Deuteronomy 5:16
Honour thy father and thy mother, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
Malachi 1:6
A son honoureth his father, and a servant his master: if then I be a father, where is mine honour? and if I be a master, where is my fear? saith the Lord of hosts unto you...
This is a short one for you, my friends, and I pray and hope it is a message that will be of use to you and help you to grow and heal and be strong.
My message for you today is simple. Do you want to throw a monkey wrench into the works of the devil? Do you want to infuriate all the bluehaired college women and government goons and school teachers? Do you want to reverse all the destruction and mayhem of Black Lives Matter?
Here’s how:
Honor your father. And by that I mean, no matter what. You had better find a way to honor your father.
And yes, that includes your ancestors, the generations of fathers who begat you. And it includes your Father in Heaven who created us and breathed life into you and to whom you must return.
But for now, for today, it means your daddy.
Listen, I had a great opportunity in my life once when I was beaten and broken and quite lost. And I found a job in a workplace that, as it turned out, was in the shadow of a small hill upon which about twenty of my ancestors are buried. Among these were men who fought in the Revolutionary War, including a couple of officers. The old graveyard was close enough that I could take my lunch up there on pretty days and sit with the dead and ruminate on their deeds and accomplishments and ponder what they might say at the sight of me and my condition
.
I honestly assessed they would have had much to say about my life. As the old Nike commercial said, They’d have been, like “Dude!” But I let go of that. I wasn’t there to receive judgment. I was there to honor them. And throughout that healing time, I remained aware of the shadows on that hill, and sweated and tried my hardest to honor them. I believe it did me a world of good.
Listen: When all the demons of hell were unloosed in America, not three years ago – the summer of St Floyd, and the fake terror of the Corona Hoax – one mission animated the possessed orcs who rampaged and pillaged our cities all that summer. They were hellbent to destroy each and every monument our country. They stated, naturally, with Confederate memorials, easy pickings as most of the country have been brainwashed into hating these noble giants of history. But inevitably they moved on to other statues with equal wrath. Even accomplished servants of the enemy, men like Sherman or even Lincoln himself, were targeted for destruction.
Do you think those orcs were just randomly picking after flyspecks? I want to tell you, they were on a deliberate and purposeful mission from the devil to diminish our heritage, erase our history and profane our sacred temples. And those scum got away with it, for the simple reason that the Leader has not yet come into his power. When he does, of course, all the orcs will be cut down and new monuments will be built. But that’s a matter for another discussion.
They tore down Lee and Jackson and Davis. But we keep them alive in our hearts. That’s one of our jobs right now. Like pilgrims carrying fire in a gourd, we are keepers of the flame. We should take that extremely seriously.
I speak of Southern heroes because I am a son of Dixie and I honor my fathers. But it shouldn’t make any difference, or not much, what tribe spawned you. You had better honor your fathers.
This is imperative, despite any failings of vice or weakness that may have taken your dad down or caused him to be less than perfect in raising you. Whether he was drunk, or out chasing whores, or obsessed with money and status, of if he hit you too hard or you found out at his funeral he had another wife and family in a near-by town, no matter.
As Jesse Lee Peterson says, you understand that he couldn’t help it, he was in sin and he did the best he could.
Let me give you an example. Charles Manson had a bunch of hot little doped up hippie chicks squatting bra-less in his trailer house in Death Valley. I’ve never heard anyone make this specific claim, but if she spent a summer in a sweat box with a gaggle of teen hotties, that means he most assuredly has some brats out there, now in their fifties, wandering around southern California, perhaps in and out of jail. How can such a bastard honor his father? Here’s a suggestion:
Dad was a great leader who cared for his followers. He took in runaways and gave them everything he had. He spent his entire childhood in and out of jail or being abused by his whore mom’s boyfriends or various cops, but he studied and did everything he could to educate himself. He loved America and worried deeply about his country’s fate. He wrote beautiful songs and tried to share deep, honest feelings with his generation. Etc. etc.
It can be done.
It must be done.
God requires it of you.
He did not put any qualifiers on this.
Honour thy father and thy mother, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
I don’t think it’s even about repentance and confession or making amends somehow. What God wants, first and foremost, is for us to come home.
Look how the Prodigal Son, after all his foolish revelry, was reduced to a state of total dumpster hopelessness, planning to come crawling back on bended knee. And the Old Man was like, yeah, sure, whatever. I’m just so unbelievably glad to see you, we’ll worry about all that other stuff later.
Luke 15:18-24
I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants. And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: and bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry; for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.
Is it too late to be reconciled with your dad?
Are you still breathing?
Is it too late to heal your relationship with your children?
Are you still breathing?
Is it too late to acknowledge your Heavenly Father and be reconciled with Him?
Are you still breathing?
Lance Peckerwood is Senior Editor and feature writer for Dies Irae, a chronicle of the Outpouring of Gad’s wrath upon the earth, and items of general interest to Christian men.