Even after many years in ministry, Mother’s Day sermons remain the hardest for me to preach. A few days ago, a young pastor jokingly said to me, “Please don’t cry too much this Mother’s Day.” I replied, “Why would I cry? Only unfilial sons cry.” Then he smiled and said, “We all know you cry because you feel like an unfilial son.”
When I was younger in ministry, my mother would intentionally walk past me while I was preparing my sermon and say, “You should first treat your own mother well.” At the time, it sounded like a joke. But now those words pierce deeply into my heart. After both of my parents passed away, I realized there is no longer even a chance to say, “I’m sorry.”
The Bible says, “Honor your father and mother”—the first commandment with a promise. Honoring parents is not merely a cultural virtue or good manners. It is a commandment carrying God’s promise of blessing. Yet why is it so difficult for us to keep? Perhaps it is because a parent’s love becomes like air to us. We cannot live without air, but because it is always there, we take it for granted.
It was not I, the eldest son, who cared for my mother most closely, but my younger brothers. My mother never wanted to burden me because I am in ministry. Many times, I invited her to live with me, but she firmly refused. She would occasionally visit Atlanta because her grandchildren were there, but by the time I came to New York, signs of dementia had already begun, and she was never able to come.
The Jewish philosopher Abraham Heschel once said, “The elderly need not only memories, but also dreams.” We must help make our parents’ later years not lonely or pitiful, but filled with dignity, love, and honor. We should make Sundays—the day they come to church—the happiest day of their week.
Before it becomes too late…