“My son, do not forget my law, but let your heart keep my commands; for length of days and long life and peace they will add to you.” Solomon speaks here as a father whose concern isn’t control but continuity, passing on a way of life shaped by trust in the Lord. Forgetting, in Scripture, is never a merely mental lapse but a spiritual drift. To forget God’s Law is to loosen one’s grip on the very Wisdom that steadies life. To keep His commands, by contrast, isn’t simply to store them in memory but to guard them within the heart, allowing them to order desire, to shape judgement, and to steady action. The promise attached to such keeping is striking in its simplicity: not wealth or renown, but length of days, longevity of life, and peace. These aren’t guarantees of ease but gifts of orientation—a life lived within God’s gracious order where meaning outweighs base comforts.
This promise reverberates throughout the Scriptures. The Apostle Paul, reaching back to the Decalogue, reminds the Church that obedience remains woven with blessing: “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. ‘Honor your father and mother,’ which is the first commandment with promise: ‘that it may be well with you and you may live long on the Earth’” (Ephesians 6:1-3). Paul isn’t offering a mechanical formula, as though obedience could purchase longevity. Rather, he testifies to the theological reality that God attaches blessing to the structures He creates. To honor father and mother is to recognize authority as a divine gift rather than a threat to one’s autonomy. Such recognition often yields stability, protection, and a life spared from many self-inflicted wounds born of rebellion.
This same wisdom is articulated with pastoral clarity in the Small Catechism where Martin Luther explains the 4th Commandment not as bare regulation but as an expression of trust in God’s ordering of the world. He writes, “So we have two kinds of fathers presented in this commandment: fathers in blood and fathers in office. Or those who have the care of the family and those who have the care of the country. Besides these there are still spiritual fathers… For the only ones called spiritual fathers are those who govern and guide us by God’s Word… Now, since they are fathers, they are entitled to their honor, even above all others” (LC, I, 158-160). These various types of “fathers” all serve as instruments through whom God provides care and order. To honor such authority is ultimately to honor the God who works through—even in spite of the sin we introduce—to preserve life and peace. Where this trust takes root, peace follows, not only the outward peace of good order, but also the inward peace of a conscience resting within God’s design.
Solomon, Paul, and Luther agree then. God’s commands aren’t arbitrary tests but wise gifts, shaping lives that are ordered, stable, and often marked by long days. This doesn’t mean the obedient are spared suffering, nor that the disobedient are immediately cut down. It means God blesses the paths He gives. For Christians, this promise is finally secured in Christ, who kept the Law perfect where we have not. In Him, failures are forgiven, and obedience is no longer a ladder to climb but a path already cleared. By His Spirit, we learn again to remember what we forget so easily, and in remembering, we’re not only instructed but kept, held within the peace God delights to give His children.
The Lutheran Column 