He left us. Why should I honour him?
Honouring a father who failed you sounds like calling the wound acceptable. It isn't. Joseph never pretended his brothers meant well — he simply refused to let them write the rest of his life. You can lay the anger down without ever agreeing it was fair. You were never fatherless.
The conversation
The child: “Daddy God, he left us. Why should I honour him?”
God: “What he did was wrong. I won't ask you to pretend it wasn't.”
The child: “Then what does honour even mean?”
God: “Not trust. Not agreement. Not closeness.”
God: “It means his failure doesn't decide who you become.”
The child: “But the anger comes back every time.”
God: “The anger is earned. Held too long, it's a cage.”
God: “Joseph could have ruined his brothers. He had the power.”
The child: “What did he do?”
God: “He let Me write the ending instead of them.”
The child: “Do I have to forgive him?”
God: “Not today. Only decide to set him down.”
The child: “It's just heavy. I'm tired of carrying it.”
The child: “Then I'll set it down. Not for him — for me.”
God: “You were never fatherless.”
"Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee." Exodus 20:12, KJV
This was someone else's conversation. Yours is waiting.
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