A Gust Of Wind

John Singer Sargent
1856-1925
painter, draftsman, sculptor, portraitist, muralist, watercolorist and guitarist
A Gust of Wind
156.5 x 96.8 cms | 61 1/2 x 38 ins
Oil on canvas

“So don’t be so surprised when I tell you that you have to be ‘born from above’—out of this world, so to speak. You know well enough how the wind blows this way and that. You hear it rustling through the trees, but you have no idea where it comes from or where it’s headed next. That’s the way it is with everyone ‘born from above’ by the wind of God, the Spirit of God.” – John 3:7-8 The Message (MSG)

After reading the apostle Paul’s conversion, I thought it might be appropriate to talk about my own converting experience, though it it is difficult to encapsulate, so to speak. However, I can point to a few various factors.

My first contact with anything Christian occurred at the age of three. My mother had an extra large, family Bible. I could go by it a thousand times and see the opened picture of Christ on the cross. I believed the Lord loved me and that I could do anything the Lord wanted me to do. I assumed I knew what Christ was all about. I put confidence in my flesh. I felt safe. Everything was fine. We had a an open Bible in the house! I was drifting along disillusioned.

Being a Christian takes great persistence and maturity. I must have something to say to him – of my current life – every day, in prayer. Heaven is the place we aim to go, and it will take great character to walk on streets of gold, The best I can imagine about heaven is to size up. Grapes to the size of grapefruit.

My first contact with anything Christian occurred at the age of three when my mother painted a wooden chair solid black, and then, in white paint, she wrote the words to some of her favorite Psalms. She made Christ manifest to me through her creative energy. I regret that I gave too much of her away.

While writing this letter, my pop called me from the hospital in Tennessee today. He said, “You’re not going to believe this.”

I laughed, “Probably not.”

“I got saved last night,” he cried, “by my son’s pastor.”

“Miracles do happen, and there is a God in heaven. I knew you believed in God, but I never, in two million miles , thought you would admit He was not you. I gave up on you when I left home, but God did not.”

I was so surprised. This is the best ending to any story, and to the power of the Holy Spirit. I had no idea where the Sprit was going next.

“It is truly awful to admit, glass in hand, we have warped our minds into such an obsession for destructive drinking that only an act of Providence can remove it from us.” – Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p.21
~ Stacy