The Kids in the Crossfire
I remember the first time I realized people hated my dad. I was nine. They smiled at him on Sunday morning and shredded him over lunch at our house that afternoon.
Pastors’ kids lose their childhood early. Not always in dramatic ways—but in a slow, creeping unraveling. Their parents do their best to shield them from the emotional toll of ministry, but it seldom works. Because the truth is, a pastor’s work never ends—and that pressure doesn’t stay confined to the church office. It follows him home like smoke on his clothes.
And often, it’s not just him. His wife wants to be up to speed on what’s happening, so she asks. Pushes. Needs to know. And that’s when the leaks happen—often right in front of the kids.
We’re not dumb. We see it. We hear the whispers. We watch our parents melt in real time. We experience this fast-forwarding emotionally—and it sucks.
So we learn early how to navigate rooms full of people who smile at our parents while secretly loathing them. Some of us become master compartmentalizers, able to mask the turmoil with unsettling grace. Others collapse under the weight, overwhelmed by anger and confusion. The healthier ones disengage entirely—escaping into friend groups, sports, art, anything outside the four walls of the church.
Bob MacGregor once said, “You’re gonna screw up your kids no matter what you do.” Maybe he’s right. Maybe losing sleep over how traumatized they’ll be is pointless. After all, trauma is life. It’s how muscle is made. We’re not trying to raise trauma-free kids—we’re trying to raise resilient ones.
But pastors’ kids? They’re often forgotten. Overlooked. And they carry a unique kind of social dysfunction that most people don’t see—let alone understand.
So here’s one practical thing you can do to let them know they’re seen, valued, and loved:
Send them to PK VACAY.
It’s the only camp of its kind—built just for pastors’ kids.
Ed and Lisa Young created it in East Texas, and it’s absolutely world class—on par with, if not better than, anything Young Life puts on. They bring in top-notch speakers, but more importantly, they show up. Ed himself is a PK. He knows the drill.
I know a ton of PKs who’ve gone, and they lose their minds with joy. They connect instantly with other kids because—for once—they’re not the odd one out. They’re surrounded by people who get it. The friendships they form are real and lasting. The encouragement they receive? It’s priceless.
I could cry just writing this, because I know what these kids deal with. When Dad makes a mistake, they carry the social fallout. When someone else messes up? They carry it too. Always caught in the crossfire. Always watching. Always adjusting.
Here’s my challenge to you:
Tell your pastor the church should pay for their kids to go to PK VACAY this year.
It’s not cheap. It’s an investment. But it’s worth every dollar.
And Fellowship Church doesn’t make a dime off it. In fact, the church eats the cost—that’s how much Ed and Lisa believe in it.
Don’t make the pastor foot the bill. Make the church foot it. Stand up for your pastor’s kids. Fight for them. Insist they matter as much as the staff, because in many ways, they are staff.
They’re unpaid, invisible, and rarely thanked.
But they’re watching everything.
And they deserve to be loved well.
Go to the site and get them signed up for this June today!
-N
I went to a PK Camp when I was a teenager. Loved it. Still have a few friendships that were made there.
Wish I had this growing up - can’t wait to send my kids