Hope Door II

Hope side II, 2013 

Acrylic paint, acrylic gel medium on wood, 84” x 30” 

Kate Norris 

INSPIRATION

My inspiration for the theme of hope was that we are groaning for something we do not yet fully see.  This is when hope begins: when we realize we do not have what we need.  We hope in someone outside of ourselves who can span the unreachable gap.  Both forgiveness and blessing originate outside of ourselves.  The wronged party must forgive us; the one in power must bless us.  The Christian hope is that the one in power, the one outside us bent low to forgive and to bless us.  God has forgiven his children in Jesus; he has already blessed us with everything he has.  But we do not fully see it yet or fully feel it yet.  Redemption is promised to us, but we wait for the full experience when Jesus returns.  On that great day, hope will be fulfilled: 

“They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.  ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:3-4 quoting Isaiah 25:8).   

Hope will cease and our greatest joy will be realized in Jesus. 

This is where we are headed.  We are not there yet.  Until Christ returns, we do cry.  We do die.  We mourn.  We hurt.  It has not yet passed away.  But the One in power promised it has.  And it will.  So we hope.  “For who hopes for what he sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:24–25) 

Inspired by Hope Door I, I wanted to continue to work with children. 

INVITATION

I prepared this side of the door by sealing it with an acrylic gel medium and painting it black.  I invited the children who were present that Sunday morning to step into dishes of lime green, sky blue, or cerulean blue and wander until the paint dried off the bottom of their feet as they stood on the black door.  Each child had a turn.  They stood on the blackness and wandered around the door, slipping and sliding as they went.  They left their trail. 

Serving.   

There were two grown-up helpers.  They took turns supporting the children as they walked (and slid) on the door.  They also washed the children.  One held a garden hose and washed the children’s feet over the garden space in our backyard (South Side Anglican was still meeting in our home).  The other dried their feet with a towel. 

Art in Action.   

After each child had a turn, I dipped my own feet in yellow paint.  Then I walked down the door vertically speaking as I went. 

“God knew our wandering.  He came himself as the man, Jesus.  He entered into our lostness, into our darkness.”  

At the bottom, I stepped off and dipped my hand in red paint. 

As I did so, I said: 

“Jesus entered into our wanderings and then he reached down into our blackness.” 

I smacked my red-painted hand onto the door. 

“And pulled us out.” 

I hit the door so hard I couldn’t move my hand.  It tingled as I got up.  I can only imagine the nails… 

I concluded: 

“That’s what he did by dying and coming to life again.” 

The children were stimulated by the physical engagement.  They took ownership of the painting by identifying their prints.  The sound of the slapping associated with the red mark piqued their curiosity.  They continued to come back to the red to look closely, would it make the sound again? 

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