out at you, they feel it harder and longer than you ever will. Trust me.

I love them and cry for them in my prayers, though I don't even know them. They stand among the eternal, unsung heroes of the faith.

It would be my great honor to spend even a few minutes in their presence.