D.N.A. of a P.K. – My Story
Born and raised in coastal Georgia, I had the distinct privilege of coming up in a home of ‘CHURCH FOLK.’ I was considered a PK; many of you know the term translates as ‘Preacher’s Kid.’ My beginnings were, in appearance, a life of luxury and prestige. Other kids looked up to the PKs and pretty much followed their lead. Why not? They were the best examples, right? Not so fast!
Preachers’ children are not always the epitome of all that is holy and good by any stretch of the imagination. I would be remiss if I did not include that Preachers are not always the epitome of all that is holy and good. In many cases, just the opposite. For me personally, the preacher I knew was a monster in a suit or clergy robe. Between the age of 3 yrs -14 yrs old, I was in church 3-4 times a week, for 4-5 hours at a time. (black church, y’all. Some of you can relate).
With all of that… I never saw Christ in the home. How sad is that? I left the home… or should I say, the home left me. You see, I was managed quite well. Oh, I was provided shelter, food, clothing (second hand clothes while the preacher and first lady wore the finest). We rode in the finest cars; the church took great care of the pastor and his family. Much was provided… yet much was lacking. Darkness lurched in many corners of that home.
I would encourage each of you to visit the sister blog for the 3 part series of my story... beginning with D.N.A. of a PK - http://smallchange-hugeprofits.com/d-n-a-of-a-p-k-my-story/