I went on a grand journey. It was back in 2014. I walked with Jesus. It wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t “real.” However, it happened. I guess you could call it a vision, but that doesn’t make it any less real. During Christmas, we celebrate the manifestation of Christ in human form. We remember the journey He took to arrive here on Earth. I look at this Epiphany story from the outside. I am not a participant. My walk with Jesus in 2014 is different. I remember every step. I can feel it all: His touch, His presence, and His message to me. This was (and is) my Epiphany story. I was inside it, and it was just Him and me. I remember it all like it was yesterday. I have retraced this walk by painting it. I tried to capture the whole story on my canvas. I have tried to communicate what I discovered on the way. These creations are my best stab at describing what happened, and how I returned home from this journey completely the same and completely new. I am, in many ways, less connected to my faith than I have been in a long time: it has been pretty much deconstructed. All I have left, at the bottom of it all, is this experience. When all else fails, I remember this strange journey that I took, and that moors me. Jesus really came to Earth. His story is true. He came as a child, grew to be a man, and loved us enough to give his life to reveal that love. I don’t know this because the Bible says so or because my church says so. I know it because I walked with Him on the beach in complete peace. Here, I gathered the gift of knowing that one day I would return to Him by the shores of the sea and choose to stay. I truly believe that I could have chosen to stay on the shores with him in 2014. It was on those shores, though, that I learned why I should come back: while I would continue to completely mess everything up upon my return, I still had a path and a purpose that transcended my brokenness. Daily, I would love poorly, but I would give loving my best shot. For those I love, this is better than living life without me. In this magnificent moment I saw that I am enough as I am: no better and no worse. By His grace, I walk this Earth. By His grace, one day I will walk the beach with Him again. I look at my recreation of this experience, and it is not a masterpiece. I really bit off much more than I can chew here. Visions are wholly intangible. I painted it to sear this epiphany into my heart with my paintbrush, so I will never forget. This, I attained to some degree. That is very good because this is what I have left at my spiritual bottom. This is the new place from which I glean my faith on my journey.
Reader's Note: The ECVA (Episcopal Church and Visual Arts) exhibition titled Stories from the Road shares "From Where I Glean My Faith."
I went on a grand journey. It was back in 2014. I walked with Jesus. It wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t “real.” However, it happened. I guess you could call it a vision, but that doesn’t make it any less real. During Christmas, we celebrate the manifestation of Christ in human form. We remember the journey He took to arrive here on Earth. I look at this Epiphany story from the outside. I am not a participant. My walk with Jesus in 2014 is different. I remember every step. I can feel it all: His touch, His presence, and His message to me. This was (and is) my Epiphany story. I was inside it, and it was just Him and me. I remember it all like it was yesterday. I have retraced this walk by painting it. I tried to capture the whole story on my canvas. I have tried to communicate what I discovered on the way. These creations are my best stab at describing what happened, and how I returned home from this journey completely the same and completely new. I am, in many ways, less connected to my faith than I have been in a long time: it has been pretty much deconstructed. All I have left, at the bottom of it all, is this experience. When all else fails, I remember this strange journey that I took, and that moors me. Jesus really came to Earth. His story is true. He came as a child, grew to be a man, and loved us enough to give his life to reveal that love. I don’t know this because the Bible says so or because my church says so. I know it because I walked with Him on the beach in complete peace. Here, I gathered the gift of knowing that one day I would return to Him by the shores of the sea and choose to stay. I truly believe that I could have chosen to stay on the shores with him in 2014. It was on those shores, though, that I learned why I should come back: while I would continue to completely mess everything up upon my return, I still had a path and a purpose that transcended my brokenness. Daily, I would love poorly, but I would give loving my best shot. For those I love, this is better than living life without me. In this magnificent moment I saw that I am enough as I am: no better and no worse. By His grace, I walk this Earth. By His grace, one day I will walk the beach with Him again. I look at my recreation of this experience, and it is not a masterpiece. I really bit off much more than I can chew here. Visions are wholly intangible. I painted it to sear this epiphany into my heart with my paintbrush, so I will never forget. This, I attained to some degree. That is very good because this is what I have left at my spiritual bottom. This is the new place from which I glean my faith on my journey.
Reader’s Note: The ECVA (Episcopal Church and Visual Arts) exhibition titled Stories from the Road shares “From Where I Glean My Faith.”
Journey on Canvas Blog: A Place to Share Hope on Your Journey
Journey on Canvas is a spiritual autobiography and spiritual journaling site. The Journey on Canvas Blog will give you ideas for your spiritual journal and give you opportunities to share your spiritual story. This blog is also a place to find hope on your journey. Read, blog with me, and enjoy!
Tears for Dancing, Age 42
The older I get the less I think about what I can get out of this life. Bad things happen here on Earth and no one is immune. I see my parents suffering, I watch terrible things happen to my friends and I see catastrophic events that create hell on Earth. Revelation 21:4 promises that someday God will wipe every tear from our eyes and the old order of things will pass away. I’m beginning to think that this promise isn’t so far away: it’s just waiting for us at the next stop. Maybe when we die we trade our tears for dancing and enter Heaven. Until then, I'm going to paint, I'm going to write, and I'm going to share when I find hope in this life. That's why I'm here at Journey on Canvas.
