Thoughts on Growing Up a Pastor's Kid

Some times people will ask me, "What do your parents do?", and now that I'm old enough to appreciate what they do I proudly say "Oh, they are pastors!"
Each time I get different responses ranging from "Oh. (long pause) That's nice." or "Wonderful, what church?" But the popular response from my peers is always along the lines of "That must have sucked growing up!"

So I got to thinking about growing up as a pastor's kid or "PK" and what I truly thought of it all. Ya know, I didn't choose to be a pastor's kid,and if you would have asked me when I was a teenager, I wanted the opposite in life. But, thank heavens The Lord did, and that my parents laid down their life to his calling. As a teenager I HATED it (if I'm being honest, I actually hated everything in life. It was like PMS on steroids. Anyone with teenage daughters would understand.) I hated spending hours at church. I hated being there for every single event that was held. I hated how everything I did was some how magically reported back to my parents. I wanted so badly to do what all the "cool kids" were doing; like going to parties and having boyfriends. But it was all the grace of God over my life (even the tattle tails!) That church building became my first home and all the members became family. My best and worst memories lie in that building and all it's events. I discovered the quietest sleeping spots and where to snag snacks in between meetings. I learned that I don't have too many memories with the cousins I'm actually related to but that other leaders kids were (and still are) family. I met the Holy Spirit in that building, and probably have drenched the carpet in tears and snot at some point.
I am a part of a blended family, that now by the grace of God doesn't feel so blended. It just feels like family. But growing up I would house hop from my mom and dad's (step) to my dad's (biological) house. Their beliefs differed tremendously. It was truly the death of me. I got to taste the "freedom" of doing just about whatever I wanted. Then would come back home to more "church, rules and restrictions". So I grew up being able to taste the world without ever experiencing it's consequences and I was hooked. For me it was like eating cake and never gaining weight or loosing energy. On one side of life I was intoxicated with all the bright shinny lies the world had to offer. On the other I was curious about The Lord. I had gotten glimpses of him on those long nights at church that I usually dreaded before my arrival. It was an internal battle that I fought for the majority (if not all) of my teenage years. I never found myself feeling truly comfortable in either realm. When I was at church I would crave the world, and when I was in the world I would crave the peace and security I only found in The Lord. Oh I wanted the world, and I wanted it badly! But watching my parent's lives, I knew I would never be fully satisfied with it. They had peace in storms, the ability to stand for something, work things out, they had favor. Even when things were rocky they stayed grounded.
Long story made short; I went crazy. Me and momma call it my temporary moment of insanity nowadays. I know people say pastor's kids are the worst, but I know they are like everyone else. They have fallen short of the glory of God and are in need of a savior. They have issues and temptations. Even though they've grown up hearing about a savior their hearts have to turn to him as Lord.
In those years of craziness my heart looks back with such a thankfulness towards the church. I remember in my worst moments by far, there were extra sets of mothers and fathers who actually cared about my well being and my soul. There may have been people who were messy, but if I'm honest I don't remember them or what they said. But what I do remember were people who loved me, prayed for me, and talked to me with sincere hearts. My momma once told me "If heaven is real and hell is real; then I'm not gonna stop fighting for your soul." My heart has such a high honor for the church body I consider family. Because when my parent's were waging spiritual warfare for my soul, I know they had a whole church family in the trenches with them. I honestly don't know how I would have made it back to the house of God without them or my parents. The same things I hated about my parents in high school, are the same things I am so thankful for now. They never lowered the standard of what a believer should be to accommodate me in my mess. They kept the standard high and prayed that one day by the grace of God I would reach it, and become all The Lord called me to be.
So growing up in the mist of it all I hated being a pastor's kid. But looking at it now I know the only reason my life has fruit is because my parents faithfully planted seeds, my church family constantly watered, and The Lord brought an increase. Growing up in the church was filled with grace, mercy, and love. Not from all parties, but from the ones that mattered. It was redemptive. Was it always perfect? No, but it shaped me into the woman I am. I don't know where I would be if my parents wouldn't have laid their lives down for The Lord taking care of a bunch of sheep I couldn't stand; that now I've grown to love. It built my foundation and for that I am truly grateful. Grateful for when they fought, when it would have been easier to give in. Grateful for their openness, because it shed light and brought healing. Grateful for the woman they pushed me to be. Grateful that they surrounded me with the things of God, the word, the house of God, and men and women of God.
And my final thoughts on it all? I am forever grateful for the seeds that were planted in me as a child in the house of God. Those same seeds that seemed as if they had died as a teenager. But finally started to bloom and flourish into adulthood.