An invitation to my fellow PKs

When I was growing up in Singapore, I had only one fellow Korean friend who was also a pastor’s daughter like me. My father had founded a Mandarin-speaking church that drew native Chinese-Singaporeans, while her father led a Korean church that gathered Korean immigrants. Naturally, we became best friends. We sweated over hopscotch and spicy fish balls after church, and committed gluttony at sleepover feasts on the weekends.

We also bickered a lot. I still remember one dispute we had when we were about 10 years old. Like Jesus’ disciples discussing who’s greater in heaven, we two pastors’ daughters hotly debated whose daddy was the greater servant of God. We compared number of church members, deacons and elders, preaching methods, and level of education. So proud we were of our own father and his work that the debate was never resolved.

Fast-forward 15 years, and I’m attending college in Los Angeles and she’s a recent graduate from Michigan. Our individual paths had diverted but then converged again on Facebook. And what she confessed to me then was shocking: “I never tell my friends that my dad’s a pastor. I’d rather they never know. I still go to church and follow Jesus, but I’m ashamed to be a PK.”

Despite my initial surprise and disappointment, I understood. I’ve reaped many, many blessings as a PK, but I’ve also faced seasons in which I’ve bitterly wailed at God for “cursing” me into a pastor’s family. You see, there is a lot going on within a pastor’s family that the average church congregant may not ever realize.

During the five years I suffered from anorexia, my father insisted I still attend church. I loitered outside the church building and crept in through the back to avoid people looking at me. I loathed the attention that I thought I could have avoided if I was not my father’s daughter. I lowered my head in shame when my father mentioned me from the pulpit. People I’ve never met from all over the world knew my name and my condition. I dissolved into guilt when I heard the loudening criticisms and twisted lies against my parents by people who used me as an excuse to attack the church. I felt like a double-sinner: one for having anorexia, another for tarnishing my dad’s ministry and God’s name because of my failure to recover quickly.

That’s why when the Mark Driscoll incident and Rick Warren’s son’s suicide happened, the first thought that sprang into my mind was: What are their children thinking? Every pastor faces public criticism on stage and private contradictions at home. The bigger the name, the louder the naysayers; the greater the calling, the larger the conflicts— and these things deeply affect the pastor’s family as well. Such are the hidden battles within the household of pastors—and if the church body understood this spiritual war just a little bit, perhaps their prayers for their leaders might expand and sharpen.

So I’m calling out to my fellow PKs. I’d like some help from WORLD readers in writing a story that hopefully reflects the complex dynamics that take place within a pastor’s family during times of persecution, suffering, and trials. Are there any fellow PKs out there who are willing to share their stories? I’d love to hear from you. Your varied experience can add much depth and insight. Please email me at slee@wng.org and introduce yourself.