I'm reading about prophets. I've been reading the Bible. IT is what I read most of the time, and when I don't read it, I look at the paintings, yawn, scratch my hair, listen to the sounds out my window, feeL hot, feel like what do I do now or next, I become lost. I become afraid. I feel doubt. I lose faith. All I know is this, much work is to be done, many paintings, for whom I say, for ALL, for GOD, for the truth, for beautY.

I find that when my studio is a mess, it is hard for me to paint, I grow tired. But it is then when I draw. I cry out to God that I want to see Him. To touch his Hem of the garment. To eat from his crumbs. To pour oil on his feet. To kiss theM. God seems faR away. Does he to you? Or is he close, right with you on the couch? I want to be close with Him. CrY at his feet, I do. I want to Believe in Him and His words.

Christianity, such a claim it makes. Preposterous almost or is. God is Loving, Caring, Good all times, Just. Then we have, WAR, PoVerty, Babies in dumpsters.

Why this? How this?

Somehow, I still belieVe it, not in the institution of the church or the history of the religion, but in the possibility of a God, of a God-man who redeemed the world with hope, suffered in hell on our behalf. The War, Poverty, babies in dumpsters, the very reason why he chose to become human and die, suffer for all. Love.
His grace gives me strength and Belief in the Art.