An Exvangelical Goes to a Pastor Gathering

when you're reminded you are, indeed, a pastor's spouse

Hello from Washington, D.C.! No, you are not having déjà vu – I was here almost exactly one year ago. Last year it was for an EMDR conference for me; this year I’m here with my spouse for a pastoral retreat through his denomination. Both times, I find DC an absolutely amazing city to visit and I can’t wait to visit some Smithsonian museums the next couple of days. I give you this preface to also share that though this post feels a little sad, I am actually doing fine and my life is much more than the nature of my spouse’s work.

It’s an interesting experience being a religiously traumatized, mostly ex-Christian at a Christian conference held for leaders of congregations. Fortunately, I like the Disciples of Christ denomination quite a lot and appreciate their focus on social justice, LGBTQ+ inclusion and rights, and open approach to theology. But it’s still a lot of church.

From the gathering, held at National City (the Disciples of Christ church in DC a few blocks from the White House)

I knew this anecdotally, but this week I learned statistically that about 50% of mainline (i.e., not evangelical or Catholic) pastors are slightly or much more liberal than their congregations. I loved seminary¹ for being in the company of so many open-minded, critical thinkers for whom justice issues were not a “whether” question, but a “how” question.

But then you get to churches in the wild, especially but not always in more rural areas, and I might as well be hearing the same old evangelical atonement theology heaven-or-hell binary crap I grew up on. Just with more hymns and old people. As I’ve written about earlier this year, I decided to give myself permission to stop going to a church that triggers me. Even when it’s my own spouse’s church².

The main theme of the gathering is helping pastors care for themselves to prevent burnout. I know we rag on religion a lot here, but stay with me: pastoring is actually a really hard job. You’re often on call at all hours of the day if an emergency comes up. The hours are long (on average, 50 hours a week), pay is usually not great, and pastors of really small churches have to work an extra job or two to make ends meet. You’re asked to hold together – to “shepherd,” if you will – a group of people with disparate interests and motivations and ideas for money / purpose / the future. The church members with the most power over the purse strings are often the oldest ones with very stodgy ideas about how things ought to be done. And the kind of people drawn to ministry (I am NOT referring to megachurch kind of pastors!) are the ones nuts enough to give so much with relatively little reward. It’s a service profession, just like the one I’m in, and plenty of you. They / we are not always great at genuinely caring for themselves.

Honestly, it was kind of depressing, hearing the state of affairs for mainline pastors these days! Things have been especially bad in the extremely polarized Trump era and after the pandemic. (If I never do those years again, it will be too soon). But one question kept coming to mind: Why? Why keep doing this?

Religiously affiliated numbers are crashing, as recent PRRI reports show. Lots of us are wondering “why?” Why religion? Why church?

I went to one breakout session for the spouses of pastors, and it was incredibly comforting to hear the honest stories of other partners in this weird journey. Issues coming from the church: The stated or unstated expectations of a spouse, the pressure of raising kids a certain way, how you’re more an accessory to the main event than your own main event. (Luckily, I don’t experience a lot of that personally but maybe it’s because I’m just not around to hear it 😅). And the issues of being partnered to a pastor: watching them give and give to their church, often feeling like you and the kids get the leftovers. Watching them work so hard and not take care of themselves. Having your social network be full of people who are not truly in a reciprocal relationship with you (this is 10x more true for me as a therapist and something I struggle with in a small town).

Why religion? Why church?

I haven’t written it off – I do attend (sometimes) a tiny, liberal church with connections that bring me comfort, where the kids and I are our own main event. But I often have to actively translate “Christianese” into something that is more palatable for me, using words like inner wisdom or intuition or sense of purpose or guidance from my inner Self. I know I want a life that feels spiritually, though not religiously, rich. And I want community and companions along the way. I love my online community, but I also crave IRL connections with likeminded people.

Why religion? Why church?

I can appreciate the role it plays in many people’s lives. It’s shaped me in profound ways, even though it also hurt me in many ways. But I can settle — at least for now — with the notion of religion being “for thee; not for me,” and my church involvement being a quest for likeminded folks who are kind when I’m there and understanding when I’m not.

And at the end of the day, my spouse and I connect over more than religion and church. He has a job, and so do I, and ultimately they are just jobs — and we are people; partners; parents. For a couple of days, we’ll gallivant to DC museums and take to the local running trail together (which never happens at home with two small kids!). We’re back to just spouses, no pastor required. ❤️

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As always, I’d love to hear to hear your thoughts in the comments! How do you thread the needle of not believing certain things but still craving community? Do you resonate with any of what I’ve shared here?

1. If you’re new here, I got my master of counseling degree from a very liberal Christian seminary.

2. In his defense, he does not preach that way, but the vibes and beliefs of a majority of church members are enough.