I have nothing against the above phrase. I just prefer that it not be used in conjunction with my name. Here’s why:
When I was young(er) we had a book about a kid named Farmer Boy, or something like that. Whatever the case, the name of the book and picture on the front cover (a boy with a mildly bored expression leaning on two joyous calfs) seemed derogatory.
Over the years, I suppose the image of Farmer Boy has ruined any prospect I have of appreciating the term Preacher Boy. I, for example, do not chew on long pieces of straw. Never have.
Regardless of my likes and dislikes, I was blessed with the opportunity to preach last Sunday. The congregation was very kind; from their comments, one would never have known that I was green, as in inexperienced, young, and a little shaky behind the pulpit. I need to grab any chance I get to preach, though. Before too long, I’ll be the owner of the pulpit and be expected to know how to use it (Deo Volente).