Eighteen months after our wedding day, we had our first child. One month later we started seminary, eagerly looking forward to a life of ministry.
Ten years later our marriage had degenerated from ministry dreams to marital nightmares. We were ministering to other married couples while our own marriage was a mess.
Like two drowning victims, we frantically fought each other, gasping for air, until it was almost too late.
Although we never used the word divorce, we both knew our marriage was sinking. Like two drowning victims, we frantically fought each other, gasping for air, until it was almost too late. This is the story of what went wrong. But it’s also the story of our surprising encounter with God’s grace, which healed and restored our marriage.
Ministry dreams
p Julie: After four stressful years of seminary—agonizing with my husband through Greek and hermeneutics, scrounging for canned vegetables at the local food pantry, delivering two babies, working until 1:00 A.M. as a waitress—Matt finally graduated. We had the prize, and now life would get better, easier, and “normal.”
That June we moved to our first church, a small congregation in rural Minnesota.
I had expectations and even dreams for this little church. On a practical level, I assumed that they would pay us well.
On a spiritual level, I was excited about standing proudly beside my husband, sharing my gifts, ideas, and my passion for ministry.
Of course, one special moment does not heal a broken marriage. And I had no idea how much deep change God would require of me.
The reality of church life quickly shattered those dreams.
During our first Christmas there, I planned a special gift for the church—an open house at the parsonage. I spent hours creatively laying out my offering of love—trays of cut vegetables and hot appetizers, steaming spiced cider, new Christmas lights, and beautiful luminaries on the sidewalk.
The time came, but no friends did.
After waiting an hour, one church member finally straggled in to my party.
So much for any excitement about sharing my gifts!
By summer I was willing to try again. This time I decided to work my way through the church directory, inviting every family into our home for homemade ice cream.
We started with the Andersons, a family with three wild boys. Instead of eating my homemade ice cream, they smashed it into the carpet and couch, leaving a trail of destruction, and staying until nearly midnight. We stopped at the Andersons and never made it to the Zieglers.
I lost everything I thought was important—my career, my success, my emotional fantasy—but I began to regain everything God valued.
These incidents epitomized a larger pattern: I didn’t feel accepted or valued at our church. I didn’t know how to fit in. I think we were both trying to figure each other out but, through no one’s fault, we just didn’t seem to connect.
Once at the meeting for our women’s group, they passed a basket collecting money. I leaned over to an older woman and whispered, “What is this Sunshine Club for anyway?”
“You don’t know what the Sunshine Club is?” she snapped. “Well, we’ll see if you ever get a card when you’re in the hospital!”
Living in a small town, surrounded by strangers and a culture I didn’t understand, I felt like I’d been tossed into the middle of a lake in a dense fog. I was supposed to swim to shore, but I had no idea how.
While Matt gave more and more of his heart to the church, I began to build a wall of protection around my emotions. As Matt charged forward, I retreated, withdrawing into a shell.
Matt: I didn’t have huge expectations of the church or my marriage (or so I thought). I did expect great things from myself.
Unfortunately, I had no idea that my expectations were so deeply rooted in my heart’s unhealed wounds. I longed to be a “faithful” pastor—loving people, preaching quality sermons, casting a vision for new growth.
Naturally, I expected Julie to help me. After all, this was always “our” vision.
I was surprised when Julie expressed disappointment and hurt in her role as a pastor’s wife. She kept saying things like, “I feel like everyone in the church is more important than me.” I didn’t understand the depth of her hurt—I thought she just needed to get over her irritation and anger, so I minimized her feelings and poured myself with fresh energy into building the church.
Then, shortly after the birth of our fourth child, our daughter called me at the church to casually say, “Dad, you better come home. Mom just collapsed on the floor, and she says she’s not moving again. I think she’s dead.”
I sighed and came home to revive my melodramatic wife. At the time, I considered myself a good pastor and a good husband. After all, I took a day off each week. Sure, I obsessed about church matters all day long, but at least I was home.
In retrospect, I cherished the church and I cherished my children, but I had no clue how to cherish Julie—and I was too busy and too arrogant to learn.
Growing contempt
p Julie: Vowing I wouldn’t end up a bitter pastor’s wife, I developed a life outside of our church and our original dream. After all, I reasoned, if Matt couldn’t be there for me, if the church couldn’t use my gifts, I certainly shouldn’t spend my life being miserable and alone.
So after completing a master’s degree in counseling, I launched myself into a local practice. I forced myself to attend worship services, but to me it was “Matt’s church.”
I told myself that I’d tried baby showers, Bible studies, small groups, prayer meetings, and conferences—all of which seemed to fail. So I gave up. I just didn’t fit at the church.
Besides, in my mind, Matt had allowed the church to swallow his life and our marriage. He had established no boundaries, encouraging anyone to stop over at anytime. On his day off, Matt’s body left the office, but his mind and heart still belonged to the church.
There was only one person in the church who knew the depth of my struggle, a middle-aged foster mother named Nancy. She became our mentor and mediator. At times Nancy would sit in our living room late into the evening, listening quietly to my anger and agony.
I would share my deep disappointment about Matt; she would gently confront me with my sin, the need to understand the church people’s perspective, and to work for slow and steady changes to a traditional setting.
Then Matt would share his anger toward me; she would point out his sin and his need to invest more in the marriage. It was actually masterful marital counseling, and she was desperately trying to build a bridge across our mutual contempt.
She managed to hold our tenuous bond together for while.
But I couldn’t see myself as sinning here. It was easy to blame Matt for all of this, but some of the loneliness and isolation had nothing to do with him or the church.
Due to my own childhood wounds, I found it difficult to trust. I also struggled to accept these decent people for who they were; instead, I chose to close my heart even to those who were trying to love me in their own way.
Matt: I was achieving my dreams of success in the ministry—”life-changing sermons,” a revived youth program, church growth, community leadership. But there was still a deep wound in my soul. I desperately needed affirmation from the congregation. Their approval was more important to me than Julie’s. I was getting an “A” in ministry and flunking my marriage.
But rather than healing the wound, my pastoral successes made it worse. I sought the church’s applause, but Julie’s anger toward the church made it all seem hollow and cheap.
I felt like I was constantly covering for her. People in the church would ask, “Where’s Julie today?” and I kept making excuses for her. She spent more time at the counseling center.
Only Nancy knew the real story; I did my best to hide our marital problems. This need to hide made me feel a great sadness and anger, the anger made me try to control Julie, and the drive to control simply pushed her further away.
Amid the ashes of contempt, we occasionally saw signs of love. On Christmas Eve 1994, for example, after watching the kids open presents, we sat silently in the middle of a mound of wrapping paper. I reached out and touched her hand.
“It’s been an awful year and I’m sorry,” I said softly. “And I really do love you.”
Julie burst into tears. We crawled through the paper, embraced, and wept on our knees. It was a tender moment, a moment that rekindled our longing for intimacy and teamwork.
Of course, one special moment does not heal a broken marriage—and I had no idea how much deep change God would require of me.
I still couldn’t hear Julie’s wounded heart. She was angry at me, angry at the church. Our dreams degenerated into disdain. She would come home late from her counseling appointments, and we’d argue. I would come home late from a church meeting, and we’d argue.
Shock treatment
p Matt: I could not understand Julie’s deep resentment. Pastoral ministry was a good thing. I worked fewer hours than many of my colleagues. Compared to the other men in the church, I was in the upper percentile of involved dads. What more could Julie want?
For three years she told me that she felt lonely, wounded, ignored, and unaffirmed. I heard the words without pursuing her heart. I considered it her problem, not mine. I watched Julie slowly drift farther away from me and the church.
Finally, in the summer of 1995, while I led another youth group mission trip, Julie called with some shocking news. As we talked on the phone, I sensed that Julie wasn’t angry anymore. Her voice sounded flat and listless.
“I don’t know if I love you anymore,” she spoke calmly. “And to be honest, I’m really confused because I think I may love someone else.”
Julie: I had no idea how deep I was in my own sin at this point. After four pregnancies, I felt fat and ugly. The attention lavished on me by this other man at the counseling center made me feel beautiful and alive. So rather than looking to God to fill the emptiness in my heart, I latched onto a co-worker’s attention.
We weren’t physically involved, but I found my affections focused on him. I felt like I was living a double-life: pastor’s wife/mother of four children, and mistress to the most powerful man I knew. And the seductiveness of the “second life” was starting to take over.
Matt: I’d had my suspicions about Julie and her co-worker, but whenever I asked, she denied it was anything more than a good working relationship. I just thought that she wanted to be away from me, the kids, and the church. But now she had my attention. I was listening with my whole heart.
For the next six months, I entered a season of repentance and deep sorrow. I realized what I was losing due to my drivenness and neglect. I repented of the way I’d been treating Julie. I knew I had to win her affections again the way I’d done when we were dating.
With fierce and relentless mercy, God exposed and burned away layer upon layer of sin—my misplaced priorities, coldness towards my wife, and deeply-rooted idols. I had been present to the church and emotionally absent to my wife. For five years I had used the demands of ministry as an excuse to ignore my wife’s heart.
I also saw that my drive to succeed as a pastor was entangled with my own issues—my fear of intimacy, my craving for affirmation, my demand for success. But now I urgently longed to move toward God and my wife. Energized by brokenness, I wanted to learn to cherish Julie.
Season of repentance
p Julie: Much to my surprise, I watched Matt change. For the first time in his ministry, he actually started setting boundaries and saying no to people’s demands.
More than that, he started pursuing my heart. When he took a day off, he really took the day off. When we went on vacation, he really left the church behind and focused on me and the kids. No calls back to the office. No shutting himself off to read something ministry-related.
But though I could see he was trying to cherish me, I wasn’t ready to give him my heart. I had too many fears, and besides, I was still emotionally involved with the man at the counseling center.
In the summer of 1996, we moved 80 miles south, and Matt was placed in a church three times the size of our first church. Naturally, I expected the demands of ministry to swallow Matt and his renewed love for me. Matt didn’t let that happen. He stayed true to his boundaries, committing to two and on rare occasions three nights of meetings per week.
Meanwhile, my emotional affair came out in the open.
The director of the counseling center confronted me: “You are spending too much time with this man. Are you having an affair?” I confessed my feelings for this man, but I pointed out that it wasn’t a physical relationship.
The director told me that this was not a situation they could tolerate and let me know my job there was over. Eventually the other man also left the counseling center. We had no more contact.
After losing my job at the counseling center, now it was my turn to enter a season of repentance and sorrow. Despite my rationalizations, this relationship wasn’t a justifiable response to being unhappy at home. It was sin! Others had found out. I felt exposed, and filled with shame and regret. It grieved me that I had hurt Matt and our children. I also began to face some of the unhealed wounds from my childhood—issues of trust, abandonment, and betrayal.
I grieved the loss of my friends and support system—the people surrounding the counseling center had been like family to me. Suddenly those relationships were gone. I fell into depression, lost lots of weight, and started working as a waitress at a grungy diner. But Matt never left my side.
I lost everything I thought was important—my career, my success, and my emotional fantasy—but I began to regain everything God valued.
Rebuilding
p Matt: When Julie told me she’d lost her job at the center, and I realized anew the depth of her feeling for someone else, as painful as it was, our marriage actually began its way up. It was like hearing the doctor’s words after cancer surgery, “I think we got it all this time.”
Julie told me that the relationship with the other man was over, that it was wrong, and that she was committing to rebuilding a marriage with me. And I was determined that the conditions that let her affections stray would not be repeated.
At the same time, we were building a new house, and we chose the lot, the floor plan, and all the details. During the five months of construction, we often commented on how the house was like our marriage—bare earth was slowly transformed into a beautiful home. We were filled with hope and longing for better days.
Julie: After four years of rebuilding trust and new patterns being established, in January of 2001 Matt accepted the senior pastor position at Three Village Church on Long Island.
Though deep down I knew this was God’s will for all of us, my heart filled with fear. What if Matt abandons me again? What if this church swallows his heart and his schedule? What if our marriage disintegrates? All of the issues from the past—things I thought had been laid to rest—began to stir in my heart.
The fear turned to anger and the anger was often directed at Matt. Little things would trigger my rage, and I’d lash out at Matt. I knew I needed counseling, and so did our marriage.
Matt: During the transition time, a wise Christian counselor in Minnesota helped us process this.
For instance, while our family was spending the night at a hotel, Julie asked me to pick up some towels and soap at the front desk. When I returned with the towels but no soap, Julie blew up.
When I mentioned this “ridiculous” and “petty” issue to our counselor, he calmly said, “It wasn’t about the soap, Matt.” I was confused. He continued: “Julie is afraid to move. She’s angry because you may not listen to her. The soap is her. Will you leave her behind or not?”
His gentle insights helped prepare us for the move. He helped us both clear away the clutter and listen to each other. I began to practice better listening skills.
Grace on the Island
p Matt: In 2001 we moved to Long Island and our new “mission outpost” at the Three Village Church. Our daughter is now in college, and we have three active teenage boys. Julie and I have joined together as intimate allies in serving Christ. What an adventure! And what a privilege!
Julie: Not that it’s been easy. Settling and adjusting four children from the Midwest to Long Island culture was sometimes painful. Then, three months after we moved, two planes struck the World Trade Center towers, only 50 miles from our church. Although we did not lose any church members, the suffering caused by missing siblings, co-workers, and friends lasted for months.
Then, last year I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. My type of cancer is very treatable, but my body still hasn’t recovered from the trauma and fear.
The mounting “stress points” of life left me feeling overwhelmed. At times the adjustments, the children’s needs, my new career of counseling and speaking, the cancer appointments, the hundreds of new faces at our church leave me breathless and weary.
But in the midst of all of this, Matt has faithfully stood by me. The church has also surrounded me with love. During my cancer treatments, there were days when we had two or three meals lined up for our dinner. A handful of dedicated church members have joined my ministry team.
A year ago I met with the elder board just to have them hear about my dreams for ministry and to have them surround me with prayer. They were so supportive. And best of all, I actually have people in the church whom I consider good friends.
Matt: I am so thankful for God’s “severe mercies.” What a painful journey it’s been! Both of us had to confront our sin and brokenness—over and over. But out of the mess God has rebuilt our marriage.
Last month, while Julie was cleaning the oven, the kitchen filled with smoke. She called the fire department just to get advice, but within minutes two fire trucks, the chief’s van, and a police car came screaming up to the parsonage.
With sirens blaring and lights flashing, nine firemen rushed into our kitchen with axes and gas masks. Our beagle escaped and started howling in the back yard. Policemen stood guard in the front yard, and our youngest son hopped on his go-cart and raced over to the squad cars.
Neighbors and church members thronged the house, just watching the chaos. Julie and I sat on the front porch and laughed. This was a snapshot of our lives, God’s grace-filled comedy—out of the brokenness and chaos, he brings laughter.
Matt and Julie Woodley are speaking at the National Pastors Convention in Nashville, May 18-22. For information see www.nationalpastorsconvention.com.
Matt and Julie Woodley minister at Three Village Church in East Setauket, New York. Julie is founder of Restoring the Heart Ministries www.rthm.cc.
Copyright © 2004 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
