I don’t know when it first appeared in that mental hopper that creates and develops ideas.
I don’t know what prompted it, either.
I do know the passage of scripture that best describes it, though. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path” (Psalms 119: 105).
The composition is a simple one. A man walking. He’s at the left side of the composition, walking toward the right side. The entire canvas is black. The man is cloaked in blackness, but is holding a lamp. The blackness is so black that the lamp can’t be seen. Nor can the man other than where one foot strides forward into the circle of light shed by the lamp.
In spite of this, his stride is long and confident. He’s not tip-toeing along. He’s walking out as though by the bright light of day.
Over the years, the composition has developed from that simple design to a more complicated one. The background, for example, has shifted slightly from total black to a dark blue-black populated by images of everyday challenges and extraordinary stressers. Wars and rumors of wars. Famine. Illness. Death. You name it. It’s there, lurking in the shadows.
The place where the man walks has changed from a flat path to a rocky, narrow path. There is the vague suggestion of ascents and descents in the path. It even looks a bit narrow here and there.
Interestingly enough, every time I face a challenge or trial, that painting in my mind takes on added dimension. It’s been a fascinating thing to watch come to life in my mind.
With the current spate of world events, I find myself thinking about that painting more often, seeing how truly dark the world really is and how short-sighted we all are when it comes to understanding truth and foreseeing what’s going to happen in the next year, the next month, the next week, the next day, the next minute. Only the lamp of faith illuminates our path.
I have in my mind a painting of faith.