To preachers’ kids, with love. Remember the voice of Lulu in that classic 1967 movie with Sidney Poitier?

Not long ago, I came across an article written by Barnabas Piper. His father, John Piper, is a best-selling author in evangelical Christian circles and former pastor of a large congregation, Bethlehem Baptist, in Minneapolis. Barnabas has now written a book of his own about his experiences growing up as a PK (pastor’s kid).

Being a pastor is a calling from God, not a job that’s chosen. God lays it on the heart of individuals to proclaim the Gospel, to work in His church as a pastor. He equips them to serve. However, that calling casts a long and intimidating shadow over the pastor’s family. The challenges of being the pastor’s kid cannot be overstated.

For starters, there’s scrutiny. Church members almost always have the best intentions. But it includes a whole lot of noticing. Everything is noticed. What the preacher’s kids are wearing. If they’re misbehaving at the grocery store. If they’re talking out loud or wiggling around during the worship service. If they run a red light. That they’re standing in line for an R-rated movie. Who they are dating and who they broke up with. All this noticing piles on the pressure. It can leave little room for mistakes to say nothing of bad choices.

Then there’s the matter of expectations. As a pastor there are expectations from the congregation, and there should be. There are even greater expectations from God. The pastor’s kid also encounters expectations. He is expected to behave better, profess his faith better, lead better and set the best example. Overlook the fact he is by nature sinful just like any other kid, hovering expectations look for someone a bit more angelic. Yet that can have devastating effects on their identities. And their souls, as well.

Perhaps they will be people-pleasers. Or rebel against all the expectations. They may hide their true selves, their questions and fears, their doubts and frustrations, with a moral facade just to survive. They know all the right answers. They know what they ought to believe. After all, they’ve heard countless sermons, learned the foundations of faith in Christian education classes, been a part of theological discussions in family devotions and simply everyday life around the house. But answers and belief are not the same thing.

One is assent or mere superficial resemblance. The other is a life that has been changed by the power of the Gospel from the inside out. If the pastor’s kid is expected to be “just so,” where will it be safe to go with questions and confusion? The church, where he ought to feel safest, becomes off limits to his struggles. Would it reflect badly on his father’s ministry?

As a dad of twin 5-year-olds, I know they are not preacher’s kids by choice. I pray that I remember to be their parent first before I’m their pastor. I pray that I take the time to talk with them and not merely preach at them. I pray that I can protect them against the unrealistic and unnecessary expectations heaped on them.

Furthermore, I pray that our home is always a haven of grace and consistency where faults are confessed and forgiveness granted. I pray that I take time to have fun with them, whether it’s Barbies or Legos, hiking or biking.

Finally, I pray for patience with them and to be present alongside them as they sort through the pressures and expectations to find their identity and faith in Christ. More than anything, they will need my love, God’s grace, and constant prayers as they grow in trusting the One to whom they belong. The One who paid the ultimate price on the cross to remove the confusion and doubts of being good enough.

I pray they have an understanding pastor-dad like I had.