A Pentecost Story

You just never know. I dabble at being an artist. More than 30 years ago I had a creative spurt and produced several oils. I think I have the first ever in the attic; my younger son has a pair. A few years later, I painted a couple of more: one of Moses which I think eventually I threw away and a head of an old fisherman which I gave to a friend. Then nothing for years.

Somewhere around 2002 or 2003, our parish sponsored a charity auction of arts and crafts and I decided to try my hand again after more than 25 years of nothing. Surprisingly, my simple little works sold. Same thing next year with the same outcome. Then a dry spell again. It’s not that I don’t enjoy painting, I do, but like lots of other things I enjoy that have no sense of urgency about them, taking the time to create seems to always be a low priority. Plus, I don’t really think I’m very good so it’s easy to avoid doing something that doesn’t produce much. I’m always surprised when someone likes what I do, especially enough to spend money on it. Candidly, I thought at first it was just the novelty of one of the clergy painting—that plus the good cause the cost went toward.

A few weeks ago our current parish had a silent auction to raise money for my favorite charity—our mission work in Haiti. I decided it was time to dust off the paint box and knock out some stuff. I painted another in a series I had painted before, Tuscan landscape impressions. I’m really taken by the flame shaped poplar trees that are instant reminders of Italy. I also did a couple of others in acrylics. We were asked to set values for the work along with minimum bids. I set two of them at $150 values with $75 minimums. Frankly, I didn’t think they would sell plus I liked them enough that I was willing to take them home.

But today’s story isn’t about any of the paintings. I did a small pencil and pen drawing of a pair of doors set in a wall and intersected by another wall. The attention was on the doors with the stone walls only suggested by a few pencil lines. I probably spent more time on it than the others combined. Like the others, someone bought it. Today I learned who and why.
Her name is Linda. As she walked down the rows of art work, she saw a painting of a closed door. She told me how that seemed to really distress her. She knows about closed doors from a number of painful personal experiences, some of very recent origin. As she walked along with her husband, she kept mentioning the closed door. Then she came to my drawing. “Look!” She said to her husband, “The doors are open! That’s how doors should be!” She fell in love immediately and placed a bid. See, even though she knows about closed doors, she knows about open ones as well.

But before the bids closed they had to leave, so she didn’t know if her bid was the winner or not. Several days later, she received a phone call. Her bid won. In fact, her’s was the only bid. She was thrilled and sent a check for almost three times the bid price she was so happy to have the piece. As she told me the story, I not only felt pleased something I created had impacted somebody so much, but I felt something akin to wonder. Here’s why. When she finished sharing, I said, “Let me tell you the back story to the drawing. When I first sketched it, the doors were closed. But I decided I didn’t like that—didn’t think it had enough visual interest and it seemed lifeless. So I erased the doors and redrew them open.” The look on her face said it all. She was clearly stunned.

“Did you notice the name of the piece?” I asked. She hadn’t. “It’s ‘Come’ I said.” What I didn’t say but thought was, “I named it that because the hope is not found in the closed door or the knocking, but in the open door.” And that’s my Pentecost story—a story of the Spirit reaching into the lives of the unsuspecting and unwitting and using them to touch others.

Peace,

Jerry+