Christian Living

A LITTLE PK HUMOR

by Charles (Chuck) Robey
10/29/16
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"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child: now that I am become a man, I have put away childish things." (1 Cor:13:11)

“While woman weep, as they do now, I'll fight; while little children go hungry, as they do now, I'll fight; while men go to prison, in and out, in and out, as they do now, I'll fight; while there is a drunkard left, while there is a poor girl upon the streets, while there remains one dark soul without the light of God, I'll fight - I'll fight to the very end.” (General William Booth, Salvation Army Founder)

Growing up as a Salvation Army Officer's (minister’s) kid was quite an experience. Yes, that makes me the proverbial "Preachers Kid" or "PK" for short. Well, you might think being exposed to the Christian way of life one would have it made, with a free ticket to glory land. Not so. Even PK's have to punch their own ticket.

That old cliché "From the cradle to the grave" was certainly true to form for this PK. From the very outset, I had this drug problem. You see, every time the church house doors were opened I was "drug to church.”

Moving around the country was normal for me while growing up in the Salvation Army (ministry). By the time I was in the sixth grade, I had been to six different cities and six different schools. One school would hold me back as I was not advanced in the school curriculum. And another school would move me ahead, due to being too advanced. Times were good however, even in the hallowed halls of the church atmosphere.

My early school years were not as remarkable as my latter ones. Once as a small child, I even told a group of my playmates I could control the weather simply by praying. I then showed them, by putting on an exhibition of praying for rain. Obviously, it didn't rain. I ended the demonstration by telling my friends my faith was weak.

On another occasion in my youth, as my parents were in charge of the U.S.O. Club, I was accused of setting fire to one of the hostesses’ tires. This was during a time of history when nylon tires were scarce. Dad ended up paying for her tire, even though she continued driving on the tire forever. I plead the Fifth on this one.

My time in Washington DC was one of my better experiences. Dad was in charge of the "Adult Rehabilitation Center", a program for the recovery of alcohol and drug abuse, and we lived in the building. Yes, my young eyes were opened wide.

Oftentimes, the setting would get a little hairy at the ARC. One incident in particular, was my brief encounter with one of the not-so-regenerated morally reformed occupants. He was sitting out on the front sidewalk, cradling his beloved bottle, when I just happened to walk by. He suddenly gave me a wild stare, then threw his bottle at me, which busted directly under my feet. Dad didn't lose his religion that time, but he came close.

Often times, the wife will remind me that I never seem to cease the mentioning of food when reminiscing. One such occasion was a weekly occurrence at the ARC. The dining area was always closed on Sunday's, which meant we were on our own. I never failed to pig out.

My time in the third grade in Washington DC, was an eye opener, particular for this young Southern PK. The teacher would sit us down in a semi-circle and read to us. For some unknown reason, I remember her once saying, "In the South, they grow cotton and corn.” This school year was exciting, however as when it rained, we would get out of school early on what they called a "rainy day schedule.” Yes, I caught myself praying for rain, especially, when it came to test time.

As the SA officers gained seniority, their various appointments were not as short-lived. Such was the case in Panama City Fl. Dad was stationed in PC for nine years. So, most of my latter school year experiences occurred in PC.

Panama City is where my fifth grade professional basketball career took hold. On game day, the entire school would gather around the outdoor cement court, to watch us play. It was then that my show-off days began. When I would score a goal, the cheerleaders would always yell "PK, PK!”. And PK suddenly became the sardonic battle cry of all my young boyhood friends.

It was always good to be able to chow down on fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy at the invite of a member's wife on Sunday afternoon. But it was bad when you got into trouble for the slightest boyhood mischief. And, believe me, my Dad would hear about the most trivial occurrences.

On occasion, when we kids would just happen to pop our bubble gum, Dad would stop the service, walk down in the congregation, and pass a church bulletin around for us kids to deposit our gum. Dad would then return to the pulpit, never missing a sermon note beat.

At one point, we had a bakery in our neighborhood that would give the S.A. leftover pastries at day's end to feed the less fortunate. I would catch myself praying the bakery would have a bad day, so we could get more pies. I later prayed that God would understand and forgive my childhood selfishness.

We were lucky to have a large group of young people in our congregation, and as the PK, I had my pick of "Puppy Loves.” We would sit in church and silently send "Puppy Love" messages back and forth by pointing to hymn titles, only to be called down from the pulpit by Dad's persuasive facial expressions.

When I became of driving age, I was allowed to drive the church van, in taking the young people home from church activities. I always managed to take a certain gal home last. Can you just image that?

Once when I was helping my Dad count the money donated through the S.A. Red Kettle Christmas Drive, I noticed a puzzled look on his face and asked what was wrong. Dad said he found that he was coin short, when wrapping the change. I replied by simply asking," Why not just add a coin and move on?” Dad replied by saying, "No son, this is God's money, donated by a special person for God's business.” A strong lesson was learned that day. And, oh yes, the missing link was found under the table.

My best friend, who was also a member of our SA Corps (title given the SA churches) took on a Saturday paper route delivering "The Grit" paper, and I would befriend him on his route. My help didn't last long, as his Mom told me I had to stop helping him.
Together, we were eating up all the profit. Each time we would collect, we would stop for soft drinks and candy.

Another profound memory growing up was the missionary programs. Sitting through those 125-count missionary slide presentations were quite impressive. However, I was profoundly amazed as to what the missionaries went through, in giving the gospel throughout the world. They would all stress God's command, as stated in the "Great Commission" (Acts 1:8), and they all seemed to have such strong faith in their mission.

Looking back, growing up as a "PK", the most important message I remember was the strong, but simple evangelistic teaching which states, "For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not of works, that no one should boast" ( Ephesians2:8-9). And I hold to that message today.

Additionally, in support of the evangelistic message, was the old-fashioned church altar. I know the physical make-up of the altar was no different than any other construction. However, that old fashioned altar was very special for me, for that old altar was where I was first introduced to the Living God.

Yes, I am of the yester-year church generation. I still believe in that "Old Time Religion.” I can't help but ponder those old brush-arbor revival meetings where the "Amen's" and the "Hallelujah's" echoed, as the Spirit led.

I must mention however, even a PK doesn't always obey the teachings of Christ. But, "Praise God", we serve an all-knowing, all-understanding God. And His Grace is sufficient for all our needs and reaches to the uttermost. He will forgive us of our sins (1 John 1:9).

Well, enough PK war stories for now. Yes, those were the "good ole days." Sorry, they can't be relived in the flesh. But we all have to move on in life, you know. Amen!

Author's Postscript:

Some may not be aware that The Salvation Army is actually a religious origination which holds regular church services. It is an evangelist-based movement which originally broke from the Methodist church in London, England. It was started as "The Christian Mission" and then later renamed "The Salvation Army.” Reason for the departure from the Methodist church was that the established church powers didn't want the SA to preach to the poor and down-and-out citizens, which went against the intent of the SA to reach out to all.

Its mission: The Salvation Army, an international movement, is an evangelical part of the universal Christian Church. Its message is based on the Bible. Its ministry is motivated by the love of God. Its mission is to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and to meet human needs in His name without discrimination. Dad and Mom were fortunate by holding the highest field ranking of "Brigadier.”