A Matter of Trust

My husband was sober and about to return to his original calling. But the demands of that calling were part of what got him in trouble to begin with

- DEBORAH BEDDOE Poulsbo, Washington

MORNING LIGHT-FILLED THE house. I wandered distracted-ly to the kitchen for more coffee. It was Sunday. My husband, Dave, had already left for church, taking the kids with him. For once, I only had to get myself out the door.

I took my time with the coffee. I read my book. I lingered in the shower. I brushed my teeth extra carefully. My reflection in the bathroom mirror stared back at me: You’re stalling.

I hated to admit it, but I didn’t want to go to church. Not because I didn’t love our congregation of about 100 in the heart of town. Everyone there was compassionate, generous and kind.

I didn’t want to go this morning because, three months earlier, Dave had become the associate pastor there. We’d been attending Restore Church for a long time before that, and Dave was an elder when the pastor, Jim Walter, asked him to come on staff. It was a dream position for Dave. You’d think I’d want to be there to support him. Certainly it would look terrible if the pastor’s wife didn’t show up.

The problem was, this wasn’t Dave’s first job in the clergy. Six years earlier, he’d been fired from his last ministry position—director at a nearby Christian camp—when camp leaders discovered he’d been using the company credit card to buy prescription pain pills. By that point, Dave had been addicted to opioids for 15 years.

Losing that job was Dave’s wake-up call. He confessed everything, quit using drugs and committed himself to recovery. He’d been sober ever since.

Gradually we rebuilt our life together. Dave found work outside the church. I stopped being a stay-at-home mom (