Respect

"He who scorns instruction will pay for it, but he who respects a command is rewarded." Proverbs 13:13

I remember a particular incident that landed me in considerable hot water. I was in the 5th or 6th grade at the time, and was playing the trumpet in the middle school band. My band teacher was a good enough guy, but he had a terrible hair piece. Seriously, it looked as if he had run over a squirrel on the way to work and decided to staple it kind of slanted across the top of his bare pate.

Always the class clown, and with my well documented proclivity towards mischief, I decided to take direct actions against the offending toupee. I carefully concocted a plan in my secret lair (the middle stall of the men’s room, by the gym). The execution was flawless. As the rest of the band, largely unawares of what was about to transpire, practiced diligently at the Aria from Aida, I snuck down from my perch in the brass section. I stealthily flanked around the woodwinds and broke into a trot. I reached the conductor’s stand without incident, and, at the moment of truth, delivered. Spectacular, Spectacular! I grabbed the unruly mop from Mr. J’s head, leapt from the stage, and ran cackling through the multi-purpose room in triumph. [I promise this is going somewhere].

Unfortunately, my planning didn’t involve any sort of disguise, escape plan, or any considerations past the “grab-go- celebrate” stage. I was quickly apprehended by the gym teacher who happened to be passing by, and was firmly escorted to the principal’s office. In the office, words like suspension, detention, and expulsion were bandied about before the truly terrifying suggestion; “make him call his mother!” was injected into the conversation. That latter course of action was settled upon, most likely because they sensed the mortal fear the very thought of it inflicted upon me. My momentary elation in pulling off one of the greatest capers in middle school history was short lived, as Mom quickly arrived on the scene to bring me home. The short ride home was deathly silent, yet my spirits were lifted slightly when we arrived at the house and mom turned to me and said, “Wait till your father gets home.” [See, I told you I’d get somewhere with this] I had hope, not only in the myopic outlook of a 6th grader- “punishment delayed is punishment not suffered”, but also in that surely Dad would be lenient. For how could someone in possession of such refined taste in comedy as my dad (a huge Three Stooges fan), fail to see the humor in this situation.

As you can well imagine, events did not quite play out the way I wishfully imagined them to. In due time, dad arrived home from work. Ordinarily, it was my custom to run out to the car to greet him and help carry in his lunch container and brief case; not this day however. He came in the house and called for me in a tone reserved for only the most serious of offenses- Uh Oh! Reluctantly I came to him, upon which, he grabbed my shirt and with one arm hoisted me bodily from my feet and planted me (rather gently, all things considered) against the wall.
For sure I thought he was going to strike me (though he never had before), and maybe the thought flickered through his mind in that moment, but he didn’t. He held me there for awhile (In reality, no more than a few moments I suspect), and then, in a sad gruff voice he said “You disappointed me son.” Words which stung more than any physical blow could ever have.

We talked at length that night about respect. Rather, he talked and I listened sheepishly. He talked about respect for our elders, respect for authority, and respecting our father and mother. In the months and years since that day, I have learned many lessons about respect, yet none remain as clearly as that one. This blog exists in part because of the deep respect I have for my father and the lessons he taught and continues to teach me.

"Rise in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly and revere your God. I am the Lord." Lev 19:32

"Children, obey your parents in the Lord for this is right." Eph 6:1