Religious Fans

“…the biggest issue that I had with my father growing up was that he put so much energy into anyone who would go to his services or write to him. He paid a lot of attention to strangers and people who thought he was perfect. He had religious fans.”

That quote really hit home just now…the perspective of another kid of a preacher man. It’s almost like there is a larger than life, rock star type quality to pastors. They’re cool in their religious circle. It’s pretty hard not to see them as better than they really are. The flock thinks, “What a great man.” But, the kids actually live with the man and see the truth. He’s human.

I remember always having this confusion about my dad. I’d see him speak to captive audiences about Jesus. He’d get applause. And laughs. And, while part of me wanted to believe that the myth and the man were the same (that is the greatness people saw on the outside actually equated to greatness on the inside), most of me knew that he was a broken man who was uncomfortable for me to be around.

I had a hard time liking him, but that was not easy to be honest about as a kid, especially when all I seemed to hear from his religious fans were compliments. Years later, I heard negative things said about my dad and it was strangely comforting.

Of course nobody is going to talk shit on my dad to his kids. But, as an adult I’ve heard of strained relationships people had with my dad and difficulties in dealing with him and it’s been kind of cathartic. Stories of him being imperfect helped me see that I wasn’t crazy. Other people felt those same uncomfortable feelings I grew up with.

The author of the quote above had a similar experience to mine. And she went so far as to call her dad’s followers “fans.” It becomes this unhealthy hero-worship type thing where pastors get their ego stroked and spend time with their followers who tell them how great they are, but often the pastor’s own kids get ignored in the process.

The Lord’s work is the important thing. Tending to the flock. But, when your kids are uncomfortable in your home and grow up to be adults with deep issues, was it worth it? It felt good to save some souls and be told what a great Christian leader you are at the time, but how was your life any less shallow than a rock star who is constantly on tour and makes his kids feel abandoned?

It’s even worse for the kids of the rock stars of the Christian world, the pastors, because it feels really shitty to question things. We’re expected to make sacrifices, because there’s nothing more important than our dad’s job. But, the dad’s primary job shouldn’t be ministry, it should be parenting.

And I’m sure there are a lot of other preacher’s kids like me who watched their dad love his followers well and wonder what the fuck is wrong with me? Why is my dad so good at loving other people’s kids, but he can’t make me feel loved?

On one hand, that’s some shit, but on the other hand, it made me find out for myself what’s great about me. My dad’s face wasn’t a mirror to help me see my greatness. I couldn’t see him delight in me the way a father should. But, it’s been really gratifying to feel that outside of his influence. I haven’t really talked to my dad in two years. In that time, I’ve had a chance to grow up a little.

And I think the thing that gives me the most pride in my life on my own is the laughter of my children, knowing that they can just be kids and that they feel safe and comfortable with me. I am their home. We don’t have a lot of stuff or a house or a pretty Christmas card, but I wouldn’t trade any of that for the feeling I get when I know that they know that I think they’re incredible. It’s the most natural thing in the world to make my kids feel loved and cared for. It's my job. And there’s healing and re-parenting that goes on as I love my kids. They’re the only fans I need. It’s really humbling to know they adore me, as it’s taken me most of my life to learn to accept compliments or adore myself.