It is, as I write this, six AM on Wednesday morning, November 14, 2018. This is, altogether, the hardest morning of my life. I had thought that the morning in the hospital following my by-pass could never be eclipsed. I thought my hospital room was in an airplane and the airplane was streaking straight into the ground. But this morning is far worse. It is real, not drug induced. And, even if that other dream had been real and we would have crashed, at least it would have been over. This morning, and all the mornings too follow, will be met with the same crushing realization.

This morning, at 5:30, Marsha drove out of our driveway. She has left me. No yelling, no screaming, no accusations. That is not the way we have ever done things. This was not done suddenly, but over a period of three months. Marsha’s desire, not mine, but no fussing or arguing. Sunday, we went to Marion for lunch. Monday, we did Chinese in Huntington. Lots of talking, but that is normal for us. These conversations were hardly normal, but if you had been casually observing us for the last several months, you would not have seen anything alarming.

In the middle of August, I noticed a change. Marsha has never been able to hide her feelings. She has always thought that she has this great poker face, which has always been funny to me. So, I noticed a change. I asked if everything was OK and I was assured that everything was fine. I have always felt that everyone is entitled to their privacy. However, I was alerted. Vacation came and we went to Ohio. It was an OK kind of vacation. Not great, not awful. There was a cloud. A few days after we got home, Marsha told me she wanted to leave. My first thought was that her medicines might be affecting her. I got her to go to the doctor. He felt she needed counseling, so she was sent to counseling. Weeks, nothing changed. Marsha just wanted, even needed, to leave.

At one time I was a member of the American Association of Christian Counselors. I do know a lot about the human psyche and I know a lot about Marsha. It would have been wrong for me to have tried to counsel her, but I believe I can go back to the beginning of this problem.

First, ministry is very hard on families. People on the outside looking in rarely see the struggle. Ministry families are human. They have all the regular stresses regular families have. But they also have other stresses. Every problem someone has becomes the pastor’s problem, as well. That is why we are here, but it can create tensions and stress. Usually, the pastor can deal with it, but knowing her husband is struggling affects the wife. If the church is having problems, it is the pastor’s fault. When I worked with churches in crisis, almost every church I talked to had issues with former pastors. I would explain that after you have had five or six ‘bad’ pastors, the reality was probably that the issues were actually the congregations rather than the pastor, they were just blaming their pastors. It didn’t go over well, but it was true. So, the pastor is to blame. The pastor is often considered the ‘hired help’ and that is transmitted to the rest of the family. The first time Marsha heard one of the men in our Ohio church say to our young son, “You are the pastor’s son! You need to set the example!” she came unglued. He and another boy were running in the church. The people were mostly out and they were coming to me to ask permission to do something. Just like any other kid. But he was different. And Marsha. She was never just Marsha, one of women in the church. She was Marsha, the pastor’s wife. She was expected to act different, cook better and always have a wonderful attitude. Other women would complain to her about this or that, fully expecting her to tell me their complaints. When the pastor was being blamed for the church’s short comings, the pastor’s wife was expected to keep quiet. There is more, but you get the idea. Pressures and stresses for the wife that no one thinks about. Toss in Marsha’s health issues, it has not always been pleasant. Here, in Indiana, she has felt more at home than at any other time in ministry. But these things build up over time. Still, there is another issue.

The church I pastored in Ohio for eleven years was having an ongoing situation with their denomination when we got there, very much like the issue the Yoke had with their denominations a few years ago. In this case, I lost my retirement. Men have a different thought process than women. I went away with the assurance the Lord would provide. Marsha did, too, but not with the same conviction. Still, that was almost twenty years ago. You don’t let it eat at you when you are young. For all these years I have taken care of situations, challenges and major bumps. Of course I would handle the retirement problem.

But then I was in that hospital bed on that plane that was heading for the ground at supersonic speed, screaming into the night. Marsha had never seen me like that. Then, as I recovered, I was feeble, struggling to get around. Marsha had never seen me like that, either. Then I passed out and rolled my car over. Still hurts to sneeze or cough deeply. Now it seems that maybe Larry can’t handle these things. All of that has played on Marsha’s mind. Finally, the only recourse she sees is home.

I know it doesn’t make sense. However, Marsha is not your regular person. I talked about men and women being wired differently. Well, Marsha is wired even more differently. Our son asked me once how I could follow her reasoning on things. “How do you do it, Dad?” That was asked with awe in his voice. I guess I just know how the wiring runs. I know that there are 110 plugs that are wired for 220, and the other way around. Like I say, I know how the wiring runs.

There are, as you might suspect, another couple of issues. Marsha deserves what everyone else deserves; privacy. You might ask the question about reconciliation. That is so unlikely as to be almost impossible. Again, it has to do with the wiring. The stresses over the years have taken their toll. A man in our church in Ohio once asked Marsha how she put up with the scraps. She looked at him with confusion and so he explained that everyone needed me, so all she had left were the scraps. That was just before he and his wife went to Florida for the winter. On Christmas day I spent several hours, something like six hours, on the phone with this man as he gave me live updates of his wife’s agonizing death. He needed me, he truly did need me. He never considered the ‘scraps’ he was leaving for Marsha on Christmas day. All of that adds up.

There are other ramifications that will more directly affect the church.   

In 1 Timothy 3:1-5 we have the real qualifications for a pastor. The word ‘pastor’ is not used, but it is only used in two or three places in Scripture. But in this passage, it speaks of the one who has the responsibility of seeing to the church. Thus, the ‘pastor’ in our understanding. There are those who would disagree and say that this doesn’t apply, but if this doesn’t apply to jus today, then nothing applies. 1 Timothy 3:1-5 reads---The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task. Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God's church?  One whose family has fallen apart is not qualified to pastor. Pretty clear. Some will say that this will pass. Yes, I imagine I will get to the point to where it doesn’t hurt quite so bad or there could always be a reconciliation. If a reconciliation happens, we will see. But that is down the line. This is now.

          I have resigned as pastor to the church Board. February 17, 2019 will be my last Sunday. The Board was extremely gracious to me. It became something of a prayer meeting. They love Marsha and they love me. This is a blow to everyone.

          HOWEVER, THIS IS NOT A TELLING BLOW! This doesn’t even have to a major setback. This church is doing some great things under the leadership of the Lord. When Satan hears the sounds of the pounding hammers and the whine of the saws, when he sees the workmen working hard but laughing and joking, when he sees excitement in the congregation and when he feels the attitude, he is powerless. So, he attacks where he can, where no one is looking and no one expects. And he draws a little blood. But he cannot kill it. Only you, the congregation, can let this new time die on the vine. You are better than that, and you know it. February 17 will probably be the last sermon I ever preach as a pastor, but that doesn’t kill the vision God has for this church. You will move on and you will reach higher heights than you thought possible!

          The word ‘Christian’ was used in the early church as a mockery to believers. Those early believers took the mockery and made it a sign and a name of joy. A pastor pointed out this fact to me forty years ago. “The word changed them. The way I remember it is like this. CHRISTIAN. Take away CHRIST and all you have is IAN. To me that means, without CHRIST, I Am Nothing.” That has always stuck in my mind. You folks have Christ, therefore you have everything, and you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.

          Blessings.