One of my favourite cartoons from a pastor’s magazine had “For God so loved the world” graffitied onto a building. The caption below said, “Evandelism.” Well, we don’t encourage painting buildings unless you’re employed to do so. But there is some funny graffiti out there. A huge billboard says, “This year thousands of men will die from stubbornness.” Below is spray-painted, “No we won’t.” “Graffiti keeps rent low,” is scrawled in large print on a Chicago building. On a “Lane Closed” road sign the letters P and T are added, so it says, “Planet Closed.” Below the sign “In case of fire, do not use elevator,” someone spray-painted “use water.” In large letters on a plywood divider in the city of Calgary it said, “Bill posters will be prosecuted.” Below, it says, “Bill Posters is an innocent man.” In huge letters on a brick building in Los Angeles are two words: “Panic calmly.” And, “On this spot on New Year’s Day 2000 nothing happened.”
But something amazing happened that day. It all started in Australia in the 1940s, when an illiterate alcoholic heard a sermon and came to faith in Jesus. He was cured of his alcoholism and grew in his relationship with God. One day, he heard a preacher shout one single word in a sermon, and it became his prayer and wish that all of Sydney, Australia would hear that word and contemplate what it meant. The preacher described it to him as a one-word-sermon and when he did, it was like a lightning bolt of revelation struck that former alcoholic’s heart.
So he found some chalk, and in beautiful flowing script wrote the word on the sidewalk. His name was Arthur Stace, and he had no idea how he, who had never learned to read or write, managed to write the word. For the next 35 years he wandered through the streets of Sydney at night and in the early mornings, writing the word wherever he could, in the same artsy script on buildings, sidewalks, and subway walls. One newspaper estimated that he would go on to write that one-word sermon 500,000 times.
The city took notice and newspapers searched for the mysterious chalk artist. But no one could discover his identity or photograph him, and he never stepped forward. Then, in 1956, a preacher caught him writing the word and learned his name. In 35 years, only four photographs were taken of the secretive Arthur Stace.
The story became such an important part of Sydney’s folklore that it took center stage on New Year’s Eve 1999, the eve of a new millennium.
As many huddled in their homes believing that Y2K would usher in the end of the world, TV networks around the world brought New Year’s Eve fireworks and festivities from New York to Amsterdam. But the city of Sydney, Australia stood out as it honoured Arthur Stace by emblazoning that one word across the famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. It looked hand-written—except it was the size of the massive structure. The word? Eternity.
During the fireworks show, cameras focused in on that word, and millions of viewers worldwide heard the story of this former alcoholic who found Jesus.
Not bad for an illiterate man with a piece of chalk.
For the elusive “Mr. Eternity,” as newspapers dubbed him, it was his way of asking others to consider their eternal destiny. For some it was a curious sight. For Christians, it was a welcome reminder that whatever the future holds, God holds us in his hands. A reminder of the wonderful promises we have in Christ. That we have nothing to fear. He will be with us. He will bring us home one day. Happy New Year.
