Fishbowl - The Long Essay
I'm a pastor's kid, and I have the scars to prove it. My parents were called into full-time ministry from before I was born. They were traveling evangelists for eight years before they planted a church and then decided to add a third wheel: me. OK. I'm technically an only child. In reality, I'm the youngest of two; my parents' firstborn was their church.
I'm scared shitless writing this. I delayed this for a long time because when I write, I dig deep, and I wasn't sure what I would find upon the excavation of my personal history. However, We're Not Really Strangers is probably right: "If a conversation is hard, it's probably the one worth having." So let's see if I can survive this.
My friends and I call ourselves The PK Squad. There were four of us, and we were all pastor's kids. We even made matching sweatshirts. (The letters were in gold glitter because Joy said her favorite color is sparkle. No, I'm not joking.) We've had a lot of chats over the years about our childhoods and our experiences as PKs, the latest conversation being this past week as I prepare to write this article. I also asked my pastor (who's a Missionary Kid, by the way) and his daughter for their insights. My biggest takeaway from these conversations is that every experience is unique. While we were all PKs and MKs, our circumstances were different: our families, our cultures, our geographical locations, our parents' ministries, our personalities. With that in mind, I go into this post understanding that these observations, experiences, and lessons are unique to me; this isn't what every PK experienced. Nevertheless, I wouldn't be who I am today without these experiences - the good, the bad, and the complicated.
So here are lessons learned from this particular PK.
Unlimited calls on the family plan
I have never once seen my parents doubt their call. Both my dad and my mum had always been sure of their life of ministry. Honestly, it's somewhat unnerving for me as an adult. It was even more frightening for me as a child! I never saw them question their choice of vocation, and they never took the time to communicate to me about how I fit into all that. My parents' tagline was: We serve at the pleasure of the Lord. It's like they're cabinet staff and God's the president, right? Today, I can look back and respect their dedication and commitment. Young Tirza, however, felt like she was put on the family call plan as their child. I didn't feel like I had a choice. I've talked to other PKs, and some see their parents' call as a family calling, which means it's their call too. Yeah, that wasn't me. I felt like I was an add-on to my parent's call plan for a long time. Call me dramatic, but at times, I felt like I was collateral damage to my parents' work contract with God.
Because I felt like I was part of my parents' package, that translated to associating my faith with my parents'. I was a Christian because my parents were Christians. I was involved in church because my parents were involved in church. I attended every single activity at church because we lived at the church. Quite literally. It took me quite some time to detach from my parents' faith. I needed time and space to ask questions, ones I never felt like I was allowed to ask as a pastor's kid. I needed to explore the options, lean into my doubts a little. So I did a lot of faith exploration, starting from when I was seventeen all the way to college. And all of that happened away from my parents' church. Even the decision to go into full-time ministry was something I struggled with. I didn't want to be a pastor because my parents were pastors. It needed to be a personal decision, one between God and me. This was a crucial part of my faith journey, realizing that my relationship with God and my entrance to ministry was not - and should not be - reliant on my parents' relationship with God.
Who thought of putting "Welcome" on doormats?
Ministry is often highly associated with self-sacrifice. The association comes from both sides, the ministers and the congregation, creating the perfect storm of pious-looking toxicity. I know. I sound harsh, but I think this is something that the church needs to address. It's one thing to live a life of biblical sacrifice the way Jesus did; it's an entirely different thing entirely to force others to sacrifice in the way we expect them to. People read Philippians 2 and often conclude that ministers need to empty themselves into their ministry, just like Jesus did. Uh. No. That's not what Philippians 2 is all about. Let's not make scripture mean something it never did mean. Philippians 2 talks to all believers, not just ministers. Also, it talks about the attitude of one's heart when handling our relationship with others. Can I also just say that if we look at how Jesus ministered, he's laser-focused towards his mission. He says no to certain good things to focus on the best things. Jesus is not doing something to bring glory to himself; Jesus always brings glory back to his Father. He also didn't pander to people and their expectations.
When sacrifice is seen as either an ego-boosting move or a way to appease people (read: other humans), ministers get distracted from service's primary purpose. This creates a toxic environment for them and the people in their ministries. Speaking from both observation and experience, I would say that self-sacrificial "moves" for the wrong motives are the equivalent of a humblebrag. It cancels each other out. Actually, these self-sacrificial "moves" for the sake of ego and/or external validation can push ministers to do more every time and give more every time to the point where they lose focus, lose purpose, and burn out.
The other side of the coin brings us to the congregation. Church attendees who are not involved in church ministries may develop consumer mentalities. The dangers of congregation members with consumer mentalities are that they would expect ministers - professional or lay - to sacrifice themselves according to the congregation member's expectations. It is a given that pastors and leaders would sacrifice everything. It is expected of them to sacrifice themselves. Some might think leaders are not good leaders if they don't. I grew up seeing my parents face all these expectations. My mum sacrificed her kitchen. Our family lived at the church, which means we lived in an apartment on the third floor of the church building. There were no boundaries. People would come up and walk into my mum's kitchen to borrow a pan, a plate, a pot. Anything! I would get frustrated that mum wouldn't say anything, but there was a point where she believed that that was ministry - letting people walk in and do whatever they want to your kitchen. The people seem to operate under the assumption that the pastor and family should let them do whatever they want.
Is it because pastors and leaders are supposed to be these zen pacifists, whose greatest joy in life is to sacrifice themselves above and beyond what they want have already done in their jobs? No. I was being facetious, people. This is actually why I will never purchase a Welcome doormat for my home. I want privacy; however, in addition to that, I also felt like the sacrifice people associate ministry with is, at its foundational level, being a doormat. I, personally, have been on the receiving end of these expectations as a minister, that I should sacrifice my personal life, my downtime, and my relationships to be available for people in the time and way they want me to. It is downright overwhelming.
As an adult trying to make sense of some of my experiences with the church, I had to learn to create boundaries and communicate them. That was challenging when you lived in an environment with no boundaries. Maybe this is a simple thing, but I learned how to create margin in my life. I learned how to take a break! That's rather insane, I know. The PK Squad will tell you that out of all the Bible Studies we have done, the one on rest by Priscilla Shirer (I think the actual title is "Breathe") is one of the most impactful for us. Trying to have boundaries is nearly impossible in an environment that can potentially view it as a selfish act and, thus, unbiblical.
Full-court press
As a PK, I faced a lot of pressure from all sides: my parents and the church congregation. OK, that was an understatement. Their intentions were noble. At least, I think so. However, I am no diamond. Pressure doesn't create a gem out of me.
From my parents, I felt the pressure to be mature and spiritual. By that, I mean I felt like I needed to have things together. I felt like I needed to be an outstanding Christian and a great Christian minister. I feel conflicted talking about this. My parents taught me to preach from a young age. Think pre-teens. While today I am incredibly grateful for the legacy, for a young girl, that's pressure. I had to attend all-night prayer meetings on top of all-nighters I was pulling for school. I didn't just have to minister; I had to lead ministries. I had to love Jesus and love reading the Bible. (But we all know this, forced love isn't love.) I know they simply wanted me to love God the way they did, but I didn't feel like I could be a normal kid because the bar was so high; I should have done gymnastics rather than ballet. (You know, because gymnastics have bars?) I am an only child, so I didn't have siblings to spread the pressure around. I love my parents, and I am very blessed to have been raised in a godly family, but I can also acknowledge the strain involved.
The external pressure was less a burden as it was annoying, starting with insensitive comments about my weight, clothes, friends, and love life. All the makings of standard Indonesian small talk material. What got to me was when I would get compared to other teenagers (because a PK is supposed to be the model kid). The hardest part for me was when I would get compared to their ideal view of what I should be. There's no winning that one, I can tell you that.
Put people under pressure, and they'll break. But they'll show you their personalities while breaking. Some succumb to pressure. Others live in denial. My initial gut reaction is to rebel. Call me a rebel without a cause. If I had gone unchecked, I would have gone off the deep end. However, I realized I still had to live with my parents and face church people, so I was covert about my rebellion. This, in turn, created a manipulation monster. I got good at faking faith. I knew what to say and how to act. I lived a double life, seemingly perfect, yet was utterly adept at manipulating situations to get what I wanted (or get away with the things I wanted to get away with). It was exhausting.
So I left. At seventeen, I had a pretty big Jesus moment and decided to attend a different church afterward. A church where I wasn't the pastor's kid. Miraculously, my mum was supportive of that move. I think the pastor's kid in her knew I needed some space.
Hindsight comes with maturity, or at least that's what they tell us. I might not react well to all the strain in my teenage years, but I learned a lot about managing stress. I learned a lot from this experience about myself and how I react under pressure. I learned the importance of taking the time and space to figure out who I am, what I value, and what I believe in - apart from other people's expectations. Honestly, I didn't automatically get it. It took years of trying and failing and trying again. Taking the space and putting distance from some of these pressures allowed me to really actually love God, not because I'm being pressured to. I got the chance to fall in love with God's Word. Before, I felt like I had to read the Bible because that's part of the rules of engagement in our family. There was a point in my life where things changed, and I picked up the Bible for myself. That was a breakthrough if there ever was one.
Now you see me, now you don't.
A fish in a fishbowl is simultaneously invisible and on display. I mentioned earlier that I had scars. This means that I have things that I have carried with me to this day, things that are still affecting me today. This is one of them. Like a fish in a fishbowl, being a PK got me confused. I felt like I was always on display, that every little action was scrutinized. I remember comments were made about me by congregation members without ever considering that the words they say can hurt deeply.
"Your clothes are too tight."
"You look like a slob."
"You have the makings of a Jezebel."
"You're throwing yourself at guys."
"Are you dating him? You shouldn't be dating."
"Should you be eating that?"
"You're too much."
Whoever said words can't hurt was obviously lying. Even as I bristled from feeling like I was always on display, I felt invisible. I grew up with the nagging feeling that people see me but could never really see me.
To this day, I struggle with this. As an adult minister, I still feel like that fish in a fishbowl, on display yet forgotten. I bristle at the idea that people feel like they have carte blanche to scrutinize, comment, and make judgments on my life. I still hear echoes of the exact words I got as a teenager. My personality, my relationships, my looks seem to be fair game. Privacy seems to be out of reach. Yet, at the same time, I still want to be seen. If you stopped me a decade ago and asked me what it is, I fear, my answer would be: to be forgotten. But, being scrutinized and commented on is not the same thing as being seen. I struggle. I want to hide from the world, but I want to be seen. I want to banish the words that have etched scars so deep I still feel the pain even when I'm grown. What would it look like to be seen for who I am and simply loved? Is that even possible?
You won't ever see me do a trust fall.
I know I'm not the only PK to have developed this, but I have major trust issues. I can't help feeling like I am living out some kind of irony: I love people, but I don't trust them. For me, being a pastor's kid is like getting front-row seat tickets to how broken humans can be. No matter how well my parents tried to hide this from me, I observed happenings. I picked up on things. I saw people my parents pastored struggling through relationships, from failed marriages, affairs, hostile family relationships, to failed business partnerships. I saw how people disappoint and hurt others, even those they profess to love, and it stuck with me. Things got personal for me when I would see church people hurt my parents. Some of the things I saw and heard hurt me because they hurt my parents. These are the same people who started the church with my parents. These are the same people who would celebrate my birthdays. It's hard to learn to trust people when time and time again, you witness how trusts (and hearts) are broken.
Relationships are complicated for me. The reality of being an only child means that I don't have built-in friendships that come with having siblings. So I had to make friends. However, trying to make friends in my parents' church poses a challenge because I never knew if the friends I had or the treatment I received were because they really wanted to be my friend or if I'm the pastor's kid and they have to play nice. Can I trust someone to be who they say they are?
Well, trust me, I have issues.
No rose-colored glasses for this girl.