This painting speaks to the mystery of the Vine being woven into us—perhaps most profoundly during seasons when God feels distant. My visual inspiration comes from the tradition of the Sublime in art history, where the grandeur and power of nature evoke awe, wonder, and the nearness of something beyond ourselves. I wanted the landscape to carry the weight of an approaching storm while simultaneously holding the quiet promise of hope.
The painting began with Jesus's words in John 15:5, "I am the vine; you are the branches...remain in me." As I worked, I couldn't separate those words from the opening of John's Gospel, which intentionally echoes Genesis. "In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:4-5).
That thread led me back to Genesis 1. "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth... darkness was over the surface of the deep... and God said, 'Let there be light'" (Genesis 1:1-3).
The painting became an exploration of that movement—from creation, through darkness. I wanted the work to reflect this forming of light out of the dark and empty spaces and connects with us in our own dark nights when all seems lost —that continually brought me back to one word: remain.
Throughout the process I kept asking: What kind of God takes on human flesh and gives himself away? The answer I kept returning to is this: the God who pursues us until he brings us home.
The invitation of the painting is simple: Stay. Remain. Stay connected to me.
This piece is ultimately for the prodigal in all of us. It is an invitation to return home —to remain, again and again and again.