Leadership Journal

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.

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 ...