Tonight I was talking with my son, Nathan about what to be when he grows up. He revealed something to me that I have been dreading for quite some time but knew would eventually come. He said, “Dad, sometimes I wish you weren’t a pastor.”
Ouch.
Now let me clarify before I go any further. 99.99999 percent of the time Nathan is thrilled to be the son of a pastor, but today he had yet another taste of an unfair expectation that, well, just seems to go with the territory.
You see, he got frustrated in a game of football and he and some friends were arguing about a touchdown. Was it or wasn’t it?
I should probably mention that when it comes to believing you are right about something, Nathan is a bit of a pitbull.
He ain’t letting go!
He gets this from his mother of course. 
Well, apparently one of the teachers said the dreaded phrase,
“I expect more from a pastor’s kid.”
Nothing was said to the other boys, and for a brief moment Nathan hated being a pastor’s kid.
We talked about that tonight. I told him that we have been given the unique opportunity to be a part of something very special for God and that the devil did not want Southbrook to keep taking territory form him. We’ve been given much.
To whom much is given, much will be expected.
He grabbed hold of that and everything was better.
I love that little pitbull!