As I’ve thought about it this week, I think that this is the moment, as pastors’ families, that God has positioned us to be true ambassadors of optimism. It doesn’t mean that we can’t weep a little at what has been lost. But we can also look ahead with anticipation to what God has planned for the future. It isn’t the independent stallion that is easily moldable by its owner; it’s the little colt, who will come right up and eat from its master’s hand. It’s exciting to think about what God will accomplish through churches that are a little bit humbled, a little bit unsure, a little bit more dependent on Him.

Our church met inside our building on Sunday for the first time since mid-March. As the pastor, Chad has been through several phases in the past two months, from the exhaustion of ministering in the early days, tending to all of the financial needs, the fear, the online production, to the parking lot services where he preached in the open air and heard the words of his sermons echoing back to him off the fronts of houses in the neighborhood. His pastor from childhood, Bro. Jimmy Draper, advised Chad at the beginning of this pandemic to be “an ambassador of optimism” as he figured out how to navigate these strange waters. For the most part, he has done so. He has been a strength to those of us who needed someone to lean on in the uncertainty.

As his wife, I have, in some ways, struggled through these past few months with him. I don’t know if it’s ever possible for someone who isn’t a pastor to fully understand the burdens that they bear, but a pastor’s wife does have an inkling.

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