It wasn't easy for me to write what you're about to read. I struggled with how every word would be taken. I fought with myself every time I sat in front of my laptop, because as much as I tried to hold back; the story poured itself onto the screen like it needed to be there. I have very few regrets in life and I honestly think that's because of who I am and what the life I was born into has taught me. In no way did I want what was said and read to sound bitter, malicious or even ungrateful. I have learned so much about the human condition and the way people think than I ever could have learned in a classroom, and it's all because of who I am.
I have come to realize that the Preacher's Kid is an extraordinary individual that has either been born or thrust into a unique character shaping situation. Those that continue in it, becoming Pastors wives, ministerial assistants or Senior Pastors themselves are without a doubt the strongest and most selfless people you will ever meet. They have chosen to continue in a rewarding tradition and are to be commended.
All the same, there are those that walk away from this life scarred emotionally, angry and determined to never look back. I get it. I understand the way they feel. I think when/if a PK strays, we all should be able to relate on some level. I think we, who remain must pray that they find a peace in their heart that allows them to once again experience the love that they've come to know as a love that only Christ can bring. What I've seen and experienced has made me slightly more tolerant, even though I'm still more than cautious about those that I allow to infiltrate my inner circle. I do this because not everyone understands our life and because no matter what I do, I am branded by the title I was born with not the ones I've earned.
I've grown grateful for my parents because I know that they have raised extraordinary exceptional Christians. No, despite what you've come to believe to be true, all Preacher's Kids don't end up as tattoo artist listening to death metal far away from home, forsaking the core values taught to them. At my parents 30th Wedding Anniversary one of the speakers applauded them for raising "three wonderful children of whom they could be proud. None of whom were a menace to society." With a raised eyebrow we simultaneously erupted in laughter that echoed in the silent banquet hall. Later that evening, every time we passed each other in the hallway one of us would say, "I hope you're not being a menace to society." We didn't understand what the speaker meant but we still think it's funny.
We're all still living witnesses of Christ love and very active in the church. My brother who plays four instruments, is the church's Music Minister and has quite an Olsteenesque anointing (family joke). My sister who is an amazing vocalist has chosen the organizational aspect of ministry and handles legal and office affairs, bottom line she doesn't like the limelight. (smiles) I guess I was the one that was really expected to become the actual preacher. I'd been ordained and had done some preaching both nationally and internationally. I even Pastored the Youth Ministry at one point, shout out to my young people who daily gathered around my desk while we ate pizza and talked about everything and special "I see you" to the ones that found me on Hi5, Facebook and Twitter even though I used an alias and never used an actual photo of myself on any of those sites. But as far as the Pastoring thing goes, well...
The truth of the matter is I started to feel tired. I was looking at people differently and becoming overly cautious of their intentions and to me everything they said and did had motive.
These writings started as a journey for me personally. I had no real agenda, or intent. It was just me putting thoughts to paper, trying to make sense of how I felt. Maybe it was my attempt at therapy. A way to release years of unanswered questions in my mind, and say the things that I'd never said. A lot of people that know me assume that whatever is in my heart comes out of my mouth. Not entirely true. I've been conditioned and subliminally taught to keep secrets, guard information and evade questions. But I've also been taught not to be upfront with people, be transparent and not to lie. So there was a lot left unsaid.
But as I wrote, as my recollections became more vivid I realized had a story to tell. I had had experiences that regular people would never understand. To tell this story, I knew I had to find those that were willing to share. Do you think that was easy?
No!
Like I said, I knew I wasn't alone, but I also knew that to tell what you've experienced, what you've learned, would require some people to say things that they had never even said to their Parents. Even though I say this is my story, there were some tales that would have to reflect the anger, disappointment and displacement that many of us feel growing up, so I couldn't do it alone. I tried my local group of PK's and I realized quickly what I would be faced with. Mind you everything I had planned to write, we had at one point or the other spoken of privately, but to put it out there for everyone to see just seemed off limits. So I sought elsewhere. And I thank those of you inspired to share. In hearing what you had to say I was moved and inspired. I cried, laughed and gained some friends in the process. I can't complain.
I raise my glass to my long lost sisters and brothers. I call you that because no matter how many oceans separate us, and no matter what language we speak, even if we never see each other in this life, we've been bonded. We all share that Levitical bloodline. We're the children of the Priest of the Tabernacle. We're the Preacher's Kids and it's ok that the thought crosses our mind that.....
I Love Jesus, But I Need To Get Out Of This Church
No comments:
Post a Comment