About Jim Valekis

I’d like to introduce you to the “Smiling Icon.”  It’s an ancient depiction of the Gospel writer Luke I found on an ancient church wall in Meteora, Greece.

 Meteora is a place in northern Greece where amazingly steep rocky crags soar straight up into the sky.  I had a chance to visit this unusual place years ago, and to have a very unusual encounter.

I had an encounter with “The Smiling Icon.”

He’s changed the way I’ve come to do ministry and hopefully, he’s changed the way I live what’s left of my ministry life.

I think he can do that for you too.

Let me explain why, and what this ministry blog is all about.

Making the Ascent

I had ascended the paths to the centuries-old chapels, and once there, began a walking tour through one of them. I admired the ancient art on its plastered walls and was already familiar with that art form.

My boyhood Greek Orthodox heritage was rich with icons. I saw them at church, prayed before them every night, carried wallet-sized laminated versions of them in my 5th-grade wallet, and occasionally, regained my spiritual composure whilst under their thoughtful and somber gaze.

I prayed before one (the Virgin Mary) who had deep-set hooded eyes like my beautiful mother. Orthodox icons of the Virgin Mary tend to look like all Greek mothers, rolled into one. At least they did for me. And that was a good thing because I loved my mother and my mother loved me and it was beautiful to have God’s love for me reflected through the eyes of this “Holy Mother” of the incarnate Christ. God is smart that way. He knows how to pull a Greek’s heartstrings.

But I had more than just a passing encounter with icons by sheer familial osmosis or traveling to the homeland.

I once saw my beautiful mother have what she thought was a real encounter with an icon when she was in the hospital for stage 4 cancer the week before she died. She told me that while in the hospital, she fell into a deep sleep. And then when she awoke from this sleep, she saw her coat hung over the chair near the bed, and she saw a “vision” of a tiny icon of “Panagiatsi” (“Virgin Mary” to Greeks) “appearing” to her in the lining of her coat.

It wasn’t there, really—or was it? Who knows?

But it was there in her mind. And at this point in my Christian journey, I think there was something of God in this manifestation that so reassured my Mom. I think it was God’s way of letting her know that He (God) was there for her. Through the icon’s loving, holy gaze, I’m sure God spoke to her in a way He knew meant something to her—just like He often does to you and me through symbols that mean something to us. He did so with a star for the Magi (Matthew 2). He did so with peeled bark for Jacob (Genesis 31). So biblically it’s not out of reach that God could have done something like this for Mama.

Anyway, let me get back on topic.  Let me tell you what my encounter with this symbol (the Smiling Icon) did for me.

Luke, the Smiling Icon

This particular icon I saw in the chapel in Meteora was a unique iconic depiction of the Gospel writer Luke (I think!). And it was not just another cookie-cutter Greek icon. He didn’t look sad, sober, somber, appropriately religious, or contemplative. He did not look as if he were giving you a gentle but firm rebuke of how you needed to reign yourself in.

He looked happy.  He looked serene. He looked playful. He looked like he really did have joy inside him and that he could give it to you.  He looked like someone you’d want to meet and, maybe even, be like! Happy. Serene. Playful. Full of joy. Contagious joy.

He was a smiling icon.

The artist successfully depicted something of the brimming life of God that must have been in the real Luke and the early Christians. After all, they didn’t have the “Three B’s” so necessary for church growth today—buildings, bucks, and box-office-draw performer pastors. All they had was the free God WIFI (the Holy Spirit) that had fallen on all flesh. And they were so contagiously filled with Him that the faith spread shoulder-to-shoulder, explosively in a world where their faith became illegal and they didn’t have motorcycle ministries or pastors of pet therapy.

They were “Holy Spirit” hotspots. And the love in them infected others around them in ways that made a difference.

In this icon, Luke seemed to be a “Holy Spirit” hotspot. He looked like a Christian who was so deeply rooted in Christ and so receptive to Christ that it simply “showed.”

He glowed.

Christ in him “flowed.” 

You could visualize him changing a room by simply walking into it. Because he was a free-flowing conduit of the Spirit of God that all Christians have received.  And maybe that all Christians are supposed to be.

When they are, wonderful things can happen to the world around them.

From “Worshipping With Icons” to Being One

You see, I used to worship with icons.  But I’ve come to realize something.

I am an icon.

And, fellow sister and brother in our shared humanity with Christ, so are you.

The Greek word for image is the same word translated as “icons.”[1] And we were all created to be impactful and effective images (or icons) of God. We’re supposed to take icons to the next level! We’re supposed to be icons, smiling icons too—images of God more frequently than not “filled” with his presence. We’re supposed to be so filled with His presence in such overflowing ways that we “glow.” By doing so, we seed our world with Holy Spirit “hot spots.”  And when we do, we begin to activate the spiritual “homing antennas” in the hearts of others. And since we all “live and move and have our beings in Christ (Acts 17:28), we all have spiritual homing antennas—whether we believe in God or not.

That doesn’t matter. He already believes in us.

In fact, He so believes in us he generates us continually into being—on a second-by-second basis. Again, all humans “live and move and have their being “in” Him (Acts 17:28).  So I don’t have to “bring” God to any of them.  He’s already there.  All I have to do is show them where he already is and help them build on that.