Rising Son of a Preacher Man

Many of you may not know this, but I’m the son of a Pentecostal Church Minister.

Growing up as a Pastor’s kid was pretty challenging back in those days; being the child of a Minister is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy…unless it’s my Mother-in-law!

I never wanted to be a PK; if I had a choice, I’d prefer to be a child of a crack head!

(At least people on crack are entertaining.)

If you’re a child of some low life on crack, the expectations are low; You could be looking for food out of a garbage can…it can’t be worse than being a druggie!
Your old man’s sucking dick for crack; you can’t do worse than that!

I lived a very sheltered life; I barely knew anything out side of the church…I felt like a bubble boy.
(A bubble boy; I didn’t even know what that was!)

I didn’t know anything outside of the church; back in my day, kids idolized Michael Jackson…oh not me; my idol was former Televangelist…Jim Bakker!

Watching hours of ‘The PTL Club’ was my personal Thriller.

Growing up, my siblings and I were not allowed to play outside; playing with heathen children was forbidden.

These kids were playing tag and street hockey; to my dad, that was the work of the Devil!

My dad didn’t want me outside - he was only trying to protect me; with all the kidnappings he heard about on the news, he was only making sure I didn’t end up getting snatched; he’d say, “If you get kidnapped, who’s gonna run my church?!”

I knew very little about the outside world, church was all I knew. I’ve been in church for so long, I couldn’t wait to see what ‘sin’ was like.

I was so curious back in those days; I’d pay anyone just to pick a combination lock.

I wasn’t always a Pastor’s kid; my parent’s weren’t always Christians.
We were sinners going happily straight to hell; then for some strange reason, my heathen reggae music, marijuana smoking father decided to go to church…bad move!

I was too young at the time, but I’m sure he tried to get out; then someone offered him Pastor hood!

He took it, and who could blame him.
When you’re the Pastor of your own church, you get to talk down to people, threaten sinners, and scare people into paying their tithes and offering…who could turn that down!

From then forward, I was transformed into a PK; by the way, this is worse than getting bitten by a radioactive spider.

(A Pastor’s kid can’t fight the devil, and he sure can’t beat Dr. Octopus.)

My father’s been a Pastor, for 30 years now; till this very day, Christians say to me “If your dad’s a Minister, what happened to you?”

What happened to me? Hey - I’m sorry for not walking in my dad’s foot steps; but apparently, those foot prints were covered in snow!

(There was a snow storm that day; I came out a few hours too late!)

When you’re the Preacher’s kid, you’re expected to carry the torch; if I decide on being anything other than a Minister, that’s a disappointment.

I could become the next Goodwill Ambassador of The United Nations, and members from my church would say “He’s an Ambassador? Where did his father go wrong? Thank God my baby’s sucking dick for crack!”

Growing up in church, I didn’t realize the whole time I was in training.
I know kids who took karate lessons four times a month, now they’re black belts. I went to church three days a week, and it definitely didn’t make me a better Christian; at this point, I should be walking on water!

I had too many responsibilities. At 8 years old, I was one of the church musicians. I had to play the drums, keyboards, and bass…sometimes all at once!

If I could heal the sick, I would heal a leper just so he could give me a hand!

I also had to sing in the church choir, the youth choir, and the men’s choir; I sang till I had strep throat!

If it weren’t for my five sisters, I would’ve had to join the women’s choir!

I never got to enjoy any of my school breaks; every March Break, and summer holidays were terrible. During those times I had to live at church; church was my summer camp!

(Well, minus the marshmallows, and the corny camp songs.)

(At my “summer camp”, you’d think we’d be allowed to reenact the last supper over a camp fire.)

During the year, I was at church pretty often; I had to go every Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday Morning and night.

Do you know what it’s like going to church three times a week?
Well imagine going to the Dentist three times a day! Yeah you won’t have gingivitis, but your gums would be raw as hell!

Growing up in church, we believed in water baptism. To be born again, your spiritual transformation happens in the pool; if you’re a midget…it’s a puddle.

Because we believed in the trinity, I was baptized in the name of the father, the son, and the holy-ghost, which was a mistake; because the father, the son, and the holy-ghost knew I couldn’t swim!

While I was in that pool drowning, I was waiting for one of them to throw me a lifesaver!

My father was the one who baptized me; you’d think he’d prep me by giving me a couple of swimming lessons. If I died…who would run his church?

To end things off, I think you all get the point that I never enjoyed being a Pastor’s kid; but the truth is, we all have to go through some form of chaos to evolve.

I’m no longer religious, but being apart of that organization is apart of my life’s training for something better yet to come; and without that experience…
THIS SON CAN NEVER RISE!