You've heard it a hundred times, maybe more: "Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged in the land which the Lord your God gives you." It's one of those commandments we think we've got a handle on. Sure, we all had our moments growing up—rolling our eyes at our parents, mumbling under our breath, maybe even shouting something regrettable in a fit of rebellion. But hey, we're adults now, right? We've moved past all that. Or have we?

The Poison in Our Bloodstream

Look around at our world today. Honor is vanishing like a mist in the morning sun, leaving behind a cracked, parched landscape. The headlines scream of rebellion: children defy their parents, students mock their teachers, employees undermine their bosses, and nations rage against God. This isn't just a societal hiccup—it's a full-scale crisis. Honor has become an endangered virtue, and society is buckling under its absence. Dishonor isn't just a personal failing; it's a toxin in the bloodstream of our culture, spreading to every institution and rotting it from the inside out.

What's left in its place? Division, chaos, and rebellion. Without honor, the family—the very backbone of civilization—crumbles. And when families collapse, so does everything else. Schools turn into battlefields of disrespect. Workplaces become breeding grounds for gossip and betrayal. Governments spiral into corruption and self-interest. And even the church, the pillar and support of the truth, becomes entangled in the same dishonor.

Pastors and Twitter Swords

Of all places, you would think the church would be a refuge from dishonor, a city on a hill shining brightly in a culture of darkness. But dishonor has crept into even this sacred space. A recent example illustrates this all too well: the public feud between Douglas Wilson of Moscow, ID, and Brian Sauvé of Ogden, UT. These two pastors, widely respected among young Reformed men, have turned to Twitter to air their grievances with one another. Instead, what should have been private, pastoral conversations have been played out for the world to see—causing sadness, frustration, and angst among their followers.

What makes this so painful is that these men are not just ordinary believers but shepherds of God's flock, men called to model humility, wisdom, and honor. Scripture lays out clear qualifications for elders in passages like Titus 1:7-9 and 1 Timothy 3:1-7. Elders are to be "above reproach," "not quick-tempered," and "hospitable," as Paul writes to Titus. They must be "gentle, not contentious," and "having a good reputation with those outside the church," as Paul exhorts Timothy. These qualifications are not arbitrary; they are God's standards for the men tasked with leading His church and protecting His people.

When pastors engage in public feuds, they call these qualifications into question. How can one be considered "above reproach" when private disputes are played out for all the world to see? How can they model gentleness when their words are wielded like swords, cutting down their opponents online? What message does this send to the world about the church, about Christ, and about the God we serve?

The feud between Wilson and Sauvé is a reminder that dishonor knows no boundaries. It infiltrates homes, governments, workplaces, and even the household of God. If those entrusted with the care of souls cannot resolve their disagreements with grace and discretion, what hope is there for the watching world? Pastors are meant to lead as examples of Christlike humility and unity. When they fail to do so, they tarnish the reputation of the gospel they proclaim and sow division in the body of Christ.

The Foundation of Civilization

Honor is the foundation of every thriving civilization. When it's missing, society becomes like a skyscraper built on sand. The cracks may not appear immediately, but when the storms come—and they always do—the entire structure collapses in a heap of rubble. This is where we find ourselves today, living amid the wreckage of dishonor. Broken families, shattered trust, and societal chaos are the result of a foundation that was never properly laid.

Think about it this way: the home is God's forge for honor. It's where the molten metal of respect, humility, and obedience is heated, shaped, and tempered. But what happens when the forge is abandoned or the metal is left unworked? The tools of society—our relationships, our institutions, our very culture—become brittle, weak, and ultimately useless. The world doesn't just lose its order; it loses its beauty, its dignity, its humanity.

The Ripple Effect of Dishonor

Dishonor is like a drop of oil in a glass of water—it doesn't stay put. It spreads, staining everything it touches. When it festers in our homes, it leaks out into every corner of our lives. The disrespect that begins with a snide comment toward a parent becomes a teenager's rebellion against teachers. That rebellion matures into an adult who scoffs at authority—mocking bosses, rejecting pastors, and ultimately turning their back on God. What starts as a single, seemingly small act of dishonor grows into a tidal wave of chaos that engulfs entire communities.

The feud between Wilson and Sauvé is a sobering example of this ripple effect. Their disagreement doesn't just affect them; it involves the thousands of young men who look up to them, the congregations they shepherd, and the broader Reformed community. When leaders dishonor one another publicly, the body of Christ suffers. The world watches and laughs, thinking, "They're no different from us." It's a tragic witness, and it underscores how urgently we need a restoration of honor—not just in the world but in the church.

Christ, the Redeemer of Honor

Oh, but there is astounding, soul-stirring, world-changing news! Christ, the very Son of God, stepped into the wreckage of our dishonor and bore it all upon Himself. Where we have scorned authority, He perfectly honored His heavenly Father. Where we have shattered relationships with pride, rebellion, and selfishness, He humbled Himself—even to the point of death on a cross (Philippians 2:8). And in doing so, He achieved for us what we could never accomplish: He absorbed the wrath of God, satisfied divine justice, and gave us His flawless righteousness in exchange for our shame.

By His death, dishonor has been defeated. By His resurrection, the ruins of our lives are transformed into glorious monuments of His grace. Christ does not merely patch over the cracks in our lives—He uproots the crumbling, sandy foundation and lays a new cornerstone: Himself (Ephesians 2:20). He doesn’t just clean up the debris of our sin; He builds something breathtakingly new, a holy temple where His Spirit dwells (1 Corinthians 6:19).

Imagine it: the wrecking ball of dishonor that tore through our homes, churches, and culture is utterly stopped in its tracks by the unyielding strength of Christ’s victory. He takes the cold metal of our selfishness and forges it into the blazing warmth of selfless love. He melts down the brittle shards of our pride and remakes them into the gleaming beauty of humility. He tears away our rebellion and clothes us in robes of perfect obedience.

And He doesn’t stop there. Christ’s redemptive work doesn’t just restore what was lost—it goes far beyond. He turns homes fractured by dishonor into havens of peace, where children grow in the nurture and admonition of the Lord (Ephesians 6:4). He transforms churches torn apart by division into radiant cities on a hill, united in love and truth, displaying His glory to a watching world (Matthew 5:14). He even promises that the kingdoms of this earth, marred as they are by dishonor, will one day become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ (Revelation 11:15).

What does this mean for us? It means every failure can be forgiven, every broken relationship can be mended, and every sin-stained heart can be washed clean. Christ’s grace is greater than your worst dishonor. His love reaches deeper than your darkest rebellion. His power is stronger than every chain that binds you. Through Him, you are not just redeemed—you are made new.

And now, through His Spirit, He invites you to join in His work. Your home can be a sanctuary of grace. Your church can be a beacon of hope. Your life can ripple with the kind of honor that restores families, reconciles communities, and reflects the beauty of the Gospel to a broken world. This is the power of Christ—the Redeemer of honor, the Builder of a new creation, and the King whose glory will one day fill the earth as the waters cover the sea (Habakkuk 2:14).

So, lift your eyes to Him, and let your heart sing: Christ is victorious! Christ is restoring! Christ is reigning! Let the world see in your life the honor of the One who gave His life for you. For in Him, and through Him, the ruins of dishonor are replaced with a kingdom that cannot be shaken. Hallelujah!

A Call to Build

And now the question falls to us: how will we respond? Christ has done everything necessary to redeem and restore, but He calls us to participate in this glorious renewal. Look around at your life—your home, your church, your relationships. Where is dishonor still lurking? Perhaps it shows in the way you speak to your spouse or let your children dictate the rhythm of your home instead of stepping up as the leader God has called you to be. Maybe it’s in the grudges you harbor against your parents, the sharp words you use with friends, or the critical spirit that tears others down instead of building them up.

Whatever it is, Christ offers the solution. His grace is sufficient, even for the deepest wounds and the most persistent patterns of dishonor. Repent where you’ve failed. Confess where you’ve fallen short. Lean on Him, trusting in His strength to transform your heart and your home. Let Him make your family, your church, and your life places where honor reigns—not just for your sake, but as a witness to a world that desperately needs to see His truth and grace.

The fifth commandment is about more than obeying Mom and Dad—it’s about building a life and legacy that glorifies God. So, let us respond to His grace with hearts full of gratitude. Let us repent, renew, and rebuild, planting seeds of honor that will ripple out into families, churches, communities, and even nations. In doing so, we reflect the glory of Christ, the Redeemer of honor, and bring His kingdom light into the darkest corners of the world.