FREE?DOM

WHAT DO KATY PERRY, THE JONAS BROTHERS AND POPS have in common?

Well, Katy’s real name isn’t Perry and Pops is not my real name (except to my Grand-Kids). But as far as I know the Jonas Brothers use their actual names, so it’s not that.

Fun story: I’m a big fan of the app for ordering from a certain fast food place. I registered for the site using my Google account so my name shows up on my orders at this place as “Pops”. The other day I was picking up an order there. The young lady delivering my order asked, “Is your name Pops or are you a Pops?”

I told this story to one of the Grand-Girls and she replied “Both!” Well, to her anyway.

Back to the puzzler—what do we all have a common? At least two of the three are nominal musicians? Maybe, but not the answer we’re looking for.

We’re all P.K.s! Preacher’s Kids.

There is a P.K. stereotype. Maybe two, or more:

“First, there’s the model child, who lives by the rulebook and follows in the footsteps of his or her minister parent. In many churches, this is an expectation as much as it is a stereotype. Yet perhaps the dominant stereotype of the pastor’s kid is the prodigal—the wayward child, the rebel who has fallen away from the faith, the backslidden who’d rather strike out on their own than live in the shadow of the steeple.” —barna.com

This is the kid who may or may not have released a flotilla of rubber duckies across the baptismal waters during a service, or added a touch of Boone’s Farm to the communion grape juice, etc. Then other days he might be found mowing the yard of widowed member of the flock.

From my experience the P.K. explanation from Barna, quoted above, isn’t an either/or proposition. It is possible to drift and hover between the two extremes over a lifetime.

Here’s an example: I wasn’t hell-bent on being a full-blown prodigal but I do remember the first time I exercised my FREEDOM to NOT go to church. In our house, we went to church. Twice on Sunday, Wednesday nights, revivals, January Bible Study Week, Vacation Bible School, and any other time the proverbial doors were open. I never saw the end of an episode of “Lassie”, or “The Wizard of Oz” because they aired on Sunday nights.

But when I set off for college, I was free; free to not go to church, for the first time in my life. I took full advantage of my newfound freedom.

Late one Sunday afternoon in the first week or so of my first semester, a couple of guys stopped by to say they were going to a local church for a cookout and “co-ed fellowship”. “Want to go?”

“No thanks. I’m not really going to church right now—especially on Sunday night. I’m free to NOT go, you know.”

They left. I sat there alone, solitary, imagining a bunch of students having a great time together. I had literally become a slave to my definition of freedom. Why couldn’t I understand that actually being free meant I could choose; all by myself. I guess in a way I did: I chose loneliness that night.

All of this came to mind the other day when I heard someone explaining that they were FREE—No one could make them take a COVID vaccination! And I wondered, maybe deep down inside if they would really like to have that vaccine. Secretly, maybe subconsciously, they would like to have the sense of relief and safety it brings. But, maybe they’ve become a slave to their freedom to say, Nope.

Before I wrap up this exploration of the Preacher Kid persona… Could it be that there’s a third stereotype? A rescuer, teacher, good communicator? This version is immortalized in a song. A song from the good-ol’ 60s, by Dusty Springfield:

The only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes, he was, he was, ooh, yes, he was

He was the sweet-talkin' son of a preacher man

I suggested to my Amazing-Missus that maybe this could be her theme song. She, in turn, had a suggestion or two for me.