Crossing Lines (like Christ)

 

There I was standing in an old dilapidated brick building, holes in the ceiling and open to the elements. Then Kyle walked in with plastic bags full of paint cans and rollers. He walked with purpose to the center of the space and pulled on elastic gloves. As he started painting a wall, I wondered what made a person paint graffiti?

As a child I remember the joy of coloring. How simple; pick a color and start filling in the blank space. However one thing that always seemed to be a deviation from acceptable behavior was “Coloring Outside the Lines.”

Those who colored outside the lines risked criticism but created something completely their own. They were able to dream something bigger; visualize lines that told a story and came to life. They were the dreamers, visionaries, risk-takers, or simply troublemakers.

When I first saw Kyle I wondered if he was one of those troublemakers who colored outside the lines in Kindergarten and just kept breaking the rules as he got older. I wasn’t sure if he was someone I should talk to or not. (Ingrained habits of childhood – “Don’t talk to strangers.” especially someone painting graffiti in an abandoned building.)

But Kyle was not what I expected. He was a polite young man with a hobby of adding life and beauty to broken spaces. His paint told a passionate story. I learned that he and his girlfriend are traveling artists, painting on contract across the nation. While traveling, they look for broken spaces to add their art, often approaching local businesses that are run down and offering to add life simply for the cost of supplies.

I shared with him that I am a pastor and would be doing a series “Crossing lines – Like Jesus.” I planned to use images of his art and symbolically talk about how God can bring beauty to our broken and abandoned lives. When I came back I found he had painted a cross, almost hidden in a doorway to the building. It cried out – “This is holy ground; yes it was broken, shattered and falling apart, but with the light flowing down through the crumbling rafters on his fresh paint, it looked like stained glass, consecrated and beautiful.”