HONORING YOUR PARENTS & THE EASY YOKE

Every command of the Bible points to a person’s relationship either with God or fellow humans. Following the commands creates a logical promise: if anyone is able to follow every command of the Bible, he will enjoy the life of the easy yoke which Jesus offers in Matthew 11:28-30. 

Suppose then, you grew up with a parent who, from your perspective and experience, made your childhood a shambles. One day, you run across Commandment #5: “Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God has commanded you, that your days may be prolonged and that it may go well with you on the land which the LORD your God gives you.” (Deuteronomy 5:16)

Your brow furrows into a frown. How can you honor a parent who destroyed your youth, who left scars on your heart? However, as a believer, shouldn’t you obey this commandment?

Is it okay to choose the commandments you’re going to obey and ignore those you don’t want to obey? Is that how it works—everyone picks out the commandments he wants to follow and discards the rest? God honors that?

Yes, parents leave scars. They’re imperfect people who sin like you and me. Regardless what you think, they could be bound for Heaven, where you may run into them. How will you act then? What will you say?

If you ignore them or cuss them out, won’t that be a sin? How does sinning work in Heaven?

The idea of ‘honor’ in the Hebrew language means giving someone weight. When you honor someone, you’re giving him value. You’re indicating he carries significance with you.

Maybe you’re saying, “But you didn’t have the kind of parent I had.”

Yes, I did. Because of his alcoholism, my father made my childhood a recurring wreck. A time arrived in my life when I had zero respect for him. Full of bitterness, I resolved my dad would become a minor footnote in my life.

Then, one day, I decided to forgive him. That’s all I did. I resolved to forgive and to unconditionally love him from that moment forward. I didn’t have to go to therapy or counseling. No one advised me to march up to him and unload my grievances upon him. I simply desired to forgive and to love him, despite his failings. I walked away from the sinful and judgmental convictions that I believed vindicated my hatred.  

God blessed my decision. The following years of my life with my dad until he passed away were the best years of our relationship. I honored him by giving him weight in my life again. We laughed and we talked. We found common ground we shared together. The best of that common ground happened when my dad became a believer in Christ. What a blessing it was to visit about the Lord we had in common.  

Forgiveness is always the best medicine to apply. Not for the person being forgiven, but for the person who is forgiving. The act of genuine forgiving always heals.

That’s because it’s an inward-outward movement. The essential key is self-reflection. Who possesses every right to not forgive me for the wrongs I have committed? It is my Lord. Yet, He forgives me for all my wrongdoings. He honors me by giving me weight in His plans for me. Therefore, who am I that I should not forgive?

The 5th Commandment is the only one which provides a promise from God: “…that your days may be prolonged and that it may go well with you on the land which the LORD your God gives you.”

We should pity the person who refuses to forgive his imperfect parent. Year after year, he refuses to visit his parent, refuses to speak to him. The grudge he bears grows larger with each passing day.

One day, he hears about his parent dying. “Good,” he growls and refuses to go to the funeral. Was his hate buried with his parent? Not at all. It eats at him until he’s also placed in a coffin. Sadly, he whiffed at receiving the blessing God promises for his own life.

Forgiving everyone in our lives is a significant aspect of the easy yoke which Jesus promises to all believers. That truth is amplified when it comes to forgiving our parents. If you treasure anger towards your mom or dad, bury that hurtful treasure in the deepest hole you can find, never to be dug up again. You won’t regret it.