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Switched, By Jerika Perthuis


Standing next to Kevin as he told the entire congregation he was resigning from the church, because of an extramarital affair, turned the dagger in my heart clockwise. The layered nature of this entire event seems supernatural. No one had any idea what was happening beforehand, members and friends eagerly met us, as they did every Sunday morning, eager and energized to worship. Maintaining my composure as I put one foot in front of the other is not for me, or my friends, or the strangers in the sanctuary. I only hold my entire self together for Kevin. To be so broken, to fail as deep as all the oceans combined, and then walk through all of the shattered glass, to start over, with integrity, is an action I am still very much in awe of. 

 

In the moment, I could only feel the shock in the room; I kept my eyes on Kevin the entire time. I, in no way, wanted the memory of everyone’s face to have a permanent fixture in my mind or memory. Standing up in front of the church meant surrendering the last vulnerable part of me. I often made a joke about how I did not go to school to be a Pastor's Wife, this joke runs parallel to truth. I pointedly pushed back on any type of perceived facade or expected mantle, mainly, because I did not think I was in any way more important than anyone else.

 

As Kevin speaks I realize there is no longer hold any sense of control. My life had ended; even though I had been shoveling sand back into a broken bucket, over and over again, believing I could be the difference. Kevin had so ingratiated lies into our relationship standing beside him as he spoke meant we were closer to some ideal of truthful integrity. I would of never left him up there alone. He was so broken. He tells me later that he would of killed himself if I had chosen to leave him. I knew already. Even now, the depth of brokenness in his life hurts my heart. Bearing the roof with him over our relationship, at many times, seems unfair and that there is no real but or even so or generalized statement that makes any of this more palatable.


Even stranger, my concept of bearing a roof had first been introduced to me, through Kevin, when he married couples. I listened, as each different bride and groom stood before us, as Kevin preached, over and over, that Love Bears all things, Believes all Things, Hopes all Things, Endures all Things, 1 Corinthians 13:7 (ESV) My hope for Kevin now, as it was then, is that he would find himself worthy to be loved. I never waiver in my understanding that Kevin desperately needs to be loved as Jesus loves and my part in this vacuum of calamity is to freely give love, as it has so freely been given to me.

 

I don’t face everyone to be tough or to be a leader that Sunday; but I do know by default how my actions will influence those around me. I know that my effort, to just be present, in and outside of our church is an invitation for others to hold me up. I am not the first wife or pastor’s wife with an adulterous husband. I don’t think I will be the last. At my core, I want whoever is connected to me, at whatever level, to know that what has happened to me is my story and I am unashamed of my completely shattered life. And if any of those people are in the same place I am, shattered and stripped, they will know we will be under the same shattered roof. I refuse to pretend or save face. I have nothing to give, my only energy is raw and vulnerable, my hope is then, as it is now, is for any one else to find reprieve in this position. 

 

I did not stay with Kevin because of our children or because I thought he would take his life, I simply thought I would want him to care for me, in the same manner, if our stories were switched.

 

If you are someone in your life is feeling suicidal, immediate help is available, call to speak with a counselor now at 800-273-8255

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

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