Statue

I had to go to the circuit court last week to take care of my dad's affairs in probate.  The woman who helped me was so kind and caring.  She made small talk with me and the process was much less painless than I had thought it would be.  I thanked her for making it simple and she told me I should thank my dad.

The process was painless until I got outside.  As I exited the building, an overwhelming feeling of loss came over me.  Every last thing that I do is exactly that, the last thing.  I am taking care of things for my dad for the last time and the gravity of the moment was intense.

Melancholics don't need glum and dreary days to feel pensive.  It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining.  It had actually been dreary earlier on, but the skies opened up and the sun shone down as I approached Williamsburg (was there a hidden message there for me?).  As I approached my car, I passed a statue of a Native American.  I put some of my stuff in the car and I wanted to stretch the moment out longer.  I wanted to sit in the sunshine, soak it in, sit in my sadness and let it wash over me for a few moments longer.

So, I went over to the statue to read the plaque underneath.  It was Powhatan, whom the plaque said was responsible for the survival of the first settlement at Jamestown (do you think his ancestors might be pissed?).  Here was this statue, life-sized, standing above all who would come within its vicinity.  A man whom we read about in history books, at least if we're from Virginia.  He played an integral part in survival for many who would go on to take advantage, abuse, and steal from his tribe and many others, or at least pave the way for more to come who would do those things.  But I digress.  Powhatan marks that spot and that statue will be there for a long time.

The contrasting picture was my visit to the cemetery later on.  As I approached the crypt where my parents are laid, the flowers were gone.  There was no evidence that just a week and a half ago that crypt had been opened to receive its second guest.  All that was there was a plate which still hadn't been completed.  Names.  Dates.  A verse.  A cross.  Praying hands.  A saying.  That's it.  No statue looming over all who would come near.  Not description of what these two people had done.

It seemed a little unjust to me.  I didn't know Powhatan.  How could I have?  He lived way before my time.  But I did know my mom and dad.  They had an influence on me and on many others.  Could we have said more on that plate than what we did?  Could we have given people a better picture of all that they had done?

Then I began to think, that's not the job of a grave plate.  That's my job.  That's my legacy, actually, it's their legacy living through me.  I will not forget.  I will remember.  I will live out that legacy and let others know the contributions that they made in my life, and so will others.  A statue is tall and cold, lifeless, unspeaking.  I am living and breathing, proclaiming, exemplifying what was invested into me by my parents.

There is no statue, but there is me, there are my children.  We are the monuments, the memorials of my parents as we live our lives through what they taught me, taught us.  My parents invested into people for the sake of Jesus Christ.  I invest in people for the same reason.  Christ has made a difference in my life, he made a difference in the life of my parents.  It would be a crime for me not to proclaim something that has had such a significant impact on me.  I am a living legacy.  If you want to know my parents, get to know me.  I can tell you stories, or better yet, I can live out what they passed on to me.  That's much better than anything a statue can do.

Finishing Well

Joe Paterno.  Seems like the name along conjures up some fairly strong emotions these days, no longer just in central Pennsylvania or with college football fans.  Paterno coached the Nittany Lions football team for 26 seasons before he was fired amidst allegations of “looking the other way” when one of his assistant coaches was charged with sexual abuse.  He lost his battle to cancer at the age of 85 and some might think that a merciful end for a man whose legacy is now marred with decisions that he made…or didn’t make.

Now, not only has his reputation been marred by his sins of omission, but his legacy at Penn State is more than in jeopardy.  The statue outside Beaver Stadium has been removed, all that is left is empty concrete with the hint of what used to be there.  The statue of Paterno and the players that followed him has been removed.  Sanctions are being imposed on the university and it seems there are efforts to wipe even the memory of Paterno from the history books, or at least remove any indication that he was at Penn State from the eyes of any and all who might come onto campus.

Here are the words from CNN.com's story, "Within 24 hours, Joe Paterno's statue at Penn State University came down and his record as the winningest coach at the top level of college football disappeared.  The steps by Penn State President Rodney Erickson and the National Collegiate Athletic Association drew sharply differing reactions Monday. They are the latest impact from a child sex-abuse scandal now linked forever to the university's storied football program.  Paterno's family and diehard Penn State loyalists condemned the penalties as an overzealous response that unfairly targeted the former coach, who died of lung cancer in January after being fired the previous November to end his 46-year career at the university." (For the rest of the story, click here: http://www.cnn.com/2012/07/23/us/penn-state-reaction/index.html?hpt=hp_t2 )

Sports can flesh out some fairly charged passions and emotions in people.  Big schools with big sports programs can have some pretty big fans and Penn State is no exception.  As time goes on, I am sure that more and more information will be revealed about things that happened behind the scenes at Penn State.  There have been accusations of favoritism shown to athletes, but that’s nothing new in colleges today.  It seems that stories are always emerging about the antics of athletes, both collegiate and professional. 

But the emphasis of sports in America and in our schools is most likely fodder for another blog post, not this one.  The real question that I have is regarding the latest debate at Penn State over the removal of Joe Paterno’s statue from the stadium.  Are the sins and indiscretions of this man whose undeniable football legacy enough to warrant the removal of a statue honoring what he accomplished?  Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

I’m not condoning what Paterno did in his covering up, at worst, or looking away from, at best, the vile behavior of one of his coaches.  In fact, it stirs up in me a common question that I have asked myself over the last few years: how do we finish well?

Regardless of Paterno’s accomplishments in football, this is the last and only thing some people will remember.  Despite his success, there are certain people who can’t look past this.  It’s not like this is the only time something like this has happened either.  While I hesitate to compare the significantly different behavior, Pete Rose is still vying for a place in the Baseball Hall of Fame after the mistakes that he made in the end of his career.  Regardless of what Rose accomplished, his legacy is marred and may never be cleared up because of how things ended.

Paterno died too soon for anyone to fully understand or see how he would be reacting to all of this.  There is no way for Paterno to issue a public statement.  He can't hold a press conference and express his deep regret and offer apologies to the families of the victims.  He can't submit himself to discipline in order that he might try to make amends for what has been done.

The other night at dinner, I scolded my 3 year old for some of his behavior.  He turned his back towards me and said, "You can't see me doing this."  I was shocked and surprised that he would even consider that and my wife reminded him that we do the right thing regardless of whether we think someone is watching or not.  That's the definition of character, right, who you are when you think nobody's watching you?

Over the last decade, I have seen my fair share of people's lives end, not the least of which was my mom.  As the end drew near, my observance grew stronger and I watched to see how these people would finish.  The Apostle Paul likened life to a race that we run.  It's certainly no sprint, it's a long distance run.  In long distance runs, it's essential to pace yourself.  If you don't, you will find yourself not finishing well.

Of the many people who I've observed at the end of their life, there were some who finished well and others who didn't.  I recall a man who had been on the beach of Iwo Jima and survived.  He had a reputation in his earlier life for being a great Bible teacher.  I was not privileged to have observed that earlier part of his life, all that I experienced was the way that he fed many ill feelings of the members of his Sunday School class who were less than satisfied with changes taking place within the church.  He stirred up controversy and promoted division.  He did not finish well.

Paterno did not finish well.  His reputation in the future will constantly be remembered not by what he did, but by what he didn't do.  I am holding no stones.  I have failed enough in my lifetime to know better.  But what I can do is strive to finish the race well.  I can live my life consistently and choose to learn from the mistakes of those who have gone before me.  I do not want mistakes that I make or sins that I commit to mar any and every memory of whatever else I might have done in my life.

May we all learn a valuable lesson from this, not by casting stones, but by living our lives differently.

My Father

All of us have a story, I am no different and neither is my father.  As I reflect on this Father's Day, I can't help but think about my own father.  In his nearly 70 years, he has been through an awful lot.  While he is human and has made his share of mistakes, I am so grateful for what he and my mom taught me and how they raised me.  I am the man that I am today because of the sacrifices that my parents made for me and on this Father's Day, I am grateful for my father, Tony Gibson.

My father grew up in Brooklyn in the 1950's and when he was a teenager, his father left due to alcoholism.  That event played such a significant event in his life that he eventually committed his life to ministry and focused on helping others who were impacted by addiction.  He used his own experience to help others.

When I was young, I would stand at the door of the church after the Sunday morning church service, right next to Dad, shaking people's hands as they walked out.  More than one person joked about me being the "little pastor."  Turns out that they were more right than they probably realized.  Although I fought hard against the call of God on my life, I eventually conceded to the fact that this was what I was made for, just like my father before me.

The church wasn't always a kind place to my dad.  He experienced more than a little bit of heartache through the years at the hands of well-meaning people within the church.  Yet he always continued to give and serve, seeing the best in people when nobody else was willing to do so.  He showed grace to those who many had given up on.  When he retired, he left a trail of lives that had been touched and changed because of the impact and influence that he had had on them.

That retirement came in November 2010 for him and my mom, and in a matter of months, they were handed more change than even change junkies might be able to handle.  Dad lost his church, his career, his home, and his health.  Mom had had health issues over the years but it was topped off in January 2011 with the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.  Eventually, Mom lost her battle with cancer and Dad lost her too.  All the plans that they had made of retiring and spending time with their grandchildren were but a mist, disappearing into the clouds of a new day.

Despite all that he went through, I still think Dad did the best that he could.  I know that he is far from perfect.  He didn't always excel as a father, a husband, and a pastor, but he did his best.  The problem with our culture and society is that people aren't judged for how they do with what they have been given, they're judged in comparison to everyone else.  A lot of people are going to fall pretty short when that kind of comparison happens.  Dad has done the best with what he's been given, which hasn't always been a lot along the way.

I have nothing but love for my father.  He has left a legacy that he can see in his grandchildren.  They love him and I love him.  There are plenty of people in this world who haven't been blessed with good fathers, I am thankful for the gift of a father that I have been given.

I don't know what kind of father you have or had.  Maybe you were as blessed as I have been, or maybe not.  I know that I have another Father who is perfect, who never fails.  He's the same Father that my dad has as well.  He's always there, always listening, and always forgiving.  Any time that I try to compare myself with someone, I remind myself that I will always fall short in comparison to the greatest Father of all time.

On this Father's Day, take time to remember your dad.  If he's still alive, give him a call and let him know how much you love him.  Thank him.  If things haven't been good between you, take the time to look for restitution and redemption.  I have learned a lot from my dad and I have done what I can to pass those things on to my kids.  I've done my best to learn from successes and failures, because when we don't learn from failures, we may be destined to repeat them.

I am a grateful son and an adequate father.  My hope and prayer is that my children know that I love them and would do anything for them.  I hope and pray that they might see beyond me and my failures to another Father who will not disappoint them the way that I inevitably will.  I hope and pray that they can pass on the good things that I've taught them and learn from my mistakes, so that they too can invest in and love their own kids.

Fatherhood is not for the easily wearied, it's not an easy road.  I am so thankful today for my father.  I love you, Dad.