"The Portrait" - Fr Mark Beard
The Portrait You Paint
If somebody were to paint a portrait of your life —what would that painting look like?
This is the question Fr. Mark Beard left echoing in our minds before his death. A question not of vanity, but of eternity. A question not painted in oils, but in the very choices of our lives.
In this moment—captured on Medjugorje's sacred hill—Fr. Mark kneels before an apparition of Our Lady pregnant with hope. It is the moment heaven interrupted his life. The moment God revealed his future and the urgency of his mission: to build something eternal, something sacred, and to build it quickly on the foundation of Christ and His Church.
Like Peter, Fr. Mark understood that God does not paint the portraits we paint of ourselves.
We paint ourselves with degrees, with accomplishments, with careers and credentials. But God painted Peter crucified upside down with the words: "This is my rock, and I did build my church on him". He painted Simon of Cyrene drenched in blood, carrying the cross. He painted Longinus with his back to the world, facing only the crucifix, proclaiming "Truly that man was the Son of God".
And Fr. Mark? His portrait would show a man in prayer, with a rosary, the Eucharist, the Church—nothing else.
"I am begging you. You do not know the hour or the day."
These are not comfortable words. They are not meant to be. Fr. Mark's voice breaks open in this homily with an urgency that refuses to be ignored. He is pleading with us to understand: the portrait we paint with our lives is our passport to heaven. And if the dominant image in that portrait is not the Church—not Christ Himself, not the Eucharist at its center—then there is nothing anyone can do.
Not you. Not me. Not even Christ can save a portrait pointed away from Him.
Near All Souls' Day, as we remember the faithful departed, we are confronted with the same question Fr. Mark posed in his final homily: What portrait are you painting?
Will it have the rosary? The seven sacraments? The sign of the Eucharist? Will it show you on your knees in prayer, or will it show a life consumed by the world— "immediately worthless upon our death"?
Fr. Mark's words pierce through darkness with the force of a man who knew his time was short. See what a life devoted entirely to the Church looks like.
This painting is not a memorial. It is a mission statement.
It is the beginning of a visual testimony documenting Fr. Mark's conversion, his retreat center, his community in Christ, and the mystical body he built in urgent obedience to heaven's call. More is coming. But begin here—on this holy hill, with a man on his knees before the throne of heaven, painting his life with the only image that matters.
"The portrait that you and I paint is the way we live our lives. And if the dominant point in your background is not of the Church, there's nothing I'm going to be able to do. Nor you. Be careful of the portrait that you paint."
Amen.
All Prints - hand signed by artist - Jacob Zumo
The Portrait You Paint
If somebody were to paint a portrait of your life —what would that painting look like?
This is the question Fr. Mark Beard left echoing in our minds before his death. A question not of vanity, but of eternity. A question not painted in oils, but in the very choices of our lives.
In this moment—captured on Medjugorje's sacred hill—Fr. Mark kneels before an apparition of Our Lady pregnant with hope. It is the moment heaven interrupted his life. The moment God revealed his future and the urgency of his mission: to build something eternal, something sacred, and to build it quickly on the foundation of Christ and His Church.
Like Peter, Fr. Mark understood that God does not paint the portraits we paint of ourselves.
We paint ourselves with degrees, with accomplishments, with careers and credentials. But God painted Peter crucified upside down with the words: "This is my rock, and I did build my church on him". He painted Simon of Cyrene drenched in blood, carrying the cross. He painted Longinus with his back to the world, facing only the crucifix, proclaiming "Truly that man was the Son of God".
And Fr. Mark? His portrait would show a man in prayer, with a rosary, the Eucharist, the Church—nothing else.
"I am begging you. You do not know the hour or the day."
These are not comfortable words. They are not meant to be. Fr. Mark's voice breaks open in this homily with an urgency that refuses to be ignored. He is pleading with us to understand: the portrait we paint with our lives is our passport to heaven. And if the dominant image in that portrait is not the Church—not Christ Himself, not the Eucharist at its center—then there is nothing anyone can do.
Not you. Not me. Not even Christ can save a portrait pointed away from Him.
Near All Souls' Day, as we remember the faithful departed, we are confronted with the same question Fr. Mark posed in his final homily: What portrait are you painting?
Will it have the rosary? The seven sacraments? The sign of the Eucharist? Will it show you on your knees in prayer, or will it show a life consumed by the world— "immediately worthless upon our death"?
Fr. Mark's words pierce through darkness with the force of a man who knew his time was short. See what a life devoted entirely to the Church looks like.
This painting is not a memorial. It is a mission statement.
It is the beginning of a visual testimony documenting Fr. Mark's conversion, his retreat center, his community in Christ, and the mystical body he built in urgent obedience to heaven's call. More is coming. But begin here—on this holy hill, with a man on his knees before the throne of heaven, painting his life with the only image that matters.
"The portrait that you and I paint is the way we live our lives. And if the dominant point in your background is not of the Church, there's nothing I'm going to be able to do. Nor you. Be careful of the portrait that you paint."
Amen.
All Prints - hand signed by artist - Jacob Zumo