We’ve all known our share of preachers over the years. I know I have. Some I’ve liked, some have been responsible for some of the most important moments in my life - and a few have gotten on my ever last nerve.
What can say? It happens. No matter what anybody wants to believe, in the end, Preachers are just people. And sometimes people can be downright annoying.
The one thing that I always loved about Preachers when I was a kid was the fact that a lot of ‘em back then used to go by letters instead of names.
There was A.C. Clausen, D.B. Sweeny, W.P. McKnight. I mean, come on - how cool is THAT? You’d NEVER call one of these guys “Brian” or “Mike”. They were D.W., J.C., or Brother N.B. - I defy you to try to pick a fight with a guy called Brother N.B. Sounds like a Christian rap artist...or a sit-com. Possibly a serial killer.
The fact that these old-timey Preachers used to go by letters instead of names is probably one of the reasons I often go by B.P. now. I love being called letters. I also love pretending to be an oil company. So either way, it works for me.
Now don’t get me wrong - I LOVE my name. I am so very proud that my mother in her wisdom named me the name of the very thing I would one day grow up to be: a Preacher.
And let’s face it - there weren’t TOO many kids in my grade NAMED “Preacher”. There WAS a kid named Jack Hammer Operator but he only went to school there one semester. He was a loud kid. Anyhow...
And let’s face it - there weren’t TOO many kids in my grade NAMED “Preacher”. There WAS a kid named Jack Hammer Operator but he only went to school there one semester. He was a loud kid. Anyhow...
ATWSAS (As together we stand and sing).
BP
