I was a Preacher’s Kid.
Now I’m a Preacher’s grown kid, and a preacher myself. I plan to have a couple Preacher’s Kids of my own someday. If I can’t have my own, I’ll adopt a couple of Preacher’s Kids. Preacher’s Kids are the cutest.
I wasn’t one of those whiny rebellious Preacher’s Kids as a teenager, but I wasn’t Reverend Jr. either. I just tried to be real with people and I was so darn handsome and charming that people expressed surprise that my Dad was a Pastor. I liked that. It’s like I was blindsiding them with Jesus. People didn’t expect such a totally awesome guy to be in league with Jesus. They expected me to be either completely socially inept, or a major screwup.
I probably didn’t rebel because my parents weren’t raving fundamentalists. They had smart rules in the home that were easy to respect and they respected their sons.
I was reminded about being a Preacher’s Kid when that balloon boy gave his confused response in his interview to his parents, “You told me we did it for the show.” It reminded me that being a Preacher’s Kid was a lot like reality TV.
But really, being a Preacher’s Kid was totally awesome, and I’ll never understand why any kids would want to rebel against that life.
Four Reasons That Being a Preacher’s Kid Ruled
Church People are Amazing…
Amazing…ly entertaining. Even an eight-year-old can be amused at the absurd combination of people God has assembled to do His bidding. It’s like Gilligan’s Island. And the church committee is the most entertaining of all, because they take care of the truly important things God needs done. Come hell or high water, or bickering like schoolgirls, those people will decide what color the foyer should be painted. And with God as my witness, it won’t be that awful yellow that Steve wants.
The whole church was my accountability partner. Little Matthew couldn’t take two steps without Mom and Dad knowing about it. As a college kid looking for a fun night, you better believe that the one lousy house party I went to* where some smoldering cigars left in the planters filled with Miracle Gro caused the deck to burn down, my parents heard about it…because it was one of the Elder’s kids who threw the party and then learned how to build a deck.
*This is not to say that I only went to one house party. It was just the only one where a deck burned down.
I’ve told you before my Dad pastored a [difficult] church. Well, the church itself wasn’t difficult. The building was quite lovely. The people inside seemed to be the main problem. He endured a lot of criticism on a regular (read: weekly) basis for a few years, until the sources of criticism left. I appreciated the fact that my Dad had such great accountability partners. If he started to believe he was ever worth anything, his head would’ve gotten way too big. It drove me to defend my Dad…until we got in a personal fight, and then I had extra ammunition.
You’re a Celebrity!
Come on, this was the best. Being the Preacher’s Kid, you felt like the center of attention all the time. Lots of Preacher’s Kids whine about living in a ‘glass house.’ I think living in a real glass house would be awesome! Being the Preacher’s Kid is like being a celebrity, just without the money. That’s win-win! Not only do you get to experience the glamorous lifestyle of a Paparazzi hunted star, but you get it without the corruption of lots of money, big houses, expensive clothes, new cars, restaurant trips, big Christmases, name brand cereal, allowances, and all the other stuff Satan doesn’t want you to have.
What else was awesome about being a Preacher’s Kid? Were your Preacher’s Kids screw ups or little junior pastors who erred on the side of ‘creepy?’