The last few weeks, my dad (who happens to be my pastor) has been preaching through the Ten Commandments. He recently covered number five–the first commandment to contain a promise. Now, he had plenty of material to get through with the focus he chose, and he said up front he wasn’t even going to touch on how to honor parents who don’t meet a basic definition of good. Namely:

The ones who abandon their kids.

The ones who abuse and misuse.

The ones who neglect.

The ones who hurt.

I totally get why he focused where he did–but I also wanted to say, “No, say more! Talk about that too!” LOL. Because let’s face it.

Far too many people today don’t have good parents. They don’t have parents who make it easy to honor them. So how are they to obey that commandment?

First, a disclaimer: my parents are awesome. They have always been there with love and encouragement. They taught me to honor God and value family. So in no way do I have firsthand experience with this topic. But I do have secondhand experience. I have friends and family who have to ask this question. It’s also a question I’ve had to deal with when I wrote Giver of Wonders, in which my heroine’s father all but forces his daughters into prostitution (not exactly uncommon in the ancient world, sadly). It made me view things in a new way, to be sure.

So. The fifth commandment.

As Paul points out in Ephesians 6, this is the first commandment that promises something in return for obedience: that your days may be long upon the land. Have you ever paused to consider why honoring your parents carries the promise of a long life?

I think there are several sides to it. First of all, in the ancient world, parents had the right of life and death over their children. Even into New Testament days in the Roman Empire, a father could at any point in time kill his children with no consequences, because they were considered his property. So there’s a simple logic to this–honor your parents, because they could kill you if you don’t, LOL. Dishonoring them, even in the Law of Moses, could result in stoning. But at a certain point–the point where your life starts to stretch out too long upon the land–it’s not your parents you’re still probably worried about. It’s your kids. And where will your kids have learned how to treat you? By watching how you treat your parents. They hear every sigh, every grumble, see every eye roll, and they pay attention. If we treat our parents with disrespect, that’s the lesson our kids are going to internalize in how they should treat us.

But that’s assuming they see us getting to treat our parents in any way–it’s assuming they’re there. What about when the parents are absent? Or cruel? Abusive? Selfish?

I think it’s worth noting the word Moses uses here. Honor. As my dad pointed out in his sermon, the Hebrew word used here implies a weight. Responsibility. Burden. It’s heavy business. Note that it does not say “obey.” That’s the word we often use, especially in “quick and easy” translations for our kids. “Obey your parents!” Pointed look. But that’s a whole different word. Obedience might be part of honoring–sometimes, especially when the kids are younger. But as they age? Whole different thing there. As we grow into adults and have kids of our own, it’s not a matter of obeying our parents’ every command anymore. It’s a matter of treating them with respect, of accepting the burden of care for them as they grow weaker.

How to do that with a parent with whom you have little to no relationship? As I struggled with this question in Cyprus’s story, the only good answer I could find was that she needed to fight for her father’s soul, even when he’d given up. She disobeys his direct word in order to minister to him and care for him. She prayed for him. She loved him in a way he’d never loved her–selflessly, with an agape love.

The question came up for me again in my most recent release An Hour Unspent. Barclay, a now-reformed thief, has spent his life creating a family of fellow orphans, and he’s taught them all the lessons his mother taught him: we never steal from family, we never give stolen items as gifts, we always look out for each other. But when he eventually comes face to face with his mother again in the story, he’s in for a surprise. Because the things she taught him, that he believes and espoused, had only been conveniences for her–ways to keep him in line and doing what she wanted him to do. The woman he sees now is a user, one who only sees what she can gain from any situation. How is he supposed to honor her, when she’s not only undeserving but will harm the family he’s adopted?

This is going to look different in every situation. Sometimes, I think it’s very important to maintain distance, for the sake of the families of which we’re the head. We have to protect our kids from people who will hurt them. But we also want them to see us trying. Maybe that means praying for that absent or abusive parent every day. Maybe it means offering financial support in a safe way–not to enable them to drink or smoke or shoot it away, but to keep a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. Maybe it means encouraging them to get help.

Regardless, it’s going to mean forgiving them for the wrongs they’ve done us and the hurt they’ve caused. That may be the hardest thing. The heaviest thing. But that’s what honor is about–and it wasn’t a command given only in regards to deserving parents. It was a command given in regards to all parents. 

It’s easy to love those who love us, right? Our true test comes in how we treat our enemies–and sometimes, sadly, that’s our own families. Until we do that–until we can do that–we’ll be teaching our kids that bitterness is okay. That when someone deserves our disrespect, that’s what we ought to give them. 

But that’s how the world acts. We want to #BeBetter. We want to show them a better way–a way that exemplifies Christ. A way that loves the unlovable and forgives the unforgivable. Because that is the only way we grow. That’s the only way we change the world–by showing the next generation how to treat those who hurt us. 

When we honor, we prove ourselves worthy of honor. And that’s how we live long upon the land.

Amazon | Signed from my store | Barnes & Noble

Amazon | Signed from my store | Barnes & Noble | CBD

I’m by no means the first person to tackle this subject, and no doubt others have done it better than me. But last week when I wrote about “Actions, Reactions, and Being Better,” I had an anonymous comment accusing me of “woman shaming/blaming.” Another of those phrases that has been tossed around and turned into a fad, but which I think is often misunderstood.

But you know what? Part of the goal to #BeBetter is to know what shame is and why sometimes we need it.

First, let’s cover where shame is bad and where you will NOT find me doing me.

Here’s the definition of shame (the noun) according to Merriam-Webster, the writer’s go-to dictionary:

1: a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety

    b

: the susceptibility to such emotion //

have you no shame?

2

: a condition of humiliating disgrace or disrepute : ignominy

// the shame of being arrested

3a

: something that brings censure or reproach

also

: something to be regretted : pity // 

it’s a shame you can’t go

 
b

: a cause of feeling shame

One of the reasons I love writing historicals is to show that the heart of humanity has never changed. No matter whether you’re talking about ancient Egyptians or modern Americans or anything in between, there are a few things that we will always seek–our dreams, our goals, our pleasures, family, love, escape from the things we fear.

But we think we’ve changed. Evolved. Graduated out of certain things. I wonder though. I wonder if we have.

This has been quite a year so far, hasn’t it? Gun violence, sexual impropriety, you name it. We’ve had the #metoo movement, new scandal in the Catholic church, and the Christian publishing industry is rumbling with harassment charges and other improprieties brought to the fore as well.

And my heart hurts. Not just for the women who have suffered (though of course, I ache for them). Not just for the men who may have been accused unjustly but will not be given an “innocent until proven guilty” look from anyone again. Not just for the victims and families ripped apart by violence. Not even just for the church that keeps taking a pounding.

I ache for humanity, who has still not learned that it’s not enough to react.

I’ve been chewing on these thoughts for weeks, months, and I’m still not sure I can adequately put them into words, but I want to try. I want to try so that you can add your words and thoughts, and others can add theirs, and maybe at some point, someone will hit upon something that will actually allow for change.

At any rate, here is what I keep coming back to:

Reacting isn’t enough.

Treating the symptoms isn’t enough.

As long as this is all we do, we’re going to keep on doing it forever, because nothing is ever going to change.

It isn’t enough to tell men, “You hurt me.” It isn’t enough for others to say, “Now you’ll be punished.” We have to first teach people what is sacred, to have respect. We have to change the heart–not just the actions. Both are required to achieve real change in society–teaching first, enforcement second.

The idea of “sexual freedom” has led us so quickly to this, and I will never believe anyone who tells me otherwise. A generation of women has systematically broadcast the message that sex isn’t something sacred, their bodies aren’t something to be respected, and since it’s just fun, why not indulge whenever you want? On their terms, of course. Only ever on their terms.

But when something is offered more or less freely–free of consequences, free of entanglements, free of stigma, free of judgment–it’s only one short step down to thinking it’s something you don’t even have to ask for, right?

And from a society that thinks sex is something to be enjoyed whenever they please, it’s only one short step down from thinking it’s something they have a right to take whenever they please. And from there, one more step down to thinking they should take it whenever they please, from whomever they please. Should they, do they? No. But that’s the message the people of this age have received.

Why?

Because that’s what they’ve been taught. We’ve gone from tolerating to accepting to applauding sexual promiscuity in both men and women. We fantasize about it and champion it. And then we’re outraged when it’s abused and misused.

Yes, the abuse and misuse is terrible. I hate it. But just reacting with outrage will NEVER change it.

Let’s turn for a second to the church. You know what was in the headlines the week before 9/11? Sexual scandal in the Catholic church. And that certainly wasn’t the first time it hit the news. This has obviously been around for a long, loooooong time. Why? Because instead of being dealt with, the accused priests are just moved somewhere else, and the hierarchy accuses the media of sensationalizing and attacking. There are people who have admitted they became priests SO THAT they could prey on people with no consequences, knowing if they were caught and accused, they’d simply be moved elsewhere. I’m sure those cases are few. But the fact that they exist at all points to a major flaw in the system that the church doesn’t seem inclined to correct.

So how do we fix it? That’s the question, right? How to teach people to respect each other? How do we teach people that some things are sacred? How to make them actually change?

This seemed like a really hard question to answer until I read Love Does and Everybody Always by Bob Goff. He presented an answer to this very question that is both ridiculously simple and ridiculously hard. LOVE THEM.

At the end of his second book, Mr. Goff talks about witchdoctors in Uganda. These are people who have been hated and feared since the dawn of time. So feared that even the justice system never dared to arrest and accuse and try them. Until finally they did, and justice finally began to move.

But that wasn’t enough. Because it only reacted to the problem. It treated the symptoms. It didn’t cure the disease. So they started educating the witchdoctors. They started loving them. They started telling them that God loved them too. And you know what? Now the people who were once sacrificing children, are saving them.

This is the power of love. This is how real change is made. We teach people to respect life, to respect each other, to love each other. We show them the better way–and we punish those who abuse it. Quickly and effectively. We demand of each other that we Be. Better.

I joked to my best friend that instead of just #MeToo, we needed the hashtag #StopBeingASchmuck or maybe #BeBetter. The first was just me being silly, but the second has some truth in it. It isn’t easy to be better. But if it’s something we desire, it’s achievable. First, though, we have to inspire that desire.

Let’s love each other. Let’s love the monsters as well as the victims because it’s those who deserve it least who end up valuing it most. Those forgiven much will love much. Let’s teach each other that love comes first, and that where there is love, there is respect. There is sanctity. And where there is love, respect, and sanctity, there is the Good.

We can’t just keep reacting. We have to #BeBetter.

Wondering if I’ve ever dealt with issues of sexual abuse or misuse of power in my books? Here are a few of my stories that have heroines who have been forced into such situations and experience the healing power of a God who is love and the people who choose to embody Him.

In A Stray Drop of Blood, Abigail is a slave forced to the bed of her master. She doesn’t speak up because she doesn’t think she has a voice, and she fears the consequences if she does. But Abigail learns that even in her darkest hour, her God really does hear even her. Purchase a signed copy HERE.

In Jewel of Persia, Kasia finds herself a member of a harem–one of many women not just in her husband’s past, but in his present. How can she love a man who doesn’t value the sacred union like she does? Purchase a signed copy HERE.

In The Reluctant Duchess, Rowena suffers what today would be classified as date rape. And her father’s answer is to try to make her marry the man who attacked her. She ends up accepting the help of another man–a kind, Godly man–but learning to trust him is no easy task. Purchase a signed copy HERE.