Hallelujah

16"x20" Oil on Canvas

with Palette Knife
SOLD

It was Easter Sunday. The service was concluding with the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah. I had planned to sing along. Having sung it for many years, the song is very familiar to me. But God silenced my mouth that day and encouraged me to listen. I closed my eyes and let my entire being embrace the music. The talented musicians and passionate voices filled my soul like wind filling the sail of a ship, carrying me away to an encounter with God. 

I saw a vision of Heaven—a vast space filled with glorious light. I was part of a landscape of souls. There were countless people, all singing and giving praise to Christ. We were all singing because we all shared the same experience. We had all been redeemed by our merciful and loving savior. There was no more judgement or disagreement for we had all been made one by grace. That reality produced an overwhelming song of "Hallelujah." Lifted up in the crowd was our beautiful savior. The one who had conquered sin and death for our sake was allowing us to praise him with all of our love and gratitude. 

Then I saw how that kingdom manifests itself in the reality of our world. People loving one another and caring for each other.  I saw the world as perhaps God sees it. Beautiful. Diverse. Delicate. Its broken places being mended with compassion and love. "The Kingdom of this world is become the Kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ. And He shall reign for ever and ever."

It was a moment that brought me to tears.

I never expected to have an experience like that. Perhaps it was the choir and the musicians putting their all into the music. Perhaps it was the composition and the words. But there's no doubt that it was a God moment. 

Breakfast at Dawn

Personally, I have never attended an Easter sunrise service. But my wife has told me how powerful they have been for her. Perhaps it’s the anticipation of glorious Easter—when we get to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord. Perhaps it’s the magic of witnessing the light of a new day—joining the morning birds to sing praises to God. There must be something special for christians to celebrate this way for so many years. However, I bet they were nothing like what the disciples experienced one beautiful morning.

The Gospel of John has a wonderful post-resurrection story. The last chapter reads like an epilogue of sorts. Peter and some disciples decide to go fishing in the night. They catch nothing. At daybreak, Jesus appears on the shore. He instructs them to cast nets again. They catch an abundance of fish. Realizing their Lord has returned, they quickly sail to shore where Jesus shares a fireside meal of bread and fish with them. Jesus then specifically speaks with Peter. Jesus asks, “do you love me” three times – one time for each betrayal Peter committed on the night of Jesus’ death. And after Peter responds “yes,” Jesus instructs him to “feed my sheep.” How wonderful that morning must have been.

In this painting, I tried to imagine that beautiful morning meal. The composition is both macro and micro. Brother sun rises over the world’s horizon—illuminating the sea with dancing light. The reflections swell to the shore where we see the abandoned boat and a circle of fellowship. Looking close, you can see a communion of grace taking place.

This is more than a sunrise breakfast. It is morning worship. God’s people abandon the work of the day, gather together to break bread and be near the Lord again. In this circle, Christ makes himself known to us, teaches us, and forgives our sins. Christ feeds us and calls us to act in love for the world.

Today, the circle spans around the world. In fact, this painting was commissioned by a patron living in Singapore. The Resurrected One calls us, from all shores, to come together and dine in grace. Wherever you are, may you answer the Lord’s loving call and join in the feast. And may the song of Alleluia, be heard all over the world.

Happy Easter.

The Seeker

What on earth is this person doing? What is she looking for? Why is she searching?

These are the questions I hope you will wonder when you first engage this painting. And when you discover the answer, I hope you wonder even more.

After stunning his critics with the parable of the lost sheep, Jesus hits them again with a sequel, “The Search for the Lost Coin”. This second parable tells the story of a woman who stays up all night searching for a single lost coin. When she finds the coin, she invites all of her friends and neighbors to come and celebrate with a big party. Only a compulsive disorder would drive a person stay up all night searching for the coin. And only a foolish person would waste the money to burn a lantern all night and throw a huge party worth many times more than the value of the coin. But it is with this kind of seemingly foolish grace that our God seeks after us.

Unlike the painting of the shepherd, who had found his sheep, I wanted to explore in this painting, the concept of searching. The woman in this piece is turning her home upside down in search of the lost treasure (a coin, a ring, a remote control... it doesn’t matter). The coin is never revealed in order to engage you and get you to wonder what might be worth ransacking a home in the middle of the night. Borrowing from chiaroscuro masters like Rembrant and Caravaggio, the subject is brought to light out of night’s darkness. You can faintly see the overturned chair and basket in the background. The woman’s hair is unkept. You can see that this is a long and ongoing search, and it is consuming all of the her time and energy. Is she looking under a bed, or under something strewn on the floor? Is she looking under there for the first time? Or second? Or Third? The whole point to this mystery is to meditate on the seeker and wonder about that which is lost.

Each and every one of us is God’s most treasured possession. That includes you, me, and the countless invisible, untouchable and unlovable people out there in the world. And when even one of us is lost, God will stop at nothing to get us back. There is no limit to how long God will try. There is no resource God will not employ. Eternally seeking. Even in the darkest places, in the dead of night, God still seeks to find us. We might think its crazy that God would care so much for so many and go through so much fuss over even the worst of us. But to God, we are all worth it.

Lost and Found

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus shares three parables to teach a lesson to his critics. The first is a story of a shepherd who abandons his flock to search for a single lost sheep. Once you get over the shock of the thought of a shepherd leaving 99 sheep to search for the one lost sheep, you discover the story really is about a more individualistic relationship with God. We are so prone to wander off like a lost lamb. God relentlessly pursues after us to find us and bring us home.

This painting explores the relationship of the shepherd and the sheep during their time spent together on the long journey home. There are many clues to their experience in the layers of paint. The shepherd has rescued the lamb from a forboding place far away from the pasture. He has been searching for a long time and distance. His face is blistered by wind and sun. The elements are harsh. There are rocks, thorny bushes, and strong winds. The shepherd is relieved that he as found his sheep. He holds the sheep securely on his shoulders, determined to not let the sheep get away. His weathered face reveals smiling eyes of joy and relief as he casts a loving look to the sheep, as if to say, “You little stinker”. The sheep rests peacefully on the shoulders and still kind of looks away, as if to still be tempted to want to go another direction. Warmed by the sunlight breaking through the stormy sky, and being rocked gently by the rhythm of the shepherd’s march, the sheep’s eyes begin to close on the brink of a much needed sleep. Both the sheep and the shepherd keep each other warm from the harsh winds by huddling close together. They are no longer alone. They are now in this mess together.

In today’s culture, its hard to paint the concept of a savior. So many images of Christ on a cross make us desensitized to the enormity of Christ’s sacrifice. And the whole concept of a sacrifice seems foreign to us. But here in the story of a shepherd and a sheep, we can get a glimpse of our Living Savior. A savior who relentlessly pursues after us to the ends of the earth. A savior who never gives up. A savior who rescues us, delivers us on his shoulders, and suffers with us as we journey together on the long trek home.

Let the Children Come

“Not now, I’m Busy.” How many times have we adults and parents brushed away a child asking us for something or inviting us into their world with words like these? We can get so caught up in our busy lives that we all too often think we have too little time or patience for children. Our tasks can seem so important compared to a child’s seemingly trivial concerns. If there was any adult who had so much “important” work as to not have time for children, it would have been Jesus. But, in the midst of his journey towards Jerusalem, when the pressure to get his message out was great, Jesus made time for children. When his disciples scolded their parents for bothering the Master with someone so trivial as children, Jesus rebukes them by saying, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

Children are like lights. They sparkle with wonder, imagination, love and faith. The second we take the time to stop what we’re doing and welcome a child into our heart, we become illuminated by their light. And for a moment, our worries go away and our burdens are lightened. It is this magic that I tried to capture in paint.

Although the scene here is not literal to the context of the story, I believe the message still speaks. Jesus often went off by himself to pray. I imagined him taking such a rest under a tree in the heat of the day. Some children, who may have been playing near by, happen across Jesus. More children of different ages approach Jesus. Some are reserved. Some frolic and prance, some tug and play with his cloak. Jesus welcomes them all. The scene is speckled with light dancing through the trees. And the Kingdom of God is displayed.

So the next time a child comes to you to show you their drawing, tell you what they’ve discovered, asks you for help, or invites you to play tag, take a moment and welcome them into your so busy and complicated life. You just might be enlightened by a glimpse of the Kingdom of God.

The Emmaus Road

This is an oil painting of the post-resurrection story found in the Gospel of Luke. It depicts the disciples and Jesus on the road to Emmaus. The piece was intended to convey the feeling of new life, grace and worship. The fragmented colors and light in the tree tops are abstracted to resemble stained glass. The trees cross each other to resemble archways. I wanted to make the point that this is the new day of the Church. A new world where Christ reveals himself to us, journeys with us, comforts us and ministers to us. A Church where we glorify God and minister to each other daily in the most beautiful cathedral ever built, this Good Earth. More than just a painting of a story, this piece is a vision of today’s reality, when seen through eyes of faith.

Have a beautiful day.

Suffering with Job

Every now and then, we are reminded of the reality that bad things happen in life, and there's nothing we can do to stop it. The story of Job is one such reminder in the Bible. It is brutally honest in exploring the idea that we are helpless against the tragedies of life. It flies in the face of conventional wisdom that God will protect the faithful from calamity. Job shows us that faith does not protect us from tragedy. It only determines how we live with it. And I'm intrigued at how Job deals with his. He lost everything: home, family, his own health. And for a long time he waited to hear an response from God as to why God would punish him so badly. His friends tried to convince him that he must have done something wrong to make God angry. Job maintains his innocence. And when he get his chance to speak with God, he complains and confronts God. To which God replies "Where were you when I formed the foundations of the world?" in essence saying, "What do you know about the universe, little creature?" Job is silent. He then moves on to rebuild his life.

Every day, the world is filled with "Job" moments. Some are massive, like hurricane Katrina or earthquakes in Haiti. Some personal, like being diagnosed with cancer or loosing a loved one. All are moments where our support beams (money, family, faith, etc.) are swept out from under us. It causes us to question why a loving, all powerful God would allow such horrors to happen. Thankfully, God is big enough to hear our outcry and accusations of injustice and not be offended. God suffers along side of us and comforts us in gentle ways that no else can. It is one of God's great mysteries that we may never understand.

The Job story is living out in the lives of countless Haitians today. I recall a story about one Haitian man who survived the disaster along with his family and home. He wanted to do something to help in a helpless situation. So he went to the hospital and sat among the victims. He sat with them, held them, and listened to their stories. Such a story inspires me. During times of tragedy, I often lack the words to say and the ability to aid. But "just being there" for someone is something I think I can do.

This pen and ink drawing of Job spends most of its days in my closet. It's not the sort of thing we enjoy hanging over our living room mantle. But every now and then, it gets pulled out for reflection. Some have used it as a visual aid in classes on the story of Job. I guess life kind of goes the same way. We hide the ugly in our closets until we are ready to see it. So I bring it out today to share with you. And so, on this blog where beauty is often displayed, may Job always be with us to remind us and humble us. As dark as this drawing is, it is mild compared to the real portraits of pain and suffering in our world. I pray that when we meet Jobs out there in life, we may have the love to suffer with them.

Peace be with you all.

The Vine

Every fall, for the past few years, I have had the honor of exhibiting my work in an art show/sale for St. Matthew’s Catholic Church. The premiss of the show is to raise funds for the church by selling "faith-inspired" art. Although I’m not Catholic, this is right up my alley. Many of the pieces you will see on my blog have been in these shows. My wife, Rhonda, and I have an agreement: I can devote the time to paint for the show as long as I come up with something we would put up in our home in case it didn't sell. Fair enough.

The inspiration for this piece came from three origins. The first creative germ came from the Gospel of John, chapter 15. "I am the vine, you are the branches. Remain in me and you will bear much fruit." This scripture was read at our wedding, and has always been a core scripture for us. The second germ came from a childhood memory of Rhonda's. As a child, she used to play hide and seek under the beams of grape vines in a vineyard. She told of how light danced about underneath the canopy of grapes. She described to me how the support frames for the vines reminded her of a cross. And finally, Rhonda has always wanted a piece depicting the elements of communion in a natural way. So after blending the three ideas together, and doing some research, I created this piece entitled "The Vine".

There actually is a lot of things going on in this piece. At first glance, it looks like a cross with grapes hanging form it. But the support structure is actually "T-shaped". I deliberately hid that fact with a bunch of grapes to create the "allusion" of a cross. This makes the connection to the verse. It also speaks to one of the great "I AM" sayings about Jesus and God's Sacrificial Love that is the foundation for our love. There is a lot of light dancing about in the scene, peaking thru the leaves, ripening the grapes and casting shadows on the beam. This makes the piece very elemental with themes of Earth, Light and Communion. The grapes are turning to full ripeness. They are in the process of turning. Some faster than others. Not yet fully ripe. Not all green. So is the community of faith, or our own personal faith.

Happily for Rhonda, this piece never sold. Probably because it was really meant for her. It now hangs in our foyer. There is a lot of natural light in our foyer which accentuates the light in the painting. So if you ever stop by to visit and see it, you'll know the backstory behind it.

Wherever you are in the vine of God's Love, may you continue to bloom. And as we play in the fields of our God and come to the table of Grace, may this painting be a reminder of our identity and relationship to our Lord.