My Hero

12 Mar

As a pastor, my heroes are supposed to be other pastors or great missionaries but they are not. If I had to choose a hero, I wouldn’t think first of Billy Graham or John MacArthur or John Piper or Rick Warren or some other well-known pastor. I would sooner choose pastors I have known, who modeled the heart of a true shepherd to me. Even sooner would I choose as my hero many older saints I have known and know today, who face every day with a quiet dignity and desire to serve the Lord. I would certainly be inclined to think of my mother and father as heroes, raising three boys in the very best way they could, staying faithful to each other and walking with us through our growing up years.

I would choose any of these people over those famous pastors as heroes. But I have in mind someone else. This person works day after day from sunup to sundown at a thankless job that doesn’t pay her a dime. She gets no credit for sacrificing herself for the good of those she serves. She has to deal with cries and complaints and requests all day, every day. She has to be a cook, a cleaner, a counselor and a companion. Her days are filled with caring for the four she brought into this world and she daily does it without regret and without hesitation. She has home schooled these children day after day, not to be trendy or as a way to be different, not as a way to look down on anyone else or to point to her way as the only right way, but simply because we thought it best for these children.

And yet, she doesn’t live in a bubble. She doesn’t think of being a mother as her only calling in life. She sees herself first as a follower of Jesus and a minister of His grace. So she starts each day with the Lord. She brings spiritual truth to the children all through the day. But even more, she gives her heart and her time to the local body of believers where I serve. She teaches the children on Sunday nights, doing one of the things she most loves doing and is greatly gifted to do: teaching the Bible. She helps coordinate ministry to ladies in our church, trying to help them connect with one another. She drags a kid or two with her to the Sunday morning prayer meeting before church so that she can personally be there to ask God to move. She does none of this to get credit or so that people will think highly of her but just because she loves the Lord and cares about people.

And how she helps me. She is the one who lifts me up on discouraging days. She is unfailingly optimistic, seeing God’s faithfulness as being greater than whatever we face. She doesn’t resent me if I have a long day. She doesn’t hold it against me if I get suddenly called away for an emergency. She puts up with my quirky personality and my offbeat humor and my picky eating and stands beside me all the way.

Her heart is humble enough to acknowledge her failings and sometimes maybe she doesn’t see the wonderful woman God has made her as clearly as I do. And I wanted you to see it to, just in case you don’t know her. If you know her, you already know she’s wonderful.

She’s not perfect, but she’s perfect for me. She’s my hero. She’s my wife.

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