Honor Thy Father

There is a promise for those who honor their father (and mother) in Ephesians 6:2, "Honour thy father and mother; (which is the first commandment with promise;)That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth" (KJV). And in Exodus 20:12, "Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee" (KJV).

These promises offer longevity and wellness from honoring the father. The father may be imperfect, difficult or unfeeling, but God's promises are without defect to those who obey His word.

Today my father turned 70 years old. I called him to wish him a happy birthday. I must have repeated his age so many times that he stopped me short. "Why do you keep saying it, now I feel old!"

I thought for a minute before saying, "We have so much to do, letters to write and calls to each other." I swallowed hard. "I just don't want it all end, one day." On the other line there was deafening silence before my father broke in with a some subject on Mom being too old. He let out a hearty laugh, breaking the tension.

My mind went back to that day four years ago. It was early in the morning when God spoke to my heart. Take out a pen and paper and trace your hand. Then send it to your father asking for his prayers. At that time, I was very ill from the side effects of an antibiotic to treat strep throat. Later there was another doctor's report for some other health matter resulting in more illness. So I wrote out my prayer request and folded up the paper with trembling hands.

Sometime later, the Lord said, it's arrived in the mail. It was the night I was flying out to meet my family in Florida to ask for their prayers and to pray with them. I opened the mailbox and inside was a short, white envelope. It was a letter from my father. I wept. 15 years of silence was broken.

Inside the envelope was the same folded sheet of paper with my traced hand when I notice something else. I held the sheet of paper up to the sunlight. There was oil smudges. He had anointed it with oil!

Over the next two years we quietly exchanged letters. Each letter brought more healing and strength. I was learning about a man who was nearly a stranger in my childhood. We could be in the same room, but he was quite absent and disengaging. Now, we write as often as possible. Then one day my wife walks out of the house where I was standing in the front yard, "You got to go hear the voice message." I listened for the first time the sound of my father's voice. "Call me, son."

Honoring my father was the hardest thing to do for someone I'd blamed much of my life's failure and sin until God broke the arrogance and pride in my heart. I'm learning the best way to honor my father is simply be a son. No pretense, no demands, no asking a lot of questions though my heart aches at times, but say simply, "Daddy, I love you." As always there is a long pause, then a voice that bursts over the line with a certain formality wry humor, "I love you, too son."