What ever happened to honor? Or even, dare I say, honoring authority? I'll be the first to admit that I had a lot to overcome in my attitudes in this area. My dad, of all people, reared me to question all authority, and that concept was permeated with distrust and suspicion. In his defense, he was trying to teach me to be an independent, critical thinker, but I gained a great deal of lawlessness with it, because the principle alone is lawless, or rebellious. I used to think rebellion was a good thing. Can you believe it? Then experience taught me that the chaotic self-indulgence of a rebellious life leads to a broken sense of self, and to confusion, cynicism, and insecurity.
When Jed and I were first married, I would drive him to work before heading to my job. One fall morning, we were late (you know it wasn't his fault), and I was speeding, trying to weave through traffic on a 40-mile-per-hour city street. I have a lead foot if anyone does, and believe it or not, I inherited that from my tiny, sweet, white-haired mother. Fortunately for her, she has a knack for getting out of traffic tickets. I, however, do not, as that cold morning demonstrated. (In a moment, you'll see why.) The officer that had the audacity to pull me over asked me for my phone number. Overcome with tremendous frustration, I tearfully blubbered it under my breath, punctuated by gasps and gulps. We could not afford a traffic ticket.
"What was that last bit?" the policeman asked again, glancing up from his pad a little stunned.
"SIX! FIVE! ONE! FOUR!" I shouted at him between sobs. You know he was thrilled to be standing, on what was possibly his first stop of the morning, face to face with hysteria and madness. I'm sure he was cold, too.
My husband is the quiet, consistent one, and he'd never been stern with me. Until that fateful day. As I drove away at 13 miles an hour, I was ready for him to commiserate with me about how dumb it was that I couldn't break the law and get away with it--when I heard an unfamiliar tone in his voice:
"I can-not. Be-lieeeeeve. You shouted at that officer."
What? Was he on crack? And who calls them "officers?"
Betrayed and embarrassed, I realized that my handsome new husband was, after all, a menacing, hateful man who would harass me till death do us part. Great.
Then that squirmy feeling started turning in my belly. He had offended me. But he was right. It so thoroughly went against my pre-programmed perspective up to that point that his words blind-sided me. It didn't matter. He was still right. From this new angle, I couldn't believe how ridiculous my behavior had been, which annoyed me even more.
Oh, why does it really matter? Well, let's see. First of all, I was acting like a selfish, bratty juvenile. Never pretty. Isn't that typically the underlying attitude when we're disrespectful? Secondly, authority is part of the system of having and maintaining order for the good of all. So I can be that selfish brat and think, "It's not going to hurt anyone if I speed a little bit. What are the odds?" Ah, but if everyone decides their singular life is more important than the whole, we've suddenly got a lot of speeding, light-running brats on our hands. I don't want to live in that place: car crashes and bad attitudes and entitled demands everywhere! The beauty of showing honor is that it's part of our way of transcending our own lives, of getting outside ourselves, of saying, "OK, so I'm going to be late today, so maybe tomorrow I'll get my bum out of bed and out the door on time like a responsible adult." There's power in not being self-absorbed and in recognizing that the greater good is more important than our singular existence.
So do I say "ma'am" and "sir" even though I'm in my thirties? You bet, and I teach my kids to do the same. Do I allow my children to call adults solely by their first names? Nope. Do I dress like a bum when I go to church since that seems to be the current trendy thing to do? Not a chance. I make a decided effort to dress in deference of the occasion just as I do when attending a wedding or another special ceremony. And do I address police officers in a calm, respectufl manner? *with a sheepish glance at Jed*: You better believe it!
This idea of honor and getting beyond ourselves touches so many aspects of our lives including how we allow our children to behave as members of our family and the overall manners we use as a means of being polite to those around us. I learned an important lesson that day in the cold car with my new handsome husband, and in case you were wondering, he's not so hateful and menacing after all.
*This story is not really a service recap as I intend them but it's the direction I took in response to the service in which my apostle talked about honor and truly honoring Yahweh.
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