“Let us paint images of the new creation on an age that seems tumbling down.  Although the age may well tumble, our images are painted on the eternal mystery of God and, therefore, sure.”

– David Buttrick

A lot of news and talk has been floating around lately about the world of food. It’s no wonder - I guess we humans have a little addiction to the stuff! But these days there’s a lot more to talk about - the unbridled growth of the organic food movement, locavores and the the 100-mile diet, I’ve seen choices at restaurants increase more and more to include vegetarian and vegan, and this morning I even read about “rescued” food (trash treasures, or dumpster diving, whatever suits ya).

In every country I’ve traveled to, the uniqueness of the culture seems to reveal itself most around issues of the bathroom and the dinner table. People eat differently in Japan than they do in Argentina! (Eat with your hands above the table in Argentina (prove you don’t have a switchblade) and keep your sticks out of your food when you’re not eating it (or your hosts will think you consider their food as delicious as a funeral).

I’ve been reading Jesus for President, (seeing as how this is an election year and I want to research all my options,) here’s a quote:

“How do Christians eat? Christians eat with the poor folks, with the outcast, the marginalized, and the excluded - all who were never invited to anyone else’s party. Ours is a different kind of party. It’s more like a divine banquet than another political program. Society’s misfits are our people, our ‘constituency.’” (pg.241)

And some words from Jesus’ political manifesto:

Luke 14: “When you throw a banquet do not invite your friends…invite the poor.” (Jesus)

Mark 2: “But when some of the teachers of religious law who were Pharisees saw him eating with people like that, they said to his disciples, “Why does he eat with such scum?”

Jesus was a Pooravore.

He surrounded himself with the overlooked and the outcast, the misfits and the marginalized. He gave his rapt attention to those who had been ignored all day as they begged in the streets. They were his posse, his “supper club.”

Today Kat and I were walking through our neighborhood’s market streets with some great friends of ours from Chicago’s south side. I had been thinking and talking with God about some of this all morning. And there as we were walking past the Ten Thousand Villages store (a store about fair trade and justice for the poor) sat an elderly man with no teeth asking for money (the irony was hard to get past). Turns out his name is Bill (name changed to protect the innocent) and he lives in a nursing home not far from where we were.

Bill, like others at the home, is allowed $30 a month from the home (they keep the rest of his social security check, plus any money he makes at a job). He was out of cash and hungry for some hot dogs. I had a $1.25 on me so it we hightailed it down to the corner market and got some juicy ones. The store clerk even mircowaved ‘em for us.

I noticed that everyone in the store and everyone on the sidewalk was from the nursing home, which doubled as a mental institution. He and I sat under the shade of a tree in a park across the street from where he lives his life. He was just as interested in me as I was in him. I got the feeling he was lonely - his family rarely comes to visit him, though they all live in the city.

As I sat there talking with him about coffee crystals and cigarettes, it dawned on me that Jesus made it very clear what kind of diet Christians were to be on. A steady diet of conversation with the oppressed, for that is where their Jesus is. Though those hot dogs left a “mechanically separated” taste in my mouth, it was the best food I’d eat all day long.

Become a Pooravore, and watch your life change.

We should find people of great influence in our peer group and in our discipline and listen to them. Because they differ slightly from us, these people sharpen us. Sometimes they are achieving such greatness that we feel a drip of depression looming in our seeming lack of accomplishment. But that only remains when we focus on our accomplishments or lack thereof.

Many would call this sort of activity “self-centered.” I contend that it is probably not “self-centered” enough. Perhaps we need to go even deeper into searching ourselves - we need to search inside of ourselves to find the still small voice instructing us. This voice trumps all external, peer-reviewed comparison. It says, “Keep running the race” and “fight the good fight” and “I will give you rest.” Man, I love that still small voice.

Like any discipline, some of the pitfalls of painting don’t emerge (or become recognizable) until after one takes the risk of continued practice. One of the greatest lessons I’ve been learning in painting is to take confidence in the simplicity of a single stroke – to appreciate what one simple stroke can accomplish and communicate. (The painting here is a study of Mark from a couple of weeks ago.)

Just because a stroke is simple doesn’t mean the painting comes out as simplistic. The simplicity of each stroke actually adds great interest to the painting. Now, I think a little bit longer before I throw paint on the canvas because I want to be intentional. And rightly so – a stroke remains packed with substance: placement, direction, color, consistency, texture, value, size, and relationship to other strokes…

Before I did a lot of trial and error painting. If any of you have ever tried oil painting, you know that the paint takes an incredibly long time to dry! So while the paint is still wet, if the artist meddles in the strokes, the painting becomes muddy and difficult to appreciate. I have killed many pieces this way – out of insecurity and in search of perfection.

But my search was misguided. Even though I may not see what the painting will be as a finished piece, I have to trust the process. I let go and force myself to trust something that I cannot see. And a visual product emerges. It’s such a weird yet satisfying experience.

I think this is some of the most imaginative architecture I have seen in a long time. It is an art school out of Singapore’s Nanyang Technological University. Leave it to Asia to come up with a heart shaped building with grass runway-roofs. Check out the pictures: