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Good morning.

There’s a church in the centre of Glasgow where the artist Iain Campbell works.  He’s doing a series of paintings on St Luke’s gospel. His easel is set up beside a big window, and a small table with brushes and tubes of paint.

Because this is a city centre church with a café, all kinds of people come.  Many of them are homeless. Office workers pop in at lunchtime, tourists have a look round.  They see Iain’s  paintings on the walls, and often stand behind him for a closer look, or to have a chat. 

It’s irresistible, watching an artist conjuring a rounded world from blank flatness.  When I was there, Iain was dabbing on flecks of black to the eyelashes of Jesus on the cross.  His model is a Middle Eastern asylum seeker he met one day in the church. This is a swarthy, bearded Jesus, with thick black hair, and a strong face turned to the side.  His dark eyes are closed.  I wondered what he was thinking of as he posed, this man far from home, looking for sanctuary and friendship.

Behind the church, where two roads split, is a bench and on it lies a figure wrapped in a blanket, except for his bare feet. Each curled foot has a gaping hole.  ‘Homeless Jesus’ is a bronze statue by the sculptor, Timothy Schmalz.  There are copies in cities around the world, where people are sleeping rough on the streets. Just like the man who sits on a blanket on the street in front of the church. And who often goes into the warmth to watch Iain paint, and to talk.

May God be present today in the friendship of strangers and the sanctuary of love.  Amen.