It was the last evening of our family get-away. We had just finished our evening prayers in the motel room when my four-year-old son asked, "Daddy, what do policemen do for us?"

"They keep bad people from hurting us," I replied, "They help us when we're in trouble. And they stop us if we're driving too fast so we won't get hurt in an accident." Satisfied with my answer, the little guy drifted off to sleep.

A lesson in the fourth commandment

The very next day, as I was driving down the home stretch, the flashing lights of an Ohio state trooper appeared in my rearview mirror. I glanced at my speedometer and pulled over. As the officer approached my window, I fumbled through my wallet to find my driver's license.

It occurred to me that I was about to teach my family a lesson in the fourth commandment. The next words I spoke, for better or for worse, would answer questions like:

"How does Dad act when he does something the policeman says is wrong? And why does he act that way?"

"Who makes the rules? The policeman, my daddy, or someone else?"

"Does my dad have to follow the rules?"

"Who gives the policeman the right to tell my dad what to do?"

As I rolled down the window, my son was about to see me in the role of a child. The officer would play the parent. I could be manipulative. I could turn my children's respect for me against the officer. I could complain, transfer guilt, or make excuses in a play for my family's sympathy. Or I could honor the state trooper because of his "hidden majesty."

Honoring authority

In his Large Catechism, Luther said that we ought to honor our parents because of their "hidden majesty." Parents, teachers, government officials, employers, and church leaders are flesh and blood people. What's more, they are sinful people. That's what's deceptive. If I had probed into the private life of that officer, I'm sure I could have found enough evidence to complain, "After what you've done, you've got a lot of nerve to stand here and tell me how to drive!"

But that's not the point. Earthly authorities have been established by God. God tells us that when we honor and obey them, we honor and obey him. God's majesty is hidden beneath human flesh and bone and sin.

It is not enough to demand that my children obey me. That only gives them the impression that all authority begins and ends with me. There is no hidden majesty. Just my own. When my children are old enough to leave home, they may feel that they can leave behind my beliefs and values as well.

My children must also see their father as one who is under authority. I, too, am conscience-bound by God's Word and will. My son will likely see no more of the hidden majesty in me than I do in that state trooper. One day, I can expect him to play that roadside script back to me in all of its defiance or humility.