Mac Richard - The Gift of Authority

I vividly remember storming off to my room in a wave of adolescent angst, anger, and—obvious to everyone but me—anxiety whenever my mom and I locked horns. Living in the wake of our parents’ divorce, my brothers and I were given free reign to express ourselves and give full vent to whatever emotion we were feeling at any given moment. (Marriage provided a wonderful, welcome cure for that particular temptation.)

And, like every other 17-year-old before and since, I was convinced of my mom’s early-onset dementia, intentionally a-clue-istic perspective, and the faint hope that she would see the error of her ways, repent, and leave the dark side. What I did not realize at the time was the undeniable gift she had given to me that offered the one shard of power I had left.

I don’t remember how soon it was after my dad left, but one night she sat my brothers and me down in our living room. There was no precipitating event, no escalating tirade or tantrum. But, very calmly, she asked us to join her and she began speaking in a very straightforward, calm, almost quiet voice.

She said, “I need you all to understand something. None of us wanted the situation in which we find ourselves.” As an English teacher through and through, even in conversation she couldn’t bring herself to dangle a preposition. She went on.

“But, just because I am not six feet tall and do not have a bass voice does not mean that you all can just do as you please. Through no choice of my own, I am responsible for this home by myself now. And the only way this is going to work is if you all respect my authority. I am completely alone on this thing. And I need you to understand that I need your help. Do you understand?”

I’d love to tell you that from that night forward, from 13 until I left home and got married, I was a model child, honoring my mother so that my days in the land the Lord God was giving me would be long. But that would be a lie. As a matter of fact, I pushed harder against that authority than either of my brothers did. But, I do remember that that night something very precious clicked for me.

And since then, I’ve noticed an immutable law: When I submit to authority as an expression of faith, my life works better. I know that it’s because God is blessing that submission. I know that it is his hand of blessing and not my manipulation of circumstances. But, the net effect is that my life works better.

God-given, God-honoring authority is the vehicle by which God accomplishes his purposes in this world. It’s never heavy-handed, domineering, or oppressive. It is sometimes inconvenient. It is always holding to account. But, because it is rooted in love, it is always affirming, encouraging, challenging.

Comments

[Alex]

Mac,

Great post, thanks. Other than the fact that my mom actually is about 6-feet tall, my home experience was fairly similar, and I found your post encouraging. Keep up the great posts. By the way, I knew your mom from Second Baptist School – terrific lady.