February 20, 2020 – Click here to listen
Last night I attended our small group meeting and the group leader who happens to also be the founding pastor of our church read the passage in Ephesians Chapter 6 verse 2 – “Honor your father and mother . . . “ Some discussion proceeded and we were getting ready to move on to the verses dealing with the armor of God and I asked a question.
My father beat me at every opportunity while I was growing up. These were not time-outs or light spankings, but vicious beatings with belt, fists and feet as he kicked and stomped me. I lived in fear at home and would try to hide to get away from him which only made it worse when he found me. He belittled me every chance he got, calling me stupid, idiot, moron, and other names which stripped me of any self esteem I may have had.
It had a very serious effect on me, and I went on to become meaner than him. I started drinking alcohol at 12 and using drugs at 17. I fought nearly every day at school and was in and out of the principal’s office and later jail with regularity. I went from fists to brass knuckles, to a baseball bat and finally a gun. My pent-up rage took me into and out of prison. I was kicked out of the military as a diagnosed sociopath. I had no religious upbringing from him or my mother who was an atheist. My father took his rage out on me but spoiled my only sibling my brother Jim beyond words. He didn’t get the beatings but the way he was raised definitely adversely affected him too and in part I blamed my father for his ultimate suicide.
As I sat there listening to this verse that I should honor him all of this came back to me. As I looked around the room, I supposed that most of the people in the room were raised by God-fearing parents and it made perfect sense for the children to honor their parents, but what happens when you don’t have parents that are worthy of being honored. In fact I wanted to take a short section of two by four and beat him with it to let him know how it felt.
I related to my small group that some 50 years after all of this occurred and I had turned to Jesus I came under conviction one day and forgave my father. (Matthew 6:15 – But if you do not forgive others, then your Father will not forgive the wrongs you have done.) It was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, even though my father had turned to Christ himself during this same period, I couldn’t stand to even look at him. His attitude was that he was a great father and he didn’t want forgiveness because he felt he had done nothing wrong. I sadly shook my head that he could say such a thing; who beats a child when they are a toddler and throughout their impressionable childhood? The only reason he stopped was I got too big and mean myself and wouldn’t take it anymore at which point I left home for good. My forgiveness was not so much for him but for me and whether it had an effect on him was up to him, but I felt I had a big weight lifted off my shoulders when I forgave him.
The pastor spoke of Jesus on the cross and his forgiveness to the ones who had done so many horrible things to Him and it reminded me that when I was agonizing over forgiving him in spite of what he’d done to me, one of the things that helped me was indeed to remember Jesus on the cross looking down on the snarling mob of people and saying, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.”
In effect forgiving my father was a form of honoring him and complying with this command, at least that seemed to be the prevailing attitude in the room.
As we discussed this issue of honoring the dishonorable several others, primarily women in the room spoke of being abused as children and having similar feelings. At the end of the discussion they asked all the people who had experienced a tough time with this verse for whatever reasons to come down to the front where the rest of the people could pray for them to help deliver us from the oppression that we have lived with all of these years. Out of the approximately 40 people who were there, probably half came forward for prayer.
At the end, the discussion centered on where all of this chaos and sadness evolves, and the following verse sums it up. If we are to survive indeed thrive, we must not give Satan the victory. I don’t know why my father hated me from such a young age, but this verse explains it better than most. We are at war with dark powers that are mighty in nature and we must don the armor of God to overcome it. The only offensive weapon mentioned in Ephesians is the sword which represents the word of God. By forgiving my father in spite of what he’d done to me as commanded by His Holy Word I dealt a serious blow and wounded Satan. I’m sure there was applause worthy of a gladiator in heaven for my demonstration of faith and that makes me feel better.
Ephesians 6:12
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.