Preache “So, you’re a preacher’s kid?”
H I G H E R T H I N G S __ 10
“Yeah, story of my life. I’m a P.K.” It’s the stigma I’ve had to live with my whole life. I’m the kid who gets the gold star every year for perfect Sunday School attendance. I’m the kid who gets mentioned as a sermon illustration. When I was a kid, no one told "colorful" jokes around me. Don’t get me wrong! I love my dad and I know he’s doing the work of the Lord, but sometimes I wish his vocation was not so public. Does he really have to wear his collar in the restaurant? It’s embarrassing when all eyes are drawn to the pastor’s family. Sometimes I wish my dad had a different job that is more behind the scenes- like being an accountant, or a postal worker, or even a plumber. No one ever says,“So, you’re a plumber’s kid?”Why must my identity be so much attached to my father’s profession? These were some of the feelings I had growing up as the firstborn son of a parish pastor. It’s not that I didn’t respect what my dad was called to do, but sometimes I wished I could have been more like everyone else. For some odd reason, people thought I was supposed to be more holy than all the other kids. When friends were around me they would be careful what to say. I guess they thought I couldn’t relate to the issues in their lives.“We wouldn’t want to offend the ears of the church boy,” is what I sensed loud and clear. I sometimes felt somewhat of an oddball in the group, the “goody-two-shoes.”You could say I was sort of ‘out of the loop’ when it came to details of my friends lives. Yet, being a “PK” has not been an entirely bad experience. In fact, as I look back, it was good for me. It has taught me more than anything else in my life what it
