How Valuable is a Mentor?
Benjamin Franklin is quoted as saying, “Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.” If we’re honest with ourselves, we can testify to the truth of his statement. A good mentor is a priceless gift.
I’ve heard my own mouth say it many times. “Everyone needs a mentor.” I’ve preached the notion to others. “Get a mentor! Find someone you trust. Someone who’s doing what you want to do. Someone who already is what you want to become.” Doing so only makes sense, and I’ve taken my own advice many times.
I’ve had several mentors.
Even from a young age, I’ve been skilled at drawing. With the desire to expand my abilities, I studied watercolor painting under a fantastic teacher in high school named Mr. Good. I would eat my lunch quickly so I could spend my time in his art room. He was happy to teach me one-on-one, and I learned watercolor techniques I never would have learned except for his time and effort. I still have the paintings I worked on while he taught me. I’ll forever be thankful for his instruction.
After graduation I attended the New Kensington campus of Penn State University and became an art major. It only took a moment after meeting my professor, Bud Gibbons, for my creativity to spark. He mastered oil and acrylic painting. His artwork hung in places like the Westmoreland Museum of American Art. I loved his work and ideas instantly formed in my mind. He painted with a style I’d never seen before. What could I do if I learned from him? What if I painted large scale, too?
I had no clue what I was doing, but I watched what Bud did. It isn’t easy to paint on large canvases and keep things proportional. I had to unlearn what I thought I already knew. I learned because I hungered to know the craft. I admired Bud and took his classes. It was an honor to study under such a well-known painter. My spare time was spent in the art department. It wasn’t long before I found myself working on a large-scale painting of my own and my instructor took me under his wing. He let me paint in his section of the studio because it was the only place spacious enough for a large canvas to hang. I remember vividly how he involved me in the style of art I wanted to discover. Bud Gibbons wasn’t just teaching me. Through his help, art became alive inside of me. He put a brush in my hand inspired me to use it. He helped me line up my first solo-artist show. My art spoke to people as painting became a language I understood. I’ll forever be grateful for his investment in me.
It has been over twenty years since I took Bud Gibbon’s painting classes, but he still influences me today. Recently, my wife and I were walking the streets of Ligonier, Pennsylvania and stepped into the G Squared Gallery. It only took an instant to recognize my professor’s work; I had no trouble picking out all his pieces. I enjoyed a special sense of nostalgia, appreciating every color choice Bud had made, every brushstroke. I absorbed the mood and feel of his paintings.
I poked my wife’s arm, getting her attention. She turned her head and glanced. “It looks like yours!”
“It does,” I said.
She admitted she would have lost a bet, because our paintings look very similar in style and technique. This is no mistake. Although I have a long way to go before matching Bud Gibbon’s skills, my paintings at least resemble Bud’s because he was a fantastic mentor. He wasn’t afraid to let me learn. He was confident in himself and taught me all I could handle learning while under his mentorship. He was an art master desiring to pass the legacy of art to another.
I wanted to show my wife more of Bud’s art. We went to the Westmoreland Museum of American Art so she could see one of his best. The museum is home to Summer, a 90 x 114-inch oil painting—a favorite of mine.
She was amazed at the painting and its size. The painting is so large you feel like you could step into it while viewing the landscape. “Yeah,” she said. “It looks just like one of yours.”
I smiled. To me, that’s a massive compliment. To learn to paint from Bud Gibbons is truly an honor. I am blessed for everything he did to shape and mold my art.
By this time in my life, I knew my mentors were very valuable. Having a mentor became solidified as one of my core values. My Christian faith was another, and so I put the concept of mentorship into this area of life as well—I knew I needed a spiritual mentor.
In many references, the Bible tells us about people who looked to others for guidance on the spiritual journey they walked. Most notably were the twelve disciples who called Jesus their rabbi. They learned from him, and we benefit from what they gained thousands of years later. I think about Peter. He went from a defeated man denying his Lord three times to a powerful witness of Christ’s love and forgiveness. Jesus knew Peter. Through Jesus’ mentorship, Peter was called higher with perfect words and a challenge even after he had failed: “Feed my sheep.”
Peter listened. The world was changed.
When I began seeking council from a spiritual mentor, I found it to be a lifeline. For the last twenty years, my spiritual mentor has been there to help me through the highs and lows of life. He’s a very humble man, but his help through the years was solid and dependable. There were times when he gently slapped sense into me. There were times he cried with me. Times he rejoiced with me. I’m shaped spiritually because of his instruction. He never tried to make me a version of himself but a closer version of Jesus. It was always about my relationship with Christ. Instead of simply stuffing me with answers, he involved me in the Christian faith. He modeled the faith and relationship I wanted with God. With his guidance, I naturally developed a grounded, genuine, and authentic faith and relationship with God as well. The fluff of man’s tradition and religion became insignificant to me while a true, living relationship became vital. I’ll always appreciate what this mentor has done for me. My life will never be the same because of his intentional mentoring efforts. Lately, I’ve caught myself teaching what I’ve learned from him to others as I share my faith with a youth group. I know this picture will make him smile, because this is where he’s taught me to focus.
Things don’t always go the way we think or plan, however, and my accident in 2018 radically changed my art life. When I had my traumatic brain injury, all art stopped. In fact, I didn’t know if there’d be any more creative expression of any kind, let alone painting.
It took a long time for me to see how I could still be creative and express ideas during recovery. My wife was paramount to show me that writing was an option—a way I could paint with words.
God is always faithful. Somehow, someway—when all I did was show up and put my foot out for the next step—He orchestrated a unique opportunity for me. It was a blessing I couldn’t believe. Once again, God gave me the gift of mentorship—something I needed but didn’t deserve.
Author Cecil Murphey is now another mentor of mine. We have a special relationship and I’m in his protégé program. For those who may not know Cecil, he’s written 140 books including 90 Minutes in Heaven and Gifted Hands: The Ben Carson Story. He coaches me on my writing and sometimes on life. I’ve never known anyone like Cec. He doesn’t give me answers. He doesn’t do the work for me. Instead, he somehow pulls the work out of me, involving me in the process, letting me discover things for myself. Some people may wonder why I haven’t published a book lately. It’s because writing school is in session, and I’m learning from a legend. Cecil is not only teaching me writing, but why one writes.
And I need that.
In the same way my art became alive under Bud Gibbons and my faith became solid with my spiritual mentor, my writing is becoming alive under the mentorship of Cecil Murphey.
One day another book by Chuck Carr will hit the shelves. It will have Chuck’s name on the cover, but will be influenced by one who has already done what I’m aspiring to do. Many people will read it, noting that my writing has become tighter, my word choices have become better, I've communicated more clearly, and my ideas have become more developed. People will be challenged by the words I write. Perhaps someone will see a hint of Cecil Murphey in my writing. Quite possibly, someone will hear God’s whisper. When that day happens, I’ll smile, because Cec is mentoring me well. Cecil Murphey is teaching me how to be a Christian writer.
So now, I challenge you.
What is it you aspire to do? What is it the Lord has asked of you? Is there someone around you who is already doing it? Look to that person. Connect with them. Let them shape you, form you, and develop you—not necessarily as a copy of themselves, but a refinement of what God desires you to be. A wise person will look around, seeking those who have already accomplished what he or she aspires to do. I don’t claim to be wise, but by God’s grace, my mentors and I were lined up together. I am beyond thankful. You can be, too.
Have you made it, already becoming what you aspired to be? Please, don’t stop there. To those who have accomplished what your heart set out to achieve, I challenge you also. Is there someone out there who could benefit from your mentorship? Look around. Who’s eyes do you see looking your way? What greater legacy can you have with someone than by involving them, refining them in the gift or ability they desire?
Mentoring is a priceless gift that gives both ways.
Everyone benefits from mentorship. Everyone grows, learns, and discovers.
Embrace the value of mentorship today.
By Chuck Carr
Links:
Westmoreland Museum of American Art.
Written permission granted by Westmoreland Museum of American Art for use of their photo “Summer,” by Bud Gibbons.
Charles W. Gibbons, III, Summer, from the series The Four Seasons, 1991–92. Oil on canvas. Gift of The Westmoreland Society, 1991. The Westmoreland Museum of American Art.