My dentist has Austin in a bubble. Literally. All the familiar landmarks of the Texas capital are shrunken and encased in a souvenir snow globe for everyone to see. It reminds me of my life: I grew up as a pastor’s kid.
In many ways I lived in a bubble. The church members could look in on my world at any time. Everyone knew me, everyone felt free to give advice, and everyone made sure my parents knew exactly what I’d done. If you’re a clergyman or Christian leader, your kids live in that bubble, too. Come inside with me, and let me show you what it’s like to be a pastor’s child.
We all know that awkward moment at reunions or conventions: there’s someone who knows you, but you don’t remember him. He strikes up a conversation, calls you by name, and talks about things that you vaguely remember. You walk away muttering, “I should know that person.”
That was every Sunday for me, but I was too embarrassed to ask their names. It didn’t help that Dad frequently used my brother and me in sermon illustrations. Two thousand people left church every week thinking they knew me.
Maybe they did. They certainly knew all about me. Take my dating life for example. Molly was my first love. She was a vivacious cheerleader from the local Christian high school. I met her at a water-skiing party with the youth group. I asked her out the next day. When I told my mother about Molly, she wasn’t surprised. The rumor mill had filled her in before I’d returned home.
Not only did church members report on my actions, they felt free to pass judgment on them, too. My college choice ignited the surrogate parents in our church. Many felt strongly that I should attend a Christian school, but I accepted an academic scholarship from a state university instead.
The next week, one well-meaning but overzealous family handed me a cassette tape in the hallway after church. All 90 minutes were filled with their personal observations on why my decision was a poor one. They concluded by declaring that my choice was contrary to the will of God—not the best way to minister to an angst-ridden 18-year-old.
Private citizens in public life
Some parents actually feel relief when the pastor’s children are rebellious. After all, if the minister can’t raise a “good” child, then the average church member can’t be held to too high a standard. On the other hand, if the pastor has obedient children, other parents play the “why can’t you be like Johnny?” card.
The big argument in our family was whether we could wear jeans to church on Sunday night. Mom was convinced that we needed to dress nicely to show respect for the Lord. My brother and I clung to our proof text, “Man looks at the outside appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
Mom always won, but she later admitted that respect for the Lord wasn’t the only thing driving her reasoning. Other parents were using us as role models in order to win the same argument with their children.
This status followed us throughout adolescence. The rules in our house became the unwritten standard for other families. Dating age, driving privileges, curfew—no decision was made in a vacuum. The precedent set by the pastor’s family rippled throughout the church.
A very public life, hundreds of surrogate parents, and setting the standard for other kids in the church made living in the bubble exasperating. I struggled with feeling that it was all unfair. I wanted to be a normal kid for a while. I wanted to tell people what I really thought instead of being polite all the time. I wanted to run through the church halls without someone telling my dad. I wanted to make decisions about college and dating and summer plans without being the benchmark for every other teenager.
I couldn’t.
By the grace of God, I made it to adulthood without major rebellion. But at times I was a hair’s breadth away.
No snow on Austin
How does a pastor’s kid withstand the pressure of the congregation’s expectations? And how does a pastor protect his family? You can’t keep church members from peering in, but you can stop them from shaking your child’s world.
My parents did some things well to help me survive and even thrive in the bubble. From their example, here are four tactics:
1. Pray for your kids. Pray that God will grant them strength and patience to flourish in a tough environment. Pray that they will follow Jesus and not conform to legalistic demands imposed by the church. Pray about the spiritual battle in their lives.
My parents prayed fervently for my brother and me. They didn’t always know what was going on inside us, but they knew the Lord did. And they knew that his Spirit would sustain us when nothing else could.
2. Give them freedom to fail. What drives many pastor’s kids toward rebellion is the wearying burden of expectations.
Your kids are sinners, just like you and everyone else in your church. They will sin. They need to see that, in their failure, their earthly father still loves and accepts them, just like their heavenly Father.
Dad came to our aid and defense before he did damage control among the laity. We knew he cared more deeply about us than about the external appearance of his ministry.
One summer at a youth retreat in Colorado, I was caught meandering through the girls’ dorm with a female friend. It was a simple lapse of judgment on my part, but a serious offense nonetheless. No boys were allowed in the girls’ dorm. The retreat director threatened to send me home. Since he knew my father, he decided to tell Dad about it instead. Some of the youth leaders would have preferred for my parents to make a public example of me, but they refused to. They dealt with me personally and enforced some strong consequences, but that was the end of it.
They never sent me on a guilt trip, they never discussed “how it looks to everyone else,” and they never disciplined me publicly.
3. Assert authority when church members overstep their bounds. Occasionally someone will go overboard in advising, reprimanding, or disciplining your child. When this happened in our church, my father was quick to step in. He didn’t show favoritism toward his kids, but he was willing to defend us when necessary.
When the overzealous couple I mentioned before questioned my college choice, my father and mother intervened by asking them not to correspond with me regarding that issue. Mom made it clear that my school choice was our family’s affair and would be made in private.
As a teenager, I would have felt disrespectful being that assertive. But my parents correctly enforced the boundary between our family and our church. Their decisive action allowed me to think, pray, and live out my decisions without undue pressure.
4. Direct your children toward other sources of discipleship. My parents were spiritual leaders. An entire church looked to them for guidance. I was keenly aware of their status, and to be honest, I didn’t want to admit my spiritual doubts, faults, and weaknesses to them. But I had to go somewhere for accountability, guidance, and counsel. I turned to a youth group leader named Andy.
Andy was a godly, 30-year-old machinist who had an uncanny ability to connect with youth. Maybe it was because he had that older brother persona. He hunted, fished, drove a rusty old Blazer with big tires, and listened to the Rolling Stones.
Andy understood my situation. And he knew that true discipleship meant not just giving advice, but involving me in his world. He was just as excited over showing me how to skin a rattlesnake as he was explaining the Bible. He grieved with me through my first break-up, trained me in evangelism, helped me pray through my college decision, and even showed me how to grow tomatoes.
Letting Andy disciple me wasn’t easy for my parents; it often meant he knew things about me that they didn’t. But my relationship with him was vital to my spiritual growth. To this day Andy is a partner in ministry and a faithful friend.
Pastors often ask me, “How did you make it? How can I help my kids make it?” Ultimately, it’s all about the grace of God, but I’m also convinced that my parents’ application of these four principles played a big part in the process.
Robert Thune works for Campus Crusade for Christ in Austin, Texas. BobT@TexasCru.com
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