leaders collective marriage retreat.

We’d been home from our road trip just over a week before it was time to pack up and leave for a marriage retreat in Charleston.

I’ll be honest: that reentry week after our grand adventure hit hard.

I planned for it, expected it, but there’s still just an immense amount of reality to face after three glorious weeks of disconnect. I felt myself pulled under the current all week, knowing vaguely I ought to be thankful and re-energized, but not sure how to deal with the pressures of my real life, just the way it is.

So pretty much the last thing I wanted to do was think about organizing the kids’ school week, cleaning up our house, and planning for another trip.

However, we’ve had this commitment on the calendar. It was important.

 

 

David has been apart of a program for pastors that lasts two years, and meets for mentoring, accountability, and training.

Each group, or cohort, consists of six pastors across denominations. They meet four times a year for several-day intensives, each intensive with a different theme. The aim of the program is to come alongside pastors with help and encouragement and counseling, and also to foster friendships in the cohort that will last beyond the program. The wives are invited to two of the eight intensives.

We knew this was a big commitment going in, but the friends that referred David promised us that was worth every sacrifice, and our church generously agreed to it.

So this week’s marriage and rest retreat was the culmination of two years of friendship, work, and growth.

I’ve heard dozens of stories from David over the past two years, seen the impact it’s had on him, and met with this group in February in Raleigh for a beautiful three days. I knew it was going to be a wonderful week, but my to-do list stretched long and my burdens weighed heavy, and I’ll admit to thinking, We just don’t have time for this.

But somehow we packed up, organized the week, and got out the door on Monday, with lots of help from David’s folks, who moved into our house to keep our kids for three nights.

 

 

And, as always, just driving into downtown Charleston, stopping for a cortado and a scone at Revelator Coffee on King Street, a weight seems to lift.

It’s a far cry from the wild, red rocks of Moab, but the Holy City is a wonder unto itself, the sticky-salt smell of the ocean, the cobbled streets, the energy of college students and bustling restaurants and the layers of history.

Charleston is one of our happy places, and it was fun to experience it through the eyes of friends, some of whom had never visited.

We all stayed at the French Quarter Inn, which is the nicest hotel I’ve stayed in. From the moment we arrived and were greeted with a glass of champagne and a gift bag, to the breakfast delivered to our room each morning, the entire experience was dreamy.

 

 

The leader of this ministry to pastors, Elliot, has a vision of not only providing pastors with help and training, but providing them with rest. The way he does it is to serve the group lavishly every time they meet together. Hotel and housing arrangements are made, meetings and down time are scheduled, restaurants are chosen — even items on the menu pre-ordered and passed around the table, family-style. There is nothing to do but to partake.

Elliot understands the power of this because he was a pastor himself for years, and he knows that pastors are always making decisions. All day. People are looking to them to serve and problem-solve and fix and inspire. This is good and right. It’s the calling of the pastor.

But Elliot believes that pastors also need to be served in order to rest and heal and be able to endure in the marathon of a ministry life. So he provides that rest when they’re together. He makes all of the decisions for the group, so they’re free to be themselves. He leads so that they don’t have to.

In short, he is a pastor to pastors.

Last week’s retreat was no different, and since the emphasis was self-care for each couple, there was more free time.

We had two dinners as a group and two meetings as a group, but the rest of the time was unscheduled. Each couple was given spending money for the week, and Elliot sent us lists of restaurants and sight-seeing options, but left it up to us to spend the time as we wanted.

We were simply instructed to rest.

 

 

And so we did.

We discussed chapter one of The Marriage Builder, by Larry Crabb, over drinks at a rooftop bar.

[I do not recommend the above memoir for a relaxing marriage getaway, but I was speed-reading it for book club!]

We read novels and took long walks and discovered a lovely out-of-the-way restaurant with a wraparound porch that reminded us of our honeymoon in Barbados.

We also wanted some time with the other couples, who’ve become our friends over the past two years. The evening dinners were loud and boisterous as we passed around bottles of wine, exchanged stories, tasted plate after plate of delicious food, and laughed a lot.

The two of us made sure to snag lunch with Elliot and Kacey, and got to make a new memory enjoying one of our favorite Charleston restaurants, Husk, together.

 

 

About them I just want to say, “I want to be like that one day.”

I want to do what the apostle Paul instructs and follow them as they follow Christ,

I’ve only spent two retreats with them — one was in their home in North Carolina — but their impact on my life reaches far past the hours we’ve been together. This is a couple who is real and honest about their sin, has been shaped by the Holy Spirit in suffering, has learned to endure and look to the future with joy, and knows how to really see people.

Sometimes the kindness I find in their eyes feels like too much to bear.

I’ve learned that it’s hard to receive this kind of lavish treatment. It means letting go of control, and I’m not good at that.

Apparently I’m not alone. One of the other pastor’s wives leaned over to me after we checked into the hotel on Monday and said, “I struggle knowing that this was the hotel chosen for us, knowing how much it costs.” And I saw with new eyes, as I responded to her, “You know what? I think that’s kind of the point.”

It is extravagant.

It is hard to accept. It’s supposed to be. And that hardness should tell us something about ourselves as leaders. We’re the ones who serve. It’s part of our identity. It’s very humbling to be served, to be lavished with kindness and beauty and fun that we’ve done nothing to deserve.

You know what getting to know Elliot and Kacey and receiving their unique ministry has done for me?

It’s shown me the love of Christ.

His love is lavish. It’s disproportionate. It’s undeserved. He loves to serve.

I’ve learned to let my guard down. I’ve finally looked up and met their eyes and believed that Jesus, too, sees me, and looks at me like that. He loves and accepts me, just the way I am. I’m not holding back, bracing for Him to “see the real me” and then reject me.

This endless cycle of performance and shame is a wall I put up to protect myself.

How can I possibly ever give to anyone with authenticity that which I haven’t first received?

How can I tell people about the deep, deep love of Jesus if I’m not sitting at His feet, reveling in it myself?

And how can we as Christian leaders keep giving of ourselves if we’re not also receiving from Christ, if we’re not building rhythms of rest and friendship and allowing others to serve us?

 

 

I feel astounded and grateful because the marriage retreat scheduled for a week after we returned from our road trip felt like a personal gift from the Lord. I didn’t know I needed it, but He knew, and He provided.

He saw my fretful spirit and drew me quietly away to the seaside to pray and laugh and rest for a few days.

David and I spent luxurious, unhurried hours together. Sure, we’d been together for three weeks on our trip, but this was different. It was a chance to not just be a great team leading the pack on a quest across America, but to be a couple who’s very much in love.

Elliot asked each us to read Psalm 127 in the morning and answer a few questions about it together.

Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. It’s always been a beautiful Psalm to me, but I saw it with new eyes last week as we read on.

It is in vain that you rise up early
and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
for He gives to His beloved sleep.

We talked and I looked back on our reentry week and saw the ways I was eating the bread of anxious toil. My stress has little to do with scheduling and to-do lists and everything to do with my heart.

I am eating the bread of anxious toil and it’s wearing me out before I even begin.

I surrendered that to the Lord last week, this striving, this need to do it all right and obsessively problem-solve and rearrange logistics in my life to feel better about myself. I am not in control.

He gives to His beloved sleep.

I choose to go home believing that I am His beloved, right now. That His yolk is easy and His burden is light.

Having been served so well, having rested, I’m inspired to look around and serve others, to make them feel loved like I’ve been loved. I look with gratitude to the people in our life and church who serve us, and I’m reminded how important it is to let them do it. I think again of Paul, who knew deep down to his core when he said to the Romans, “You have as much to give to me as I do to you.”

I feel excited for David and this group of pastors, who plan to continue to meet together once or twice a year for fellowship.

I’m very, very grateful for this gift.

 

 

…remember those moments in our lives when Christ came to us in countless disguises through people who one way or another strengthened us, comforted us, healed us, judged us, by the power of Christ alive within them.

Frederich Buechner