A recap from month 2. With only one night left in Malaysia, and only one night to do night ministry I immediately knew the person I wanted to spend it with: Ono- the most interesting man in the world.
The wooden sign out front says Junk Shop, but there is anything but junk inside. Ono calls it his “time machine”. I call it “art-hippie heaven”. Everything inside of me was entranced by this tiny store, and I found a place of ecstasy and joy within the hustle and bustle of a multifaceted and multi-cultured Penang. I walked in, marveled, felt instantly at home, and then continued to marvel at everything there was to take in. Old bicycles, strap-on rollerblades, diving helmets, wooden wheels, knick knacks, gadgets and gizmos a plenty, whose-its and whats-its galore, the thingamabobs of old times past (and way more than twenty), stacked one upon the other provided a visual array of nostalgia. The mood lighting from handmade lamps doctored out of saxophones and trumpets, and intricately carved ceramic lamps glazed in turquoise, cast a warm glow about the room and shadowed patterns on the ceiling. It was cozy, and comfortable, just like any artsy farsty jazzhouse would be.
Ono, the owner of this store, is not just an antique collector, but an insanely talented musician. He plays the guitar with the quick frenzied plucks of a Spaniard that ring instantly and blends beautifully like raindrops on a tin roof, composing music as they individually hit and sound. Conversely, he also plays the flute and you feel as though you are drifting in a boat on a quiet lake in a dream. With your eyes closed, you float on each languid note in a peaceful breeze that goes right through your heart. He plays at least 10 other instruments as well of course, but would never admit to it because he is “just an amateur”.
Ono is also an artist. He creates fascinating mixed media sculptures that are full of life and humor. The main light source in his corner is a lamp he fashioned out of old trumpets and saxophones. All around him are fun pieces he has created such as: wooden carvings, a lit sculpture of a man on an electric chair wearing a crown of thorns, statement pieces made from old Ninja Turtle toys, all with bizarre and unique elements I could never explain. In addition to his sculptural art, he designs organic swirls which he produces into tattoos and wonderful works of art. If you know anything about my own artistic style, the words organic and swirls almost automatically mean that I connect with and love his work, and would probably buy all of it if I could. Amidst a few old posters of cartoon pin up girls, and other random instruments he has turned into art, Ono hangs his own paintings. They are lazy and rhythmic just like the environment they hang in, but captivating. He paints using hard bristle brushes with calligraphy ink and acrylic paint, on hand-stretched canvases of burlap. BURLAP! Genius! If you are an artist and know the joy of working on tanned or colored paper instead of in a stark white notebook, working on burlap has the same effect. It adds a certain charm and warmth that you wouldn’t have otherwise. It is a simple material that is used all the time, but I was dumbstruck by how it was so simply and effectively used for fine art. From his combination of mediums he creates fluid painting of landscapes and abstracts that is so smoothly blended it looks as though it is airbrushed.
The Man Himself: ONO
My soul was so content to finally be in this oasis of an artsy-hippie heaven, surrounded by an almost overwhelming amount of creativity and visual stimulation, that I felt as though manna was falling from the sky. On the Race my artistic nature definitely suffers and almost starves, but this blessing was sustenance from above. However what made my heart truly sing more than the environment, was being invited to paint with Ono. He brought out a fresh burlap canvas, his brushes and ink, and I held my breath as I watched him set up. Then upon his encouragement and insistence: I timidly approached the canvas, carefully picked up a brush, dipped it in the ink, and almost forgot to breathe as I made my own marks of ink on the burlap. My own abstract swirls manifested and it felt like fresh air to my lungs, as though this whole time of not painting and creating I had actually been physically holding my breath. Yes indeed, my heart was happy.
I could have sat there for days, but alas, having to leave the next morning and needed some sleep we were only able to stay a few hours. The glorious few hours of painting, music, and Ono’s hauntingly unique, deep, and gritty singing voice were treasured. There was great art, and to top it all off great conversation. We spoke of Ono’s past, how he moved away from home at a young age and traveled the world alone looking for work, using his fruit expertise to profit stands along the side of the road. We spoke about the countries he explored, the loves he invested in- including an Australian musician marriage with a son, and a second French lover, and then sadly how those came to end. We spoke about the ways he has loved on people only to receive a slap in the face in return. We spoke about life philosophies- how and why loving is so much better than anger or fighting, especially when being an example for his young son. In his short life he has experienced so much, so much heartache and heartbreak, but as all good musical/artsy hippies are, he is set on love.
As a result of such a declaration, I seized the moment and took the opportunity to ask Ono what he thought about God. I thought it would be an easy transition. After all it does say in First Jon that God is love. But the conversation proved to be much more difficult than I thought. He knew about religion, but didn’t understand the concept of God or really of heaven. Lost for words despite my desperate prayers for them, I couldn’t seem to be able to properly describe God to him. I was fighting the battle of the Language Barrier, and was losing the war of communication. We seemed so close, but Ono still wasn’t grasping the concept of this loving creator that is particularly and personally interested in Him. In my own mind I struggled with how to explain the love and the principles he seemed to be advocating were so representative of Jesus, especially as a manifestation of God’s intimate love for us. But how could I talk about Jesus to this man when I couldn’t even get past the explanation of God? My doubts and insecurities crept in, robbing me of all confidence. In the end we had to leave before I could muster up the courage to share the Gospel, but I pray that his eyes were at least enlightened to God, and that in the future a seed of Jesus will be planted and bloom. I had to accept that maybe this wasn’t my ministry to share with him, but that instead he was used to minister to me.
God knew my aching and need for an artistic outlet. After all, he created me this way. He knows that if I don’t paint, or create, I go stir-crazy. He knew that my heart and soul were thirsty for an artistic expression and outpouring. And even though I didn’t have the “paint-a-mural-on-the-wall ministry” He still delivered to me in a much more personal, and much more fulfilling way. And for that I am so thankful.
Because we have a God who knows, who cares, and who through love, delivers.
He gave Ono to deliver to my artistic soul, and to give me hope for those who believe in love. He gave Ono to humble me and remind me that often the people I think I will be ministering to are the ones that end up incredibly blessing me. I am reminded that even I am in need of being poured into and lovingly taken care of, and God has the best most pleasantly surprising ways of doing so.
The combined effort of Ono and I
