Honor Thy Father: It's a Commandment, not an Option

The Family Reunion

I remember the day like it was yesterday. We were in Dallas for a family reunion. A family reunion gone all wrong. Let's just say there were too many chiefs and not enough Indians.

It was July 1996, a few months after the death of my mother. My mother's passing had put me in contact with family members I hadn't seen or talked to much since I'd graduated high school, so I was excited about reconnecting.

My estranged husband arrived the day before me and the kids, so my father picked him up from the airport. I felt really awkward because he was living with another woman (his soon-to-be wife), and I knew we were going to be bunking together (yes, sharing the same bed) since my family wasn't aware of the pending divorce or his cohabitation conundrum.

I got through the first day by listening to my daddy fondly recall the time my ex had sent me $60 to buy maternity clothes when I was pregnant with my first child and still living at home. Sadly, more than a decade had passed since that time, and that's the only recollection my father had of him.

No respect

The following morning my stepmother knocked on our bedroom door to tell my husband that he had a phone call. It was his girlfriend. Yes, she had called my daddy's house, and I was livid because my father didn't seem to see anything wrong with this. When I got downstairs, my father and his wife, along with my stepbrothers and stepsisters were sitting in the living room laughing it up and having a good time. And I guess I was suppose to go through the next two days living a lie by pretending to be a happy little family with a man who clearly had no respect for me...OR THEM.

I refused! I packed the suitcases, piled the kids in the car, and headed north.

The Turning Point

My aunt called soon after we got on the road, so we stopped at her place. The so-called family reunion was such a debacle that my daddy and his sidekick ended up at my aunt's house too. It was a turning point in my life. I looked at them as they sat in the wing chairs that were positioned on either side of my aunt's fireplace, and I thought, here sits two men who should have provided and cared for me, and both of them had failed miserably. It was at that point that I decided that they don't owe me anything. I was no longer bitter. I was no longer resentful. And since neither of them had ever made a fuss over me, I learned how to make a fuss over myself.

They didn't owe me anything, but I did owe it to myself to set the standard for what I wanted in a mate. I decided that the next relationship I had would be based on truth, and not a lie.

Don't Block Your Blessings

People often ask me how I can speak so highly of a man who fell short as a father. Well, it's simple, I love him. 1 Corinthians 13:5 teaches us that love does not demand its own way, and it doesn't keep a record of any wrongs. I didn't keep score of the times my father wasn't there for me. All those childhood memories of what my he didn't do have been tossed into the sea of forgetfulness, and that opens me open to be a whole, healed, healthy woman.

Furthermore, I don't want to block my blessings. "Honor Thy Father..." is a commandment, not a option (Exodus 20:12). God didn't specify that I should honor my father based on what he did or didn't do for me. By choosing to be obedient to God's word, I open myself up for Him to operate exceedingly abundantly in my life.

I'm Lisa Maria Carroll, reminding you to take the brakes off God, and watch Him do exceedingly abundantly above all you can ask or think.