Perception is fascinating. It is responsible for creating our realities. It doesn't matter that our perception is often different from the truth. What we see determines what is real to us.
That doesn't mean our reality is incorrect. It just means it is incomplete. Take the way we perceive those around us.
We only have a limited view. Sometimes we only get one dimension. If we are lucky, we see several, which gives us a better understanding and a better appreciation of the other person. You might see someone through their profession. You see them as a lawyer. Or maybe you see them as a parent, community leader, actor, or fellow church member. All the while not realizing they are all those things ... and more.
Such is the case with John Marshall Melvin. John passed away on June 9, 2019. In a way, it is fitting that he left us on a Sunday. That may seem an odd thing to say, but you have to understand the perception of John that created my reality.
Of the things I listed above, John was all of them and so much more. He was a partner in the law firm of Stewart, Melvin & Frost. He was a fine attorney – ethical, thorough, professional. He handled a real estate closing for my wife and I, but I knew him before then. And really seeing him in action gave me a new perspective that expanded and re-enforced my reality.
This was a good man. He was a husband to Mary Lou, a dad to Marshall and Meredith. He played Daddy Warbucks in local productions of "Annie" over the course of two decades. He was a deacon and elder. He was a dedicated Rotarian. But those weren't the ways in which I knew him best. Rather than a suit or on a stage, I was used to seeing him in a robe.
You see, John sang in the choir at First Presbyterian Church of Gainesville for as long as I can remember. Every Sunday I would see him enter the loft either by the side doors or when the choir would process down the aisle and up into the loft. A tall bald man with a great voice, he was easy to spot. There is something comforting about seeing the same faces in the same places at church. Sitting in the back of the church, as the good Presbyterian I try to be, I am familiar with the backs of many heads. Many of which I have had the privilege to see Sunday after Sunday for decades.
Over the years I have noticed that many of the heads are no longer there. They're attending the ultimate worship service. Thinking of this, I wonder "who is going to take their place.” The answer that comes back is sobering: me or more specifically, my generation. The baton of leadership is continually being passed. That's nothing new. But when it lands in your hands your perception of where you fit in changes and alters your reality whether you like it or not. What a responsibility you have to live an example that guides the next generation in the proper direction.
It's realizing that your actions influence others. It’s the sudden understanding that you have a responsibility to set an example that guides the next generation in the proper direction. It's becoming aware that people are watching what you do and, either consciously or subconsciously, learning from your actions. It's a realization that leadership isn't about a position to which you are elected or appointed. Like it or not, it is a lot that befalls us all. It’s what we do with that reality that defines us.
Thankfully I have only to remember the backs of those heads populating the pews week after week. And remembering the people they belonged to and the example they set. Thanks to them I have a good pattern to follow and build upon.
That includes John Melvin. John and I never shared a lot of conversation. But his steadfast dedication to the church continues to speak volumes to me, especially when it comes to putting first things first, as good lawyers are want to say. He was there week after week.
That's why it's fitting that John left us on a Sunday. It only makes sense. He wanted to get to worship service in time to sing in the choir.
