I draw during the 11 O’clock service. The pencil and paper help me to explore the familiar surroundings and repeated words.
Perhaps this is similar to taking notes in a lecture theatre, even if the text is available online. Writing helps focus the mind and activate more of the brain to aid retention. For me the drawing is not so that I remember though, it helps me contemplate rather than rationalise. Sometimes I’ll draw a design inspired by the feeling of the moment or the archetecture of worship. At others a phrase from a reading will start me exploring the nature of my experience of the Divinity. It is usually a combination of many things!
This Sunday my drawing was most influenced by the reading from 1 Corinthians ch2 (although I later looked up John ch14 when I started putting my thoughts into words).
The flow of the service seemed to follow the theme of questioning the relationship between ritual acts and righteous living. Even kindness and public displays of charity can conceal support for systematic injustice. Whilst all the right words might be said, the balance of power remains with the privileged. An empty ritual of giving reinforces dependency rather than releasing potential, whether this is through fulfilling basic needs or placing abundance at the service of those who need it – both to restore healthy relationships.
Beneath this flow, my mind was occupied with thinking about the passage from Corinthians and the relationship between the presence of Jesus and that of the Holy Spirit. As Christians we look to Jesus for our example. Did Jesus ascend so that we would need to sense more broadly though? Rather than imitating one human being, we now have to be aware of the Spirit in being human. As pervasive as salt, yeast, light and obvious in her absence in tasteless behaviour, the weight of grinding poverty, and piety which blinds us from the minute to minute reality of what needs to be done.
So my drawing starts with a cross. Radiating from the cross are waves of water, transforming into tongues of fire. Perhaps viewers loose sight of the cross as they gaze on the drawing. For me though, I see the fire of the advocate blazing with anger fueled with an experience of ethical indignation that cannot be satisfied within the status quo. I see the healing waters of the comforter refreshing and bringing peace to those who are weary. The art style comes from stone and the metals of the earth, and perhaps by exposing it to the “open air” in this blog post others will find meanings I haven’t seen yet.
And that perspective shift is why the cross gets smaller and smaller as the drawing develops. The cross in it is not something to look at. It is a place to stand and look out from. The invitation is there to centre yourself in Jesus.
Let the fire of the Holy Spirit bathe you and transform darkness into light.
Let the water of the Holy Spirit bathe you and heal your wounds.
And flow through the food you eat, the drink you drink, and the relationships you live your life in.
