Thanks, Dad

Dear Dad,

I thought I would write you just to follow up on the conversation we had the other day.  I told you how much I loved you and how thankful that I was for you.  I also told you how I couldn't have asked for a better father.  I meant everything that I said, but even though I knew that you were leaving, I guess it always comes sooner than we expect, and that's just what happened.  So, let me say a little more that I didn't get to say the other day.

Thanks for being a model of a man of integrity to me.  You always showed me to be consistent and to always live as the child of God that I claim to be.  You were always honest and truthful, even when it wasn't the easiest thing.  People might have looked at you funny when you showed that integrity, but I was looking too, and you showed me a lot.  Thanks for standing up for your convictions.  While we didn't always agree, I am thankful that you stood for things and that you did it with grace and integrity.

Thanks for caring for Mom.  I know that you always struggled to find the right words to say, but your words were more right than you realized.  You relied on cards and letters to say things that you felt like you couldn't say face to face, and Steve and I have found more and more examples of just how much you loved Mom.  Thanks for always striving to be a better husband and for admitting your shortfalls.  I know that things at the end were hard, but you had been through an awful lot and I don't fault you for being tired.

Thanks for showing me that my call to ministry was from God and that people's opinions of me shouldn't sway that.  You never considered yourself an eloquent preacher yet you preached with determination and focus.  You never considered yourself a brilliant man, but the size of your heart made anyone forget that (even though I don't think it was very true.....Dr.!).  You pressed on despite the many obstacles that you faced all along the way.  Over the course of 40+ years in ministry, you took your fair share of licks, but you continued to press on.  Over the course of 9 years in ministry, I've taken my own share, but I am constantly reminded of you and it helps me to push on.

Thanks for being transparent.  You were always honest with me about what you saw as your shortfalls.  That's not something that you encounter every day and I have done my best to use you as a model.  While I never idealized you, I always thought that you were pretty special.  I remember the compassion that you showed when Grandma was sick and you broke down at the kitchen table because it reminded you of all that you had been through with your own mother.  Thanks for not hiding your tears, they spoke to me in volumes that have left an indelible mark on my life.  In fact, when we said "good-bye" to you at the cemetery, your grandsons and your other son came around me when I shed tears of my own.  Thanks for giving me permission to cry in life's difficult situations.

Thanks for being forgiving.  I remember when I hit the house with the car on my 15th birthday.  When I confessed that it was me and not Steve's friend, you simply said, "You're a jerk, go to bed."  That line has gone down in our family folklore and I expect it will continue.  I also remember when someone bought tainted grape juice from the CVS next to your church and some people got sick during communion.  Police investigations finally  discovered that the bottle was tainted by a disgruntled employee.  Instead of meting out justice on him, you offered him the same forgiveness that we have received through Jesus Christ, even calling the employee's mother and offering words of comfort and encouragement to her.  You were forgiving to a fault sometimes, even when Mom thought that you should have spoken up more, you took the same approach that Jesus did, humbly receiving what was thrown at you without opening your mouth in defense.

Last week, I read a note that you had written to me just a few months after my first son was born.  You said that you hoped that I would avoid some of the mistakes that you had made.  Considering all that you came from and all that you had been through, I think that you did a pretty good job.  Like I said to you, I could not have asked for a better dad.  You always showed me unconditional love and, even though it was slightly embarrassing, thanks for kissing me good-bye every time that you dropped me off at school, even into middle school and high school.  I can only hope that my boys allow me the same luxury.  I am so thankful that I never wondered whether or not you loved me.

Well, I could probably write a whole lot more, but I'm going to close now.  Thanks again for all that you did.  I look forward to telling my kids all about their grandpa and how much he meant in my life.  I did my best to always tell you how much you meant and you did the same thing for me.  Thanks for always telling me how thankful you were for what I did for you, especially towards the end.  I always wished that I could do more, but I thank you for understanding.

I will miss you until I see you again.  I'm glad to know where you are, but it's hard not picking up the phone to call you, hard to not be able to hear your voice.  I've got a few voicemails from you that will have to suffice for now.

Enjoy the rewards that you have earned and the gift that you have received by grace.  Give Mom and everyone else hugs for me.  I'll look forward to the day when I can tell you all of this face to face.

I love you!

Jonathan

Starting Over

I started this post on my computer and was going to name it "The End is the Beginning" only to find out that I had used that exactly title 9 months ago.  It seemed like an appropriate title again as I just completed work on my second to last quarter of seminary.  In a little bit more than a month, I will be taking my last two classes to complete my degree.

Ironically, there are tears of sadness and heartache welling up in my eyes as I write this.  One would imagine that the tears that I would shed would be tears of joy, especially one who knew what the last 18 months of my life have held.  But there is a sadness there because of the ending of a long journey.  I imagine that when the last keystroke falls on the last page of my last paper of seminary, I will feel a similar emotion, except probably magnified by at least ten times.

The end of something, for anyone who sincerely wants to continue moving forward, signifies change.  Life will change for me again when December comes.  Things will be different, but different does not mean bad, it just means different and lends itself to new opportunities.

I was struck by my conversation with a friend who shared a recent experience of being away and unplugged for a few weeks.  He claimed that once everything was stripped away, there was no place to hide.  He could not hide in his work.  He could not hide from his family.  He had a choice to face or flee from reality.  I have a similar choice before me.

As I reflected on the title of my blog the other day, I realized that I probably have not confessed as much on here as one would expect from a blog titled "Confessions of a Recovering P.K."  I thought long and hard about why that was and the truth is, it's probably to protect others besides myself.  My father, the pastor, has not been in good health since my mom died.  In reality, he has not been in good health since long before then, especially when you consider that health extends far beyond our physicality and reaches to our spirituality and our mentality.

When my wife and I lived in Asheville, North Carolina, we began to notice a trend in my father.  He and my mom would come and stay with us for a week at a time.  As the week went on, we noticed a change in his demeanor as the day of departure grew near.  He would begin to disengage, to pull back from activities and isolate himself.  It almost seemed as if it were a defense mechanism from the pain of leaving. 

As we all age, there is a distinct realization in us that we are not guaranteed anything.  Years ago, when my aunt died, I vividly recall my parents dropping my wife and I at the airport after the funeral.  As I began to say good bye to my parents, that realization came over me and I was overcome with emotion.  I began to sob as I held my mom in my arms.  Fortunately, I had some years after that to enjoy, but the reality was too strong for me to deny.

The isolation that I observed in my father is present within me, we have the same DNA.  I can easily isolate myself or immerse myself in something that will take me away from the present reality that I should be facing.  If I am not careful, good things can pull me away from what is great in my life.  I could easily find myself withdrawing in an attempt to protect my feelings and emotions.  The right thing to do is not necessarily the easy thing to do.  As I've heard many people say before, "If it were easy, everybody would be doing it."

But that is the beauty of grace to me, it's like a Mulligan.  We get a "do over."  We acknowledge our mistakes, but we get back up on the saddle and try again.  Failures don't define us, they make us who we are, stronger and better if we learn from them.

December will be an end of sorts for me, but it will also be a beginning.  I will start over.  Something will finish but something else will begin.  I don't know what it is, but I can feel the murmurings of newness within me well in advance.  Aslan is on the move, but who's paying attention.  Who's looking to see where He is going, how He's moving?

Opportunity awaits.  Fresh starts lie just around the corner.  Will we run towards them or away from them?  I'm looking forward to what's lying just on the other side.

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.