The Death of Mankind…
On Tuesday afternoon I stood in a room in ICU at Riverside Hospital and watched Mankind die.
Mankind was also known as Bigness, Bulldog, Spud, Big Nick and Gentle Giant. My friend, Nick slipped into eternity a few minutes before 2:00pm. I learned a lot from Nick’s death; a lot about people and about myself.
Nick was given the nickname Mankind because of his love for Professional Wrestling and because he was such a kind man; he was only 28 years old when he passed.
I’d known Nick for a couple of years; his mother attended the church where I pastor. In January I officiated the funeral for Nick’s dad; none of us dreamed we’d being having a funeral for Nick in the same year.
Nick was a giant of a man; he’d worked in security at a strip club in Columbus where he earned the name Gentle Giant which was given to him by one of the girls that worked at the club because he used to protect her.
Over the past few days it became apparent to me that Nick loved people and people loved Nick.
I heard story after story of Nick’s generosity, love, kindness and care. Over a few years period of time Nick and his mom opened their home to 25 different foster children. There was a photo laying in Nick’s casket today with a little 2-year-old girl named, Selina laying on his belly as they lay on the couch together—he was “daddy” to her. He was daddy to a couple dozen kids who didn’t have someone to call daddy.
I learned that a family friend’s young daughter couldn’t say “Big Nick” when she was small, but instead it came out “bigness”. The name stuck and Bigness was born. Nick was big, he was bigger than life; he was bigger than 28 years normally makes a man.
I heard more stories of how Nick befriended people; he would give them anything they needed, and, if it was possible, he’d given them things they wanted but maybe couldn’t afford.
Nick was a huge Insane Clown Posse fan and a dozen or two of his ICP brotherhood testified to the kind of friend and man he was. Others from the strip club where he had once worked testified of the same thing.
Nick made me wonder what kind of a legacy I’m leaving. It’s easy for me to go through the day-to-day routine of being a pastor; preparing sermons, conducting church business, helping people, feeding the poor and homeless and myriad other things—but the big question is “am I loving people”. Do I love people so much so that they would think of me as Mankind as people thought of Nick as Mankind? Is my love for people so great that I’m known as a kind man?
Jesus said the greatest thing is to love God with all our heart and to love others as we love ourselves.
I realize that I have the capacity to love God, but my love for people is sometimes restrained. I want to love people the way Nick did—without conditions. I want to love people who work at strip clubs and rock out to ICP; in many ways I don’t think they’re so far from God. I want to love daddy-less kids. I want to love those our world thinks are unlovely. And, I want Jesus to think of me as Mankind; that I was a kind man who loved God and loved people so much that it was the legacy I left with my life.
I gotta believe that Jesus would smile on that type of kindness; it’s a kindness that does the one thing we were created to do, and that is to reflect to people what Jesus looks like and what God looks like.
