Too often, preachers are portrayed as being either afraid of sin, surprised by it, or head-scratchingly befuddled when it appears. Not true. Having a preacher for your dad means having a father who understands that the root of all sin is our fallen hearts and that the remedy for all sin is the perfect work of Christ.
This week, Lifetime Television premiered a new reality series Preachers’ Daughters which the official website calls “a behind-the-alter [sic] look at what happens at home after the sermon.” From the trailer, it looks like most of what happens is gratuitously sexy clothing, lots of behind-the-bleachers kissing, and three preacher dads who are pulling out what remains of their hair.
Reality TV is notoriously unreal, and Christians have never been the darlings of the television screen. But when it comes to preachers’ families, I feel a bit defensive. I am a preacher’s daughter, and I’d like to set the record straight.
Someone might watch this show and think: the sins of the three daughters are shocking; surely this is all hype.
But, no, it’s all true.
Not only do preacher’s daughters sometimes sin in the ways shown in this show’s previews (premarital sex, rebellious immodesty, and blatant defiance of their parents) we usually do so much more.
Preachers’ daughters—the real ones, I mean—are routinely guilty of laziness, pride, selfishness, and lukewarm affections for Christ. We often fail to guard our tongues, to love neighbor as self, and to give thanks in all circumstances. We love the things of this world, and we foolishly neglect to feed on the bread of life.
Preacher’s daughters are a wicked lot.
For every last one of us, the good that we would do, we do not, and the very thing we hate, that we do. And each one of our hundreds of thousands of sins is an offense to a holy God. No reality series on the subject could be shocking enough.
Preacher’s Daughters will almost certainly underestimate our sin. But I think it will underestimate other things, too.
From the previews, I suspect that Preachers’ Daughters is likely to minimize the blessing of having a preacher for a dad. The online trailer opens with scenes of the three preachers, at the end of themselves, in desperate prayer for their daughters. This is right—and all wrong. Yes, preachers trust only in the work of the Spirit for their daughters’ salvation. But preachers have also been given the very tools that the Spirit uses—they know how to point people to Christ.
Too often, preachers are portrayed as being either afraid of sin, surprised by it, or head-scratchingly befuddled when it appears. Not true.
Having a preacher for your dad means having a father who understands that the root of all sin is our fallen hearts and that the remedy for all sin is the perfect work of Christ.
I also suspect that the Preachers’ Daughters series will fail to acknowledge the very real power of the Word. Sitting in church week after week, hearing spiritual things discussed in the home, and having parents who sincerely love the Lord is not a recipe for rebellion and resentment.
Instead, God tells us that His word is living and active (Hebrews 4:12), always accomplishes what He intends (Isaiah 55:10-11), and is the very thing He uses to bring sinners to repentance (Romans 10:13-14). Yes, the message of Christ is a stumbling block to some. But to many, preachers’ daughters included, it is the word of life.
We can have confidence in
“the power of the indwelling Word of God to solve a thousand problems before they happen, and to heal a thousand wounds after they happen, and to kill a thousand sins in the moment of temptation, and to sweeten a thousand days with the ‘drippings of the honeycomb.” (John Piper, When I Don’t Desire God)
I think, by God’s grace, the real preachers’ daughters will be just fine.
Megan Hill is a PCA pastor’s wife and regular contributor to The Aquila Report. She and her mother write Sunday Women where this article first appeared. It is used with permission.
Subscribe to Free “Top 10 Stories” Email
Get the top 10 stories from The Aquila Report in your inbox every Tuesday morning.