We’ve been painting little hearts, hands and crosses in worship at Church in Bethesda as we talk about service, sharing and the impact of our faith and lives on the world around us. To make cleanup a little easier I’ve been taping the little wooden pieces to half sheets of construction paper. I thought it would make it easier to paint to the edge of the pieces while keeping fingers clean.
Later, I come along and pull the pieces off to lay them around on the altar. What I didn’t plan on was the awesome way many of our people painted onto the paper, using it as an extension of the canvas. I was also struck by this image of a piece of paper with the outline of a cross after I removed the wooden piece.
When we work so hard to create a life that has beauty and intention, we don’t know how far that life will reach or how much it changes the world around it. Painting that little red cross created two images, the cross itself and the place where it was made. How like that is my own life? How like that is your life? Let’s keep painting and working on our little lives, our efforts of colors and shapes of grace, and let’s stop every now and then and look to marvel at the patterns and imprints we leave behind.
One of the sweetest elements of community is sharing the surprises, the unexpected and the leftovers. One of the deepest blessings of our faith is what we don’t easily see it creating in us and our world. Thanks be to the God who paints alongside us. Thanks be to the God who overpaints our edges and covers the world anew in grace each day. Thanks be to God.
I’ve been working on “Thoughts on Preaching: Part 2,” but this afternoon I just had to stop thinking for a while and do some painting. Painting is prayer, a form of meditation for me. I make no claims to be good at it or have a style I can all my own, but it is one of the most freeing times for me.
I’ve been reading and thinking about St. Francis of Assisi for a few days and I was thinking of doing a self-portrait, so I combined the two and came up with this painting, today… an acrylic meditation on the first line of St. Francis’ formative prayer,
“Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.”
I worked two hours straight on it from the beginning to completion, and it’s drying now in our bedroom. I have a spot on the wall all picked our for it. Don’t worry, I am under no delusions about the difference between myself and the great saint. I just used a little artistic liberty to focus my efforts.