After I wrote The Pastor’s Kid a couple years ago I kept hearing from different PKs wondering if there was a conference for our kind. I don’t know of any, but the more I thought about it the funnier the idea became to me. A conference for PKs – here’s how that would look.
. . . their parents would sign them up to volunteer at it.
. . . if they showed up late someone would call their parents.
. . . they would all try to sit at the back.
. . . half of them would be clamoring to lead worship.
. . . the rest would refuse to participate.
. . . everyone would show up with tucked in shirts or ankle-length skirts and immediately untuck or change.
. . . if an they skipped a session someone would call their parents.
. . . it would double as the sword drill national championship.
. . . males and females would sit on opposite sides of the arena without being told to.
. . . after the every session ended they would hang around for an hour complaining about being bored and hungry out of sheer habit.
. . . they would all listen tensely waiting for the speaker to use them as an example in his message
. . . no pastors could be invited to speak since the audience stopped listening to them years ago.
. . . all the quiet corners would be filled with people trying to sneak a smoke.
. . . when the smokers were caught security would immediately call their parents.
. . . at meals they would all try to find the “kids table.”
. . . at every evening session half of them would recommit their lives to Christ.
. . . they would all play truth-or-dare in the back of the bus on the way home.