When I was 12 years old, I went to a new school that was much different from the public school I had attended before. For starters, it was an all boys’ school—but this was soon overshadowed by a deeper lesson.

As I walked in to the main building of the institution, there was a giant school seal built into the marble floor. It was only a few steps in front of the door; it covered the entire center of the room—and no one was allowed to step on it. I attended this school for seven years and never saw anyone step on the school seal. Often times dozens of people would pour through that area at a near sprint on their way to class, all of them dutifully curving around the seal on the floor. It was a question of respect—a question of authority.

This message about respect for the institution was sent clearly before I ever attended the school. I had to work my way around that seal to get into the office to take my entrance exams.

Once I began attending the school, we wore a jacket and tie. I had always worn a tie to Church, but every tie I owned was a clip-on; I had never learned to tie a real tie, and clip-ons were forbidden. So I learned. This too was about respect for the institution we represented—an acknowledgment that we were part of something greater than ourselves.

If a student was not wearing their jacket as he walked down the hall, he could be assured that he wouldn’t make it far before hearing those four words: Put your coat on. You’re standing in St. Louis Country Day School. You show respect for this institution by putting your coat on. While people sometimes tested that boundary, I certainly never saw anyone walk down the hall with their tie off. It would have been unthinkable.

I remember the first day of classes and my surprise as the students stood up when the teacher walked in the room. One of your mentors has entered the room. Out of respect for the office they held as teachers, we stood—and stood quietly. No one spoke or moved until permission was given. To do otherwise would have sent us to the principal’s office. We held a forum in the mornings with about 500 students in one of the fine old buildings on campus, Danforth Chapel. When the speaker stepped onto the stage, the entire audience stood—and you could have heard a pin drop.

By showing respect to that authority, we showed respect to the institution they represented. We must learn to show an even greater respect for the institutions and offices God has put in place.

Remember the instruction God gave Moses at the burning bush: “And when the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called unto him out of the midst of the bush, and said, Moses, Moses. And he said, Here am I. And he said, Draw not nigh hither: put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground” (Exodus 3:4-5).

In Which Day Is the Christian Sabbath?, Herbert W. Armstrong wrote: “Now suppose Moses had been like most people today. He probably would have argued: ‘Well, Lord, I don’t see where it makes any difference where I take off my shoes. I don’t want to take them off here, on this ground. I’ll wait and take my shoes off a mile down the way.’

“Had Moses rebelled and said that, he would have never been used to lead God’s people out of Egyptian slavery.

“And why? Well, what made that particular bit of ground holy? God’s very presence was in that ground! God is holy! God’s presence in that bush made the ground around it holy!

“The ground a mile away was not holy. Why did it make any difference whether Moses took off his shoes—or where? Here is why! The ground where he then stood was holy. He was required, by God, to treat holy ground with a respect he did not treat other ground.”

Moses was called the meekest man on Earth. God knew Moses would respect the things He put in place.

I loved St. Louis Country Day School. I understood thoroughly that I was part of something special, that I had an obligation to bring honor to that institution and its legacy.

At the same time, on the weekend, I would walk into a meeting room at the Ramada hotel just off the highway and walk into a greater institution—the place where God had placed His name. God has placed His presence in our Church, even in the Sabbath day itself. We certainly don’t want to trample on God’s seal.

In “No Small Thing,” Wilbur Malone wrote: “If you ever notice a lack of respect creeping into your life toward God’s government, authority, the ministry, deacons or the membership, Satan is behind it. He is our formidable foe, our very real enemy. He knows that you need a high regard and respect for God’s government to become a part of the Family of God. Don’t let him use this device on you” (Philadelphia News, January-February 1999).

When you go to Church, everyone—ministry and teenagers alike—adhere to the dress standards. At Armstrong Auditorium, the ministers do not set things on the wood or carry a cup of coffee into the theater or use crayons on the chairs. They follow the rules in Armstrong Auditorium just like everyone else because this is the Church of the Almighty God, and this is His House. To do less would not show respect for the institution that God Himself put in place.

There has never been a group of young people with more opportunity than you have in God’s Church. There has never been a group of young people with more reason to give gratitude to God and to show Him how much respect you have for His institutions. That’s certainly not because there is anything special about you or me. It’s because God is special.

And that God who appeared to Moses places His very presence in the Sabbath day. He tells us to treat His ministry as being worthy of double honor (1 Timothy 5:17). He gives us congregations, and pyc and Imperial Academy and other blessings—even our families. In return, He expects us to respond with the same sort of humility and respect Moses did.

That is how it must be in all of our lives, showing profound respect for something greater than ourselves: the institutions and offices of our amazing Father in heaven—institutions He has allowed us to join.