My whole life has been about preachers, churches and ministry. You see I am a “PK” (Preacher’s Kid). I am a product of a stereotypical Pentecostal minister’s family. My dad and mom have been in ministry for almost fifty years and during that time they have planted, built and pastored churches all over the country. They evangelized for a number of years before that, and even had a traveling singing group. And though our family was from Arkansas, I was born into ministry in the hills of West Virginia during one of those traveling evangelistic campaigns.

Yes, I have seen it all and heard it all and I guess some would say that kind of makes me an expert, others a cynic. But one thing it did do for me, it infected me with a deep love for God and the men and women who are called to do His work.

Just about every PK knows what it is like to see their parents (mostly the men folk) sit around tables for hours telling stories, enjoying the victories and sharing the pain that a ministry lifestyle can bring. As a kid these times were not a drag to me as you might imagine. No, I would not trade those hours, those hundreds of hours as a kid sitting around the table after church with those folks, for anything. It was my first ministry classroom. I learned to laugh as some of the greatest preacher/humorists in the nation would tell their latest jokes, and to cry as missionaries would talk of the sacrifices and joys of sharing the gospel with others around the world who had not heard. As I listened with eager ears I heard the hearts of these people beating through the words that came out of their mouths – teachers with a deeper revelation, evangelists who wept for souls, prophets with a word for the church, singers with a brand new song. But I guess that the thing that I learned most from those great men and women of God was about passion. I learned to believe, to believe that our lives should have purpose, that they should mean something. I came to understand that life when lived to its full potential will involve love for God and for others, a life of service, and of sacrifice. I learned about a God who would never leave us nor forsake us and could not fail. While my particular moment of conversion would come at an altar in a church in a small community in the mountains of Arkansas, I became a believer sitting at Dad and Mom’s table, surrounded by preachers.