Honoring Isn't Optional

Honor your father and mother - which is the first commandment with a promise - so that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth. Ephesians 6:2-3 NIV 

 Father's Day knotted my stomach. Facing troves of "greatest father ever" greeting cards I'd sigh, mumble something like, "Yeah, right!" until I found the most generic card I could find. At least when I was younger all I had to do was scratch my name at the bottom of my sister's card and slide by the honoring part on her coat tails.

Until I was in my late forties, honoring my father never came easy and knowing the statistics of divorce, maybe it doesn't come easy for many of us or our kids. (Now, I'm not saying that it's only fathers that gain a child's disdain in a divorce, if at all, nor am I saying divorce is the only situation that causes us to dishonor our fathers. I only know my story and I'm writing a Father's Day article, so please allow me a bushel of grace).

Since God created the commandment to honor our father (and mother), honoring isn't optional. So, how do we honor our fathers (and mother) when we feel they fall short (divorced or not)? Or as mothers, how do we teach our children to honor their fathers when we feel they don't deserve it? 

(Be brave and join me at the Christian Children's Author blog for the complete article).

The Final Chapter

You show that you are a letter from Christ...written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God... 2 Corinthians 3:3 NIV

Bent over two bowls of soup, we share lunch on the hospital tray. He doesn't say much, for what's there to say when you traverse between the bed and a wheelchair day after day? We'd all hoped for a better outcome - one that found restoration either this side of heaven or the other. Instead, I share soup across the table from the shadow of a man I call "Dad." 

He sips and labors over every bite like he's plowing through a banquet-sized meal and I sense his frustration - how little pleasures like eating aren't pleasures anymore, but rather, struggles that steal his breath and I know what he's thinking - "Why go on living?"

My spirit cries within me, "Take him home, Jesus. Take him home!" But Jesus answers, "I'm not finished writing his story just yet. Keep reading." 

I read between the lines through the silence - flashback to a time when I would have wished him gone - not to relieve his pain, but my own - to suffer the same pain his abandonment caused me - wished he'd simply disappear. But he came back. 

And now.

Now, I stand at the bathroom sink scrubbing his dirty dentures and bend over the laundry basket folding his shirts wondering from where in his story this love comes? What makes me want to do these things for him? It's no love I conjured up on my own for this dying man; nothing I ever wrote down or plotted.

This is all part of God's story written between us. The story where forgiveness dissolves diseases like anger and resentment and where Love rewrites the ending, not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God.

And, where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom to love as He loves; to see others as He sees them; to restore all the time and circumstances once stolen. This Spirit breathes warmth and light and new life into our cold, cold hearts, our deepest, darkest thoughts and our shattered families and redeems all things through Christ.

While it's difficult watching Dad slowly whittle away, I pray for patience to watch and wait for God's perfect ending to this final chapter. 

Abba, Father,
While we watch and wait for the end - whether in our own lives or a loved one's life - help us to always look for your story you're writing in the midst of all the suffering. Fill us with your Spirit that helps us see others through your eyes and love as you love. Grant us the patience and understanding during these most difficult times and where forgiveness needs granting, humble us to offer it as it has been freely given to us through your Son, Jesus. Amen