divorce

finding affirmation in the call

| Kimberly Smith

Prior to a conversation with my Senior Pastor in 2003, I had never even considered paid vocational ministry. He asked for a meeting and let me know that his sense of God’s plans for the healing, growth and future health of the church included an emphasis on Generational ministry and he thought there was a role for me to play. Despite growing up in church, serving in ministry since I was old enough to be trusted to look after babies and toddlers in the creche (which I think was aged 8!), directing and leading on holiday youth camps, regularly leading kids’ talks and worship in church, and rarely missing a Sunday service; until that moment, it had never even crossed my mind to consider doing any of that as a job!

Perhaps it was because I’d never known a female pastor before. Maybe it was influenced by the fact that most of my church contexts had not always had a paid Senior pastor let alone any other staff. In light of where my life path has taken me since, it seems almost comical to reflect on now, but it just had never been on my radar.

And so, in the office of my Senior Pastor I responded with surprise and nervous laughter at the suggestion. Not long after this moment, I was reading the story of Moses as recorded in Exodus 3 and found a completely relatable narrative.

God speaks to Moses through a burning bush (that bit is less relatable – but bear with me). He has heard the cry of the Israelites, sees their suffering and misery under slavery in Egypt, and He has a plan to rescue them that appears to be largely centred on Moses. It seems Moses responded with surprise and nervous laughter also! He is immediately gripped with self-doubt and fear. “Who am I that I should go?” “…what will I say to them?” “What if they don’t believe me or listen to me…?”

I didn’t mean to be quoting directly from scripture in that meeting in my Senior Pastor’s office but it turns out I was doing a terrific Moses impersonation! Who me? But what do I know? What if I can’t? He also suggested that I would be preaching and at that point I actually laughed out loud.

Here’s the thing, though. I’ve read further in the story and I know that Moses took his questioning and hesitance just a little bit too far. In fact, he said “Please pick someone else!” and the Bible says the Lord’s anger burned against Moses and well, there were consequences. It’s a life motto of mine to always make new mistakes (rather than repeat one that’s already been done) so I decided to arrest my fear-inspired protestations and just say yes!

Initially, that was just a yes to further conversations. It was yes to being open to what God might be saying and to trusting the process of discernment with church leadership, trusted friends and in my own heart. There were some other affirming experiences and words along that journey including the prophetic application of this scripture – Isaiah 54 – The Tent. There was initially resistance from some in the congregation and there were a few spicy conversations had both with me and about me (She’s divorced! She’s a she! etc) but a few months later the church affirmed my appointment to staff as the part time Children’s & Youth Coordinator.

Over 14.5 years of being on staff there I would go on to add theological study to my education qualifications, increase my hours to eventually be full time, lead and develop teams in a fast growing church and expanding ministries, and explore gifting, skills and calling in an environment of great opportunity and support. When I finished my time there I was an Associate Pastor and subsequently moved into a denominational state role.

Ministry life is a wild ride. Like any job there are days that feel more like work than others. As we say in the business, there’s a lot that’s not included on the brochure when it comes to pastoral ministry. There’s a lot that they don’t even include in the fine print because you might not sign on if you knew (assuming we’d read the fine print anyway, who does that? 😉 ). But my anchor through all the challenging times and just as significantly in the fruitful and elating times, has been my sense of call.

I am here at God’s invitation and wholly reliant on Him to do in, for and through me whatever best advances His Kingdom and brings Him glory. It’s my privilege to partner with Him in this way.

The first time I preached a sermon to our morning congregation, a family stood up in protest (of a woman preaching) and made an aggressive exit from the room (and subsequently the church). In that moment, shaken and distracted, it was my confidence in God’s call that recalibrated me. In the conversations that followed (and on numerous occasions across my ministry life subsequently), under the weight of accusation of rebellion and sinfulness, in being challenged as to my knowledge of or obedience to scripture, in the confrontation of others’ deeply held convictions and in the wrestle of my own understanding and the reality of a future reckoning; it was the call that was my true north. Not a call to that specific church or role, but to a broader understanding of how He had equipped me and what He had deposited in my heart to burn as conviction and passion for my part in His mission.

In times of deep personal disappointment (there is nothing quite like ministry and its intense ‘peopleness’ to reveal some of the less than desirable aspects of ones character), loss, failure, falling short of my own and others’ expectations, or when feeling the profound overwhelm of the never-ending task of pastoral ministry and mission – it’s the belief that God has led me here, will use me here, will empower me here, and will comfort me here that sustains me. There is no other place to look that has any security or holds any more clear truth.

When someone makes a step toward Jesus, when a person preaches their first sermon or serves in kids ministry for the first time, when God reveals wisdom for untangling complex issues in a pastoral meeting, when someone says “I think that sermon was just for me”, when you’re present for breakthrough in prayer, when (in my case) I’m facilitating a workshop or mentoring a leader or calling out gifting, when you’re front row for the activity of God – these are the moments the call is clarified and affirmed. These moments call for my favourite hashtags – #dowhatyoulovelovewhatyoudo #canyoubelievewegettodothis You know it if you’ve felt it. The profound sense of being exactly where you should be, doing and being those things you were called to do and be.

There have been many moments in the past 20 years were I’ve begun to reprise my role as Moses. When new frontiers brought new fears. When open doors led to places seemingly beyond my capacity. When situations arose that were outside of my experience and expertise. When hurts were suffered. What will I say? What if they don’t believe me? What if I fail? What if I’m rejected? What if it’s too hard? God answers, “I will be with you!” “It is I who sent you!” “I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.”

That’s when I set down my Moses script and remember my yes. There is confidence in the call.

why I (happily) live in a tent

| Kimberly Smith

You know those years that become lifetime markers? Where your story becomes divided into before and after? 2002 was that year for me.

Amongst a whole lot of changes, challenges and growth it was also a year of great loss. I miscarried a much longed for baby and then my marriage of 8 years ended.

As dramatic as it sounds, it really felt like I was “done”. My greatest hopes for my future – to be a wife and mother – were dashed. I’m 28 years old and I’m done. And, as if my own fears and doubts weren’t screaming loudly enough, others gave voice to judgement and condemnation. “Divorced people can’t serve in the church.”

Done.

Through a dear friend, God illuminated Isaiah 54 to my heart and rarely has a portion of scripture ever spoken so directly and powerfully to my very core.

It’s long. And there are many layers to the significance of all 17 verses and the context of the scripture in the greater biblical narrative. But let me highlight just a few (reading from The Message translation).

“Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,” says the Lord.” v1

‭‭‬‬Boom! What?

“The Lord will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit— a wife who married young, only to be rejected,” says your God.” v6

‭‭‬‬🙋🏼‍♀️

So incredibly affirming and embracing. He sees. He knows. He holds.

Amidst all of the upheaval I was processing two big decisions – an apparent call into generations ministry and what to do with the large family home of which I was now in sole possession.

“More are the children of the barren woman…” at that time there were at least 30 who would come under my ministry umbrella! And God in His grace called me to nurture an ever growing gaggle of children and families that shaped a culture and focus for ministry in the context He placed me. Also moulding a lifelong ministry message and opening my heart and arms to some incredibly special little ones He has gifted to my life over the years since.

But, to the main point of this reflection – the Tent.

“Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes.” v2

‭At a time when it felt like my world and my dreams had been completely shrunk, God’s word to me was one of expansiveness and big picture dreaming. Spread out!!! Think big!! So, as I looked at this big 4.5 bedroom home – purchased with the dream of hosting a growing family but now just a home for one – God was shaping a vision for a different type of filling and a redirecting of my mother-heart to a different kind of loving.

Thus The Tent.

Make room. Make room for ministry, for meeting spaces, for parties, for storage; for a community trailer. Make room for guests, for those in need of emergency accommodation, for the convalescing, the international traveler, for the visitor and those needing a place to call home. Make room for dinner parties for 16 and takeaway on the couch for two. Make room for dreaming and writing, preparing and creating; for baking and making. Make room to embrace and to launch. Make room for tears, for doubts, for reflection, for grieving, for searching; for prayers. Make room for great joy and loud, loud laughter. Make room for deep learning, for growth, for failure and recovery. Make room for singing and dancing and trampoline jumping. Make room for babies and children, for youth and their leaders, for mentors and friendships, for family and colleagues. Make room for memories and moments.

Make room.

Stretch your tent curtains wide. Don’t hold back.

A vision for a physical location, but more importantly a mandate for a way to live. Make room. A desire for an ever-enlarging heart. For ongoing and greater generosity. For continuing openness even when wounding or grief would seek to close me down. For hospitality in its truest definition – welcome, inclusion, comfort and connection.

And now the Tent has relocated. But the physical aspect has only ever been one part. So even though this iteration is smaller (for now) the prophetic vision over it is still as large. The door is open, the kettle at the ready, the guest beds are made, everything is to be shared and my heart’s desire is to always be a place of welcome for all who would come.

The full text of Isaiah 54 (The Message translation) can be found here

talking about divorce

| Kimberly Smith

“The reason there are so many divorces is that we live in a throw away society and no one is willing to work to fix things.”

You’ve no doubt heard a version of this statement before, or possibly even repeated something like it yourself. It is often followed up with comments that start with “in my day” or “I was raised to believe that …”

Yes, the statistics on divorce are alarming at worst, disappointing at best. But not just because they seem to increase or because they might reflect a shift in attitude to marriage (or any other cultural trend that we might point to) but because each of those numbers represents two broken people, maybe a broken family and a whole lot of implications for those in the sphere of this couple … forever!

Divorce is devastating. Divorce is sad. Divorce is taking a ‘one’ that has been created by the union of two and tearing it in half. God says He HATES divorce (Malachi 2 :16) and I can totally understand why. It’s messy, it’s hurtful and its consequences are far reaching. I know this from my own experience – both as a child of divorced parents and as a divorcee myself. 

It doesn’t matter how bad a marriage was, a divorce is never good.

Our language matters.

We need to be more careful in how we talk about divorce – because, again, we’re talking about people. Not just a social trend or statistic. People. On the end of every one of our generalisations is a person who has been impacted by divorce in ways that flippant language not only fails to consider but may also compound. As I move around I hear so many stories of people being unnecessarily wounded by the careless words of others and see the easy traps people fall in when speaking about divorce. Our language matters.

No one gets married intending to be divorced.

No one.

Even people who don’t do anything to make their marriage work aren’t expecting that it won’t! Anyone who finds themselves divorced, even if it was them who initiated and actioned it, is living a different future than they expected. It might be better (safer, healthier, necessary) to not be in the marriage anymore but it still isn’t anyone’s goal to be divorced.

Divorce isn’t the easy way out.

Even when the pathway to divorce is clear – an abusive partner, an unfaithful spouse, untenable circumstances – divorce is not an easy option.

It is practically taxing. Division of assets, closing and opening bank accounts, relocating (for one or both), potential custody considerations and all manner of things required to detach and then re-establish independently and recover financially. It’s emotionally devastating. Even the most amicable of separations are founded on a level of relational fracturing that carries all sorts of implications for a sense of self and one’s view of the world – a life story is forever altered. 

It may seem easier than staying. It might seem like a cop out. But it carries its own consequences and challenges that can’t be underestimated (by those considering it or those journeying through it with others).

“We just never gave up” only works if it’s truly ‘we’.

Often, when asked the secret to a long marriage people respond “We just never gave up”. Which is undoubtedly true. Sticktoitiveness is one of the essential ingredients to longevity in anything. But it’s important to emphasise the ‘we’ in that statement. It requires BOTH people to have not given up.

The old adage applies that if only one is paddling in a two person canoe it will just go around in circles. Some divorced individuals never gave up. Some fought harder to compensate for another who didn’t fight. In the end one can’t be married alone.

A high value of marriage should be second to a high value of people.

Many people stay (or are counselled to stay) in abusive or destructive relationships because of the emphasis placed on the value or sacredness of marriage. Well might we benefit from a greater honouring of and investment in marriage – your own or those of family, friends or church community around you. Let us be champions of marriage – encouraging and supporting in anyway we can. But let that never be at the expense of the emotional or physical safety of the people in it.

Our language matters.

How you speak about divorce – in public forums (the platform at church, social media or other communications) or in casual conversations – matters to those impacted by divorce. Let’s be mindful to consider the people the statistics are referencing when we make observation of cultural trends or shift. Let’s be champions of people and places where healing and support can be sought and experienced rather than (perhaps inadvertently) communicating judgement or exclusion to people already navigating a difficult life experience.