"Where's Jesus?'
By Ruth Schenk
rschenk@secc.org
Guards at the Cave Hill Cemetery gate now know
the answer to the question.
At first they were puzzled when people rolled
down car windows to ask, "Where’s Jesus?" They were used to
inquiries about Colonel Sanders, Civil War soldiers and local
celebrities. But this was something altogether different.
The answer to that question is, "He’s at
Brittiney Bevin’s monument, down the winding road and around the bend
to the wooden bridge."
The grass path to Jesus at the cemetery is
sparse from footsteps of visitors. Flowers and notes are often left on
granite ledges. The Bevin family often has to wait as other families
spend time at the life-size sculpture of Jesus and the children.
"That’s what we hoped for," they
said.
Brittiney was just 17 when she died in a car
accident on Sept. 22, 2003. She’d written A Dangerous Prayer in
her journal the night before it happened.
"My dangerous prayer is that You will
place broken-hearted people in my path and fill me with You so that I
can let Your love heal their pain."
Though the family was devastated, they looked
for a special way to celebrate Brittiney’s life and faith.
Brittiney’s parents, Matt and Glenna, called Tom and Marcey White,
friends they met at an art show in Maine. Tom’s story and his art
intrigued the Bevins. The two families found they had a lot in common
and attend the same church when the Bevins are in Maine for the summer.
Matt was taken with the raw emotion of Tom’s
work—especially the sculpture Father’s Love of the
prodigal father. He bought it as a gift for Brittiney.
Tom never picked up an artist’s brush, drew a
stick figure or pinched a hunk of clay until he was 30 years old. He
said he was more Texas redneck than artist, at home hunting and hiking.
He made fun of art classes in high school and lived as a "wild
boy," making a living in carpentry and construction.
A contractor at a construction site invited Tom
to church dozens of times before he accepted. The Gospel sunk in slowly.
He listened and read the Bible until the day he decided to follow Jesus,
Tom never looked back. He met his wife, Marcey, in a Bible study.
On a whim one day in 1991, Tom fashioned a
six-inch wire into a simple sculpture of an Indian. He said the ability
to sculpt was instantaneous. He signed up for an art class, but the
instructor told him not to come back—there was nothing she could teach
him.
For years, Tom thought of his art as a hobby.
Marcey tried to convince him otherwise.
"I’m just a carpenter," Tom told
her. "I don’t even know the name of an artist."
"You know God," she shot back.
 The
family left Texas to move near foundries in Colorado. They stayed for
five years while Tom worked as a carpenter by day and artist at night.
But Marcey’s dream was to live in Maine where she could run a bed and
breakfast while Tom concentrated on art.
By then the family included five children. They
packed up with $1,000 to their name and settled in a big, white house
that now is A Prodigal Inn & Gallery.
"Prodigal describes how far God has
brought us," Tom said.
He fashioned a studio in the barn.
There’s no doubt in Tom’s mind that his
ability to sculpt is God’s gift.
"If God isn’t in the room with me, the
clay just gets pushed around," he said. "But if He’s there,
I will work all night."
A month after Brittiney’s death, Matt asked
Tom why he’d never sculpted Jesus—even though faith was woven
through all his work. Tom explained that the Jesus he would fashion
would be a strong, masculine carpenter with big hands. He’d laugh out
loud and spend time with children.
That was exactly what the Bevins wanted for her
monument—a sculpture of Jesus welcoming Brittiney and the children, a
group of sculptures that would reflect the joy and hope of heaven.
Tom put biblical clothes on his own children
and took dozens of photos as they ran, jumped, laughed and played. Then
he fashioned the figures in clay. Details make them seem alive. There
are wrinkles in the children’s clothes and pieces of hair on end.
Jesus has big hands and a smile that shows teeth.
Terry Joy, who worked with Tom and the Bevins
on the placement of the sculptures in Cave Hill, put it this way.
"You can almost hear the laughter,"
he said. "There’s no doubt in the Bevins’ minds that when
Brittiney reached heaven, she sprinted to Jesus."
While Tom worked on the sculptures in Maine,
Joy designed the stones and the bronze book with pages that turn. A
Dangerous Prayer is engraved on one page. Tributes from family
members are on another page. A color photo of Brittiney is included in
one stone.
Joy’s specialty is designing monuments that
will connect generations. Whole sections of Cave Hill display his
work—handprints of children on markers, sculptures, children’s
drawings reproduced in stained glass.
Tom holds the copyright to the sculptures. The
Jesus figure is being poured in bronze for the fifth time for various
churches, Christian schools and youth centers around the country. Part
of every commission is given to Brittiney’s Wish, a foundation to help
teenagers afford mission trips.
Tom’s nail bag now hangs on a wall. He works
in his barn/studio. Response to the sculptures has been amazing. When
Marcey and Tom took the sculpture of Jesus to a secular art show, tears
ran down the people’s faces as they reached out to touch His hands.
They found two children sitting in Jesus’ lap, two on each arm and one
with his arms around Jesus’ shoulders talking to him. Every time the
sculpture is displayed, children swarm all over Jesus.
"That’s when we knew it worked,"
Marcey said.
Glenna was shocked the first time she walked
into the cemetery to see the sculptures in place.
"I couldn’t believe it was that
alive," she said. "Touching Christ’s hand overwhelmed
me."
Brittiney’s little sisters ran to Jesus,
climbed into his lap and sat on his knee.
Southeast member Larry Robbins lost his son in
a tragic accident two years ago. He often takes his mother to Robbie’s
monument at Cave Hill. But after a few minutes, she asks to go see Jesus
and sit on the bench near Brittiney’s grave site.
"That’s what gives her comfort and
hope," he said.
So Brittiney’s dangerous prayer is coming
true. The broken-hearted are finding healing on Brittiney’s path.
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Tom and Marcey White