Honor Your Mother and Father

         The phone rang at 12:55 a.m. I heard my mother’s voice saying, “Dad just died a few minutes ago.” I’d been bracing myself for that news for a few years, and especially over the last week or so. My immediate concern was for my mother. I asked her if she was OK and she said, “yes” in a not-so-sure way. The conversation  ended quickly since she had more calls to make. As I lay in bed receiving the comfort of my bride’s presence and gentle touch I instantly remembered my dad’s face and voice as it was a week ago and then projected backward through my distant memories. I remembered when, just before the casket was closed over my grandmother, Dad’s mom, he said, “This is the last time you’ll see her until you get to heaven.”

My bride asked, “Are you doing OK, Honey?” I said, “yes” in a more sure than my mother sounded sort of way. The truth is, I didn’t know how I felt. In that moment, I was hearing the words of “I Can Only Imagine” in my head. I thought about my dad at rest from his physical sufferings and especially from his constant emotional turmoil. His sharp mind could stop trying to stay ahead of everyone and everything now. I know his faith and trust that he is with our LORD in paradise now. I hope he is able to really know that it was good enough, that he was good enough.

After several minutes, I told my loving wife that I wasn’t troubled for myself so much as I was for my mom and our kids. I said, “I realize right now that I truly believe what I preach, teach, and pray about God, Christ, the Spirit, and heaven.” I went on to expound upon many thoughts she’d heard from me before and she patiently listened. I’ve been blessed to have her at my side as we’ve lived in a world of constant change and endless possiblilites. I’ve seen how fear of change can cause people to act like chained dogs. Their little sphere is predictable and limited, and God help you if you get inside it to do anything other than feed and water them.

I cannot say that I won’t miss my father – far from it! It’s just that I know I will see him again and that I am his living legacy. I see so much of the good in him in me too. I see myself refining and improving upon his example where needed, but I am not ashamed of him for being broken. I’ve been able to prepare for this moment because I had truly and completely forgiven him for any debt I felt he owed me. I feel assurance of his love for me and pride in me. We had no unfinished business because every conversation ended wih, “I love you” and I meant it.

I’m grateful that my spiritual maturity came well ahead of his death because it gave me time to talk “man-to-man” with him instead of as broken-son to broken-father. As a pastor I have seen the heartache and anquish that lies in the wake of bitterness and unselttled accounts. Experiences like those have not gone to waste in my life. I have been strengthened by learning from the lives of others as I journey with them. Therefore, pastors and the like, take note: Your sermons, programs, leadership, hospital calls, funerals, and weddings; your years of service to the denomination or the board, and your long-suffering subsistance on church salaries and life in parsonages will not buy you more favor from heaven than the forgiveness you give freely to those who gave birth to you and raised you. If your eye causes you to sin, cut it out – honor your mother and father.

More to come . . .