Read

Exodus 20:12 “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” 

Think

The Ten Commandments begin where we might expect: with God. No other gods. No idols. Honor his name. Keep his day. The first four center around our relationship with the Creator. Then suddenly, the focus shifts. Right in the middle, before any talk of murder or stealing or adultery, comes this: “Honor your father and your mother.”

It seems almost out of place. Why would honoring parents come before murder or theft? Why would God put it in the top five, before anything about how we treat strangers or deal with our enemies?

Because this is the first relationship that shapes how we view all others.

Before we ever hear the voice of a teacher, a boss, or a pastor, we hear the voice of a parent. Before we understand laws or policies or theology, we live in the environment created by the people who raised us. Whether it was warm or distant, stable or chaotic, full or fractured, your family shaped your sense of love, authority, safety, and identity.

This is not a small thing. It is a sacred one.

The word “honor” in Hebrew is kabed—it means to give weight to something, to treat it as important or substantial. It is the opposite of treating something lightly. To honor your parents is to say, “Your role in my life matters. I will treat it as meaningful. I will not ignore, dismiss, or mock it.”

This is not about sentiment. It is about substance.

That is why God makes this the first human-centered commandment. Because if we do not learn how to honor our parents—the people who gave us life—we will struggle to honor anyone else. Authority will feel threatening. Correction will feel offensive. Relationships will feel shallow. Honor begins in the home.

It is also worth noting that this is the only commandment tied directly to a promise: “that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” This is not a guarantee that those who honor their parents will live to ninety-five. It is a principle that when families are strong, communities flourish. When honor lives at home, it spreads into culture. When children learn to value parents, they grow into adults who value people.

God is not asking us to pretend our parents are perfect. He is not asking us to overlook real wounds or bypass necessary boundaries. What he is asking is that we treat the people who gave us life as weighty. Not infallible. But significant. Not always right. But not irrelevant either.

For a child or teenager, honoring might look like obedience with the right attitude. It means listening without eye rolls, doing chores without slamming doors, receiving correction without argument. But for an adult, honor shifts. It looks like remembering. Making the call. Writing the card. Including them in your life. Choosing not to publicly belittle them, even if you disagree with their decisions.

Sometimes it looks like helping meet needs as they age. Sometimes it simply means letting go of bitterness that has lived too long in your soul.

That is what makes this command both beautiful and difficult. Because not every parent lived honorably. Some abandoned. Some abused. Some manipulated or neglected. This command was not written in ignorance of that. It was given because God knows our temptation will be to write people off entirely. He also knows that if we do not learn to deal with that pain in a redemptive way, it will harden us and poison other relationships too.

Honor is not the same as closeness. You may not have a healthy or safe relationship with a parent. But you can still choose to speak about them with dignity, to pray for them, to release them to God. You can decide that bitterness will not be the final word.

Honor is not agreement. You can disagree strongly with how you were raised and still treat your parents with respect. It may mean keeping distance, but it does not require contempt. It means choosing grace when anger is easy.

This command also speaks to spiritual parents. Some people did not grow up with biological parents who were present or loving, but God brought mentors, leaders, teachers, or friends into their lives to stand in the gap. Honoring those people matters too. They may not share your DNA, but they helped shape your direction.

At its core, this commandment is about building a culture of honor. A life where people are treated as valuable, not disposable. A heart that chooses to remember where it came from, even if it has moved far beyond where it started.

God places this command in the middle of the ten, bridging love for him and love for others. He starts at the root. He goes to the foundation. Because a culture that knows how to honor parents will be a culture that learns how to honor others, too.

The home is the first classroom for the heart. It is where we learn patience, boundaries, discipline, kindness, truth. And whether that classroom was healthy or broken, God meets us there. He calls us to respond not just with emotion, but with intention. To treat parents not as perfect people, but as part of the divine story of how we came to be.

To honor is to give weight. To honor is to say, “You mattered.” And in a world that loves to discard, God calls his people to remember.

Apply

Take a few minutes today and reflect: what does honoring your parents look like in this season of your life? If they are living, is there a small act of kindness or communication you can offer this week? If they are gone, consider writing down a few ways their role shaped you—for better or worse—and bring that reflection into prayer. Honor begins with awareness.

Pray

God, thank you for giving me life through my parents. Even if my story with them is complex, help me to honor them with humility and grace. Teach me what that looks like at this stage of life. Help me speak with wisdom, remember with compassion, and walk with integrity. I want to build a life that reflects your heart for honor. In Jesus’ name. Amen.