Of Statues, Reputations and Legacies

Most of us vividly recall news coverage of Saddam Hussein’s statue being knocked down in Baghdad, Iraq in 2003. For decades Saddam had ruled the Middle Eastern nation, and the statue had stood in silent homage to his exalted position. In the end, however, his status was reduced to images of gleeful Iraqi citizens destroying that icon.

In the now-defunct Soviet Union, statues and pictures of Lenin and Stalin were removed in similar rituals. Once dominant leaders disgraced, their most tangible images forever swept from public view.

So it seemed intriguing when a friend recently posted this question on Facebook: “Do you think the Joe Paterno statue in front of Beaver Stadium should come down?”

Not to equate former Penn State coach Paterno’s alleged wrongdoings with those of Saddam, Lenin or Stalin, but I do see some similarities.

In each case, the men were the face of their nation (in the case of “Joe Pa,” the “Nittany Lion Nation”). They all were strong individuals, always in control, deferring to no one. And in each case, they allowed loyal followers to violate one of God’s foremost commandments: “You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath…” (Exodus 20:4) It could be argued that in the process, the first commandment was also broken: “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3).

This statue in Charleston, S.C. pays
homage to South Carolina statesman
John C. Calhoun. Since he's been dead
more than 150 years, it's unlikely
his statue is in any danger of having
to be removed.

Humanity loves erecting statues to honor celebrated leaders and achievers. On our recent vacation trip to Charleston, S.C., we saw statues of numerous individuals that played key roles in the city’s history. It’s appropriate to recognize noble contributions of dedicated and gifted leaders, but when it comes to putting up statues in their honor, we tread unstable ground – especially if the honorees are still living.

Statues typically take months, even years, to create. Reputations – and legacies – require a lifetime. But sadly, they all can be destroyed in moments – through bad decisions, unethical or immoral conduct, poor choices, or dark secrets suddenly revealed.

Maybe that’s why we’re advised to “avoid even the appearance of evil” (1 Thessalonians 5:22). Our reputations – and legacies – hang in the balance.

From ‘Who’s Who’ to Who’s He?

Justin Bieber’s a mop-haired, 16-year-old pop/soul singer who’s become the latest heartthrob for the teeny-bopper set. A YouTube video shows a little girl weeping because she “loves” Justin so much. He’s already written a book – and it’s actually longer than five pages! (How could someone so young have much to say?)

I hope he enjoys the fame while it lasts, because it probably won’t. When our girls were little, they adored New Kids on the Block. Who? Where are they now? A few years ago, the Jonas Brothers were the rage. They’re still around, but fading fast. Ten years from now, will young Justin be just another “who”?

Fame, correctly stated, is fleeting. At my exercise class they play a CD consisting of “one-hit wonders,” songs by groups that rocketed to the top and plummeted just as fast. Would you want your legacy to start with, “Whatever happened to…?”

A legacy is established not by long life, but how we live the years we have. I think of people who died relatively young: individuals like Oswald Chambers, 43, whose devotional books bless millions almost 100 years after his death; Dawson Trotman, 50, founder of The Navigators international ministry; and David Brainerd, 29, and Jim Elliot, 28, both missionaries.

Their earthly lives only shone briefly, like candles, yet their impact – through words, inspiration and vision – continues in the lives and hearts of people around the globe. In a world where we can move so quickly from “Who’s Who” to who’s he, it’s important to focus on things that will endure. That’s why I appreciate the last words of a poem by C.T. Studd, a missionary to China, India and Africa at the turn of the 20^th century:

Only one life, ‘twill soon be past,

Only what’s done for Christ will last.

The Real Measure of a Life

The entertainment industry recently has lost luminaries of varying intensity – Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.

McMahon was best known as Johnny Carson’s late-night sidekick and the pitchman for Publisher’s Clearinghouse. Farrah was adored as one of Charlie’s Angels, but guys of my generation will remember her most for her little red, one-piece swimsuit poster. She set many young men’s hearts aflutter. And of course, Michael was the grandest icon of all, already being ranked with Elvis, the Beatles and Frank Sinatra in terms of his musical magnitude and impact on pop culture.

Over the next days and weeks, we will continue to hear reports and commentaries on them all, particularly the enigmatic Michael. An unquestionably talented and charismatic individual, his latter years unfortunately were shrouded by his eccentricities and controversy.

All three were larger than life in their own way, and their departures leave a void. But as discussions of their legacies advance, the most fitting question might be, “What difference did they really make?”

For Michael, it was music and mystery. For Farrah, it was glamour and sexuality. For Ed, he just seemed like a fun kind of guy. They entertained us and offered an escape from reality, but in terms of long-term impact, was there more to them than that?

It may be, in the context of eternity, that the elderly shut-in who faithfully prays for others, the anonymous philanthropist who gives to help others in need, and those who invest time to encourage and counsel others may have as much – or more – enduring influence, despite their obscurity.

In Isaiah 43:4 God says, “Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, people in exchange for your life.” That sounds like a life well invested