The contrast between Austin and Lois Hunter’s first pastorate in the heart of Appalachia and today’s upscale Miami congregation is in some ways a parable of the radical shift that overtook their communication.
They spent a little less than two years in Pie, West Virginia, a coal-mining village as homespun as its name, not far from the Kentucky border. This was their internship in the midst of seminary, and they lived in a four-room parsonage, one room of which was Austin’s study.
The furnishings were hand-me-downs; plastic curtains hung at all windows. There was no television, no radio, not even a telephone. But most unique was the fact that this house had no interior doors. Each room was open to the other three.
Says Austin with a smile:
Given the fact that we were newlyweds, that made for its own distractions when I was supposed to be preparing sermons.
Seriously, Lois and I were together more actual hours those first twenty months than most couples are in their first ten years. There was no way to get away from each other! We were practically never apart, except when I was out making calls.
It really developed our partnership.
They found out each other’s assortment of strengths and gifts in the ministry. They learned how to supplement one another; they discovered where they could work together smoothly and where they were better off taking separate tracks. They look back with fondness to the unity of those early days in the hills.
Once seminary had been completed, the Hunters gave five years to a church in Georgia, where their two children were born. Then came the move to a faltering congregation of fewer than fifty in Miami. They stabilized the ministry there and saw a steady growth begin that has continued for more than fifteen years. Their hearty openness, deep caring, and sincere spirituality has helped attract a congregation of almost a thousand today.
Austin’s counseling ministry drew special attention from the beginning. Those who were helped naturally began sending their troubled friends his direction. This, on top of the many other responsibilities of leading a growing church in a metropolitan area, quickly filled his calendar.
Lois was busy herself as a mother, piano teacher, and girls’ club director. She did not realize what was happening until sometime in the early 1970s. The church secretary, who worked three days a week, was starting to fall behind, so Lois volunteered to fill in the other two days as a stopgap measure.
A certain woman in the church had a standing appointment with Austin each Tuesday afternoon. For the first time, Lois saw at close range the kind of help and care her husband was extending.
I knew this gal had a history of emotional problems; it was valid for Austin to be seeing her. But I found myself sitting there at the typewriter crying. I couldn’t hear what was being said in the inner office, of course, but I could hear the quiet tone of conversation, the laughter every once in a while—for an hour or even an hour and a half, every week.
I’d try to keep my mind on my typing, but it was tearing my heart out, because I didn’t feel even I could talk to him an hour and a half a week. I didn’t have his undivided attention.
People would drop by the office or stop Lois on Sunday morning to say how wonderful her husband was, how greatly they had been helped by his marvelous caring. That was not what she needed to hear. She wanted to scream back, Why you and not me?!
Finally, she decided to speak up. As Austin recalls their encounter:
In a very firm, no-nonsense way, she said, “Do I have to make an appointment with you in order to receive what I see you giving so generously to others?”
That really rattled my cage. The fact of the matter was, she deserved my time and attention. She should have had it first. Instead, she was getting the leftovers.
That confrontation led to the establishing of a weekly date each Friday from noon to two o’clock, time reserved for the marriage alone. Austin explains the ground rules:
Lois has control over that time block. She can even cancel it if she wants. But I can’t.
She sets the agenda. If she wants me to go shopping with her, fold clothes, work in the yard, read a book out loud, go for a boat ride, go to bed, or whatever … here I am. Actually, we’ve done all those things, and more.
This has become a time I look forward to now. When I fantasize about retirement, I think mainly about spending time with Lois. It’s gotten in my blood.
Has this practice solved the deep need for attention and communication in the Hunter marriage? Yes and no. It has created a time-space to look forward to, an assurance that the other person’s undivided availability is never more than seven days away. The initials “LH” in Austin’s Day-Timer pocket calendar each Friday affirm that here is a priority of the first order.
Lois talks about why it is not a cure-all, however:
Probably my greatest [remaining] frustration is that I can’t find time to bring up the tough things that need discussing. I don’t want to use my Friday date for those. I don’t want to end up in tears then.
I tend to procrastinate on those subjects, keep sweeping them under the rug. But that’s not the way to do it.
Still, I find it hard to program my crucial discussions. When something is bothering me on Monday, I can’t wait till Friday to talk about it.
Debates in this marriage tend to get noisy, given the two personalities and the homes in which they were raised. Austin, a take-charge kind of man who has been known to chuck his ministerial decorum at a football game and tell an abusive fan to clam up, defends his viewpoint at home as well. It is almost entertaining to listen to this couple describe their face-offs:
Austin: See, I don’t like to lose! I don’t do anything without intending to win—whether it’s foosball, golf, or a formal debate. Otherwise, why mess with it?
Then I get in the car and drive for ten minutes and say, “That was really stupid of me.” I need to become more sensitive to the fact that [my aggressiveness] isn’t the way to arrive at a decision with someone like Lois.
When I stand up there [in the pulpit] on Sunday, I speak authoritatively. Nobody challenges me—at least not right then. I speak on the veracity of the Word of God, and I declare it.
The only problem is, that has a tendency to spill over into private life. I speak authoritatively when I don’t have the backing of the Word of God—just my personal opinion!
Lois: He tends to overpower our arguments. And that devastates me. He regrets it, too, once he realizes it. We’ve had tears over it—both of us.
Austin: See, if I sense I’m losing an argument, I kick the volume up.
Lois: Or he’ll do what he advises every counselee not to do: he’ll grasp for support by bringing up other subjects that are still unresolved.
Austin: If something has been argued and settled, we don’t bring it up again; that’s wrong. But if it’s something unresolved, even if unrelated.…
For example, Lois has a chronic habit of starting [to prepare for going out] too late. At the time I’m ready to leave the house, she’s putting a blouse in the dryer. (It’s one reason we often drive two cars. I get to the place much less stressed.)
Now, if we get in an argument about whether we’re going to make a certain purchase, or something about the children—I’ve been known to say, “You’re angry because the kids are indifferent to time. Well, you trained them to be that way!” It has nothing to do with the subject at hand, but it sure helps the argument.
My points are always valid; they’re just not always relevant! [Laughter from Lois]
We don’t have major disagreements. We have major flare-ups over minor disagreements.
Lois: But he has mellowed through the years. He’s had to work at it. His whole family is very explosive. Now, whenever we go see his brother on vacation, he can’t get over how bossy he is to his wife.
Austin: In our twenty-seven years of marriage, I have accomplished a great deal in that I’ve taught Lois how to fight. I’ve created a monster for myself, but.…
She didn’t know how to deal with conflict. Now she can confront it.
When we first married, I could blow her out of the water with the first four-cylinder word. I knew she didn’t understand some of the words, ’cause I made’ em up! Now, she knows who she is and where she’s coming from. She values herself. She’s more than just Austin Hunter’s wife.
How has this couple come to such a freewheeling and yet healthy relationship? One senses a great deal of positive respect and love between them. Perhaps the Friday dates have something to do with that. These people know they are important to each other, important enough to turn off the world, the ministry, and the children at least once a week. From this base has grown wholeness and strength.
Reflections
by Louis McBurneyThe closeness Lois sees her husband having with other people creates several feelings: neglect, loneliness, anger, and insecurity about herself as a person, wondering what she’s done or hasn’t done that makes her somehow undeserving.
This is common among ministers’ wives. What often happens is that the wife becomes increasingly hostile and critical about the situation, which only drives her husband further away.
It is important for pastors and wives to realize that the dynamics of church relationships are very different from the husband/wife relationship. It is extremely easy for a woman in the church to see him as a hero. When that happens, the pastor can begin to operate according to Willie Sutton’s Law (“I rob banks’ cause that’s where the money is”). He spends time where he gets acclaim, praise, and good strokes.
It is striking in this narrative how Lois grew as a person after the beginning of the Friday date, how she began to speak up to Austin more. She is now more than just the pastor’s wife, says her husband; she knows who she is. It is crucial for wives to develop a sense of identity for themselves. As they become more secure in themselves as persons of worth and value, apart from their husbands, they are able to deal more effectively with conflict in the relationship as well as in the church.
Some women have trouble taking the initiative as Lois Hunter did. My suggestion is that they go and talk with an older, mature Christian woman who can listen and can tell her own life experience. They may be threatened by the prospect of going to a professional counselor, but they can feel comfortable approaching another pastor’s wife or someone similar.
There are any number of good books about self-esteem that are helpful, too.
Ultimately, it’s good if the husband can get involved in this development of his wife’s self-identity. We find it extremely valuable to include the spouse in our counseling, so that whatever is dealt with and learned is reinforced at home rather than sabotaged—which is what often happens when one person goes away, gets some insight, and tries to change.
Wives sometimes have to be willing to yell and get some attention, as Lois Hunter did. They have to point out their need. We’ve heard of wives who have called their husband’s office and, using a pseudonym, made an appointment to see him! Anything like that is fair game to get the attention of a workaholic.
Copyright © 1985 by Christianity Today
