Our Own Propaganda: Wives Must Not Believe It

One of my great hates—yes, I know, I have so many. Like Cardinal Newman, I am a 'great hater,' though while his focused on great personalities, mine focus more on disco music, American "sports,"and pastors of the arts/offshore investments/whatever is the latest trendy thing we are all supposed to be into lest the kingdom die.

Anyway, one of my great hates is wives who believe their husbands' own propaganda about themselves. Of all the many earthly blessings the Lord has given me, from friendship with Derek Thomas (for my sanctification) to that with Paul Levy (just have to cling blindly to Rom. 8:28 on that one), having a normal, down-to-earth wife is surely the greatest. 

Indeed, when asked by a student spouse the other week how she kept up with reading all that I read so that she could support me in my work, my wife's response (worthy of Newman himself) was 'Read what he's reading? Lovey, I don't even bother to read what he's writing!' In fact, she famously claims never to have read anything I have ever written. Why should she? She lives with me and knows what I am really like; and her interest in my job is primarily that of 'does it pay the mortgage and enable him to be a decent husband?' not 'is he changing the world or hanging with the right people?'

For the preacher, a good wife is a great asset. My infamous (at least in the confines of the Trueman family)'pole dancer' comment, while preaching on 1 Corinthians 1, was heard by my wife. It earned me an ear-bashing that fundamentally changed how I thought about what is and is not appropriate to say when preaching to a congregation of broad age range. Yes, the word touches all areas of human life; but there are ways of expressing that truth appropriately in different contexts. I learned as much about that from a twenty minute lecture from Mrs T as I did from any number of turgidly written books on contextualisation.

She is also good at encouraging me and protecting me where necessary. At 4' 9" tall, she has a low centre of gravity, and so is particularly effective in hand-to-hand unarmed combat. But she also knows when an encouraging word is needed, or when I need to be told to improve in some area or other. What she never does is tell me I am brilliant (that would, after all, be a lie) or have no room for improvement. I pity the preacher whose wife does not encourage him; but I pity more the preacher whose wife tells him he is as good as he should be.

Talking to a colleague the other day, he told me how, on one Sunday, he preached an absolute stinker of a sermon. After the service, he said to his wife, 'That was the worst sermon I have ever preached.' 'No it wasn't.' she replied 'Be encouraged. I have heard you preach much worse.' That is a truly great preacher's wife for you.

And do not worry. My wife will not be offended or embarrassed by what I say about her here. After all, she will not be reading it.