Darkness IS as Light

Last week in my reflection with St Michael’s Uniting Church, I felt moved by the scriptures to declare that Darkness simply IS, as is Light. Dark is not evil, nor light good. They just are facts of the presence or absence of a light source. We have so built the dark/light | bad/good dichotomy into our mindset that all you need do is look up the words black and white in any dictionary and you’ll see the negative assumptions in the word black and the positive assumptions in the word white. The Psalmists tell us that the Divine is in both. In both. We need both light and shadow. But the reaction to what I considered a simple message was so strong from some people (positively and personally meaningful) that I was floored. I therefore share this with you, in case you, like many last Sunday, have found yourself in a dark place and considered that you were alone and that God wasn’t/isn’t with you. Divine Love is with you no matter where you are.

I brought the below painting, Darkness is as Light, to illustrate my own places. The left is the darkness of my childhood where I was able to see places of presence and dwell in them, the middle is my own shadow (one of last week’s listeners said it reminded them of Jung’s shadow side wisdom), and the right is the life from the buried grain - resurrection light. Here’s the painting. Here’s the reflection.

Churches grow, still

All of us at St Michael’s Uniting Church, Collins Street, Melbourne, AU, have almost only one thing on our minds (in addition to all the !”$%^%$£” happening to our planet and in our colleague nations). We’ve been worshipping in the Church Hall for almost a year as we’ve been waiting the completion of our Revitalising Project.

The whole point of the building developments has been to give the highest level accessibility possible for St Michael’s to engage with our neighbours in Melbourne’s Central Business District (CBD). The vision and work has much reminded me of The Church at Carrs Lane in Birmingham UK. I was commissioned a while ago to create an artwork which celebrated both the joining of two congregations and the accessibility of the building to make the kind of connections which St Michael’s is committed to reviving. Below is one section of the whole artwork called Tabernacle. This shows the shadow of the old building, glowing with history and life, now being an integral part of the gathering of people. The link goes to a page which tells you all about how this was made by using the communion table top from one congregation and photos from the other congregation. The energy of that creative union spreads all over this newer image of that union and work. We at St Michael’s anticipate a similar kind of energy to flow from the work which is now nearing completion.

Progressive Charismatic. Well, there we are

I led the Pentecost Service this last Sunday, tentatively because I knew what I was compelled to say. Rather than focussing on the Pentecostal explosion of flame and wind, I focussed instead on the ongoing story of God’s visitation as progressively present in our bodies and minds. Not always a great woosh - but true. True presence. Inside our bodies. Widsom, beyond eternity, working from our very flesh and bones, gives us power beyond ourselves to hope, to stare into the turmoil of these times in our planet and know that we’ll have the courage to face anything. God, Godself, named as Holy Spirit gives this. I also focussed on the often overlooked reason for the sudden whoosh of language coming out of the disciple’s mouths in the languages of those gathered. The purpose of God in Holy Spirit is to fill us with that which will help others understand. It is not to save just us and no one else. The infilling of Holy Spirit is to help us build communities of Justice and to receive our own healing as we do.

I told our church about my experience of this physically happening for the first time well over 40 years ago now, then remaining with me for life. This moment I write this blog. I name it. I’m a Charismatic. And I’m a progressive theologian. They/We exist. I was compelled to ‘Come Out’ to my church on Sunday. Here is the service if you want to listen.

This painting is called Red (Holy Spirit colour). A mirror image of me - because I had to look in the mirror :-)

Witness is at home

I'm delighted to share with you that Witness is now fixed in its new home, St Mary's Chapel in the Open Space Trust in Aberdeen. It has taken some while for the building development, as all developments go, and it is a real treat to see this gift from Aberdeen United Reformed Church have such a glorious place. It should help spread good news to visitors from near and far.

https://www.facebook.com/OSTrust/

Painting -- not in oils!

Well here we are. Well, here I am, captured by my photographer man whilst reviving an ancient love of mine.  Pete has decided to take up his photography again and I’m thrilled. He’s amazing. I decided that to help him by not waiting impatiently for him to take the photo, for heaven’s sake, I needed to do something of my own when out on our image seeking. Watercolor. It’s hard to say how excited I am. Whilst the world turns and feels to sway from one catastrophe to another, I can breathe and renew.  I found a fabulous Windsor and Newton Field Set of 14 ½ size paint pots in a small case laid out with room to mix paints and space to put some water. I got heavy watercolor paper in a pad glued at the edges so that when I wet the paper to start painting, the paper doesn’t wrinkle or shrink back at the sides.  This means that I don’t have to prep before I go out (masking taping the paper to a drawing board first). All I need is my usual water bottle, my pad, my box of paint and the fabulous brush that came with the kit. I can go anywhere. This sounds a little duh, but you have to understand the time it takes to set up for oil painting and to clean up afterwards to appreciate the contrast.  I need an hour each studio session just to open and close any painting moments I have. Now, I can sit down, take five minutes each side and hey presto, I’m painting. Delighted I am. Delighted.

In the pic, I’m sitting on a car rug on a log being kept company by a few ants and sheltered by the Eucalypts. The oil filled air is heaven to breathe and deeply restful. I rekindled my watery skies, layers of light to dark, transparent v opaque. The formal rule of watercolor painting is to never add white, but to leave the paper as the white. It’s a wonderful discipline to paint shadows not shapes and to let the objects emerge.  My newsletter will have more pictures of the set up and a hint of the emerging woodland 😊

Happy E. Just saying.

Fitting all the pieces in

I knew I had writing my biweekly blog post on my list for today. I procrastinated. I’d just had a conversation with my husband and creative partner about which part of which days were each of us using our shared studio and workshop, which days either of us was at each of our individual desks for photography work (him) or writing/worship planning (me) or researching (him) or drawing (me) or crafting (both) or not… Resting? Wandering? Time with family? Friends? Time to de-stress and strategize about the international news?

We’d had a wonderful creative conversation last Friday at dinner when we planned amazing new artwork for us both. At this point in our day, this week, Friday last week seemed like eons ago and I could hardly recall. I had to plan. Most of you know that planning is as much in my nature as painting. I had to know how it all and how we fit. We’ve been spending over a year finding out how we fit in a new culture, new bureaucracy, family patterns, church routines and gym schedules. But we hadn’t really sorted how we fit with each other’s aspirations and focus and how we fit in those jigsaw pieces with everything else. I made a weekly plan! It has a big winking face at the top, letting in the reality of every day’s likelihood of having something unexpected, but we have a default!  It at least lets us know the first steps in the morning, so we’re both pleased. His grin was a thing to behold.

This little jigsaw came out of work I did to illustrate an online learning program on a faith filled life. Its final version has a group of people walking on it trying to see where they fit (!).

The in-between time

For many Christians across the planet we are moving inside Holy Week. We worshipped at Palm Sunday last week, tomorrow we remember in Maundy Thursday, Holy Week Friday tradition asks us to call it Good, we wait in Holy Saturday and arrive at Easter. I can’t stop and tell you what all of these dwelling places in Holy Week mean because each one is fraught with religious and political re-interpretation though the history of this much layered faith. Instead, I give you this painting, done 35 years ago (!). It is called Holy Saturday.

It began life as a piece of stretched sheeting on an old picture frame. It’s back depicts military personnel wearily walking and was created for a Churches Together reflection service on Remembrance Day in a suburban Oxford shopping centre. After then, I was having a deep conversation with a hymn writer friend. He told me kindly yet in no uncertain terms, that I wasn’t painting because I could. Essentially, I was taking my talent and skill for granted. I almost whined - “I don’t know what to paint!”. He gently replied to paint what I was angry at. This painting is the first painting I ever did where I painted what was in my head, not in a landscape, still life or of a person in front of me. I’ve not painted other than this inspirational way since.

Here she is, hand, out-stretched and touching a rainbow of fabric. She’s tight in some kind of agony, but her hand could not be painted closed in to the body, no matter how much I tried. The sheer process of trying to close it in while it tried to reach the light was hard work indeed. So I gave up and let it do what it wanted - touch the rainbow.

The name indicates the time between the death and resurrection of Jesus on the Holy Saturday we will remember and live in this week. Death is known and life is not quite there yet, but there is a hint somewhere. This is my version of that in-between time.

I give it to you now, because the in-between time is what we know best. We see living hell around our planet, much of it human caused by greed and arrogance. We know that peaceful human companionship is a passion for many of us. We are in-between. Please let this woman’s compulsion to touch rainbows help you to stretch out to your light.