Under Construction

My mother always reminded me to look not at the person standing center stage, but the one standing beside him or her. It was a lesson she taught not only with words, but also with the way she lived her life. I was reminded of her advice (and example) this week when I traveled to Charlotte, North Carolina, to visit the Billy Graham home and library. I’ve always been interested in the man, but I have been equally fascinated by the woman who stood beside him for all those years. 

I must confess I have a complicated relationship with the Evangelical Church. Attracted to the passion found under its tents, I’m repelled by what seems like conditional grace. It is because of this feeling, which might be my stuff, that I approached the Graham library tentatively. 

It was heart-warming to walk through Billy’s childhood home, and inspirational to walk through the doors at the base of the glass cross in the barn wall, but my soul was filled not by the home, the library, the legacy, or the man. It was filled by the woman buried beside him.

Outside the library, off to the side, are Ruth and Billy’s graves, marked with wonderful natural stone. On his, there’s a cross above his name, as I expected, but over hers was a Chinese symbol. Surprised, I found out it was a symbol, or letter, she’d seen when living in China. It translates, “Under construction, thank you for your patience.” When she first saw it and learned what it meant, she said it was what she wanted on her grave stone.

I am not sure there’s a better message for Lent, or any other season, because no matter how hard we try to hide it, we are all under construction and can thank God for His infinite patience.

Ash Wednesday

There once was a person who traveled at the speed of light. You know the kind, the kind that can juggle three balls at once while balancing the checkbook and mowing the lawn. As you might expect, people looking on marveled at one so innately talented. Encouraged by their praise, the person sought to do more and more. 

What people didn’t know was that this person used motion like an alcoholic uses booze. Instead of dealing with emotions, the person crawled into a car, instead of a bottle, and pressed the gas so the world and all its challenges would become a blur. It worked, too, until the car ran out of gas. All the emotions the person tried to avoid were waiting when the car came to a stop.

I thought of this person when I drove by a church in my area today. Never had I seen a drive-through Ash Wednesday service, but I am sure it’s enormously popular in our busy world. If one can get ashes on the fly, he or she wouldn’t have to sit in silence, say words of confession, or hear about giving things up for Lent. If one can get ashes outside, he or she won’t have to go inside, and, after all, going inside is what so many of us try to avoid.

Lenten Adventure

Dear Brushstrokes Subscribers,

On Wednesday, March 6th, the season of Lent begins. For churchy people, that’s a season to prepare for Easter. For others, it’s an opportunity to try something new. Either way, it’s an opportunity to grow spiritually, and I wanted to invite all the people who read Brushstrokes to come on a Lenten Adventure.

You are invited to observe Lent by coming on a walk. Actually, it’s more like a climb, but, either way, it’s a 47-day adventure (40 days + Sundays) from Ash Wednesday (3/6) to Easter (4/21). We will “walk” together as if climbing a mountain and use the climb as an allegory to journey deeper into our spiritual lives.

Each day, those who sign up will receive a short meditation which will explore some aspect of the spiritual climb. Participants can leave it at that, or they can explore the meditation further in a short written response. The adventure is theirs. How they climb is up to them.

This is something outside of Brushstrokes, so if you are interested, you will need to send me an email telling me you want to participate. I will then put you on the (private) list and you will receive an introductory email, then 47 daily ones beginning on Ash Wednesday

My email is: chipbristol@gmail.com. (I will close the invitation, or zip up my pack, so to speak, on Tuesday 3/5. It’s too cumbersome to try to catch people up once we’ve begun.)

Regardless of whether you choose to come along or not, I hope the season of Lent will be a meaningful one for you. 

- Chip

PS Feel free to send this invitation to those you think might be interested. I am happy to put them on the list if they email me.