I am in a winter of life not even cold enough to be crisp and sharp, but just dreary, damp, grey.. And yet God still persecutes/pursues me, and I still love this mysterious God, though Woody Allen’s description of ‘under achiever’ seems an understatement.
I write what moves me in the heart. If it moves other hearts in any way whatever, the exercise is fulfilled.
I identify with Van Gogh strongly. He had a message to convey through paint, and my message is similar though through [certain] words. The message?
Fire. There is fire.
He depicted it in nature and in night cafes, vibrating within all things, though often not seen and felt by them. He was pointing to it, and saying to all these dull human witnesses, look!
I am trying to tell the story of this fire in human life, as it passes through grief and suffering, from the lack of redemption, and is raised to a different suffering, to suffer willingly and exultingly for the sake of redemption.. Van Gogh had many colours in his palette, but I have only two= the black, the unredeemed suffering, and the red, the suffering for redemption. They are connected by Christ’s whole life, especially the Cross, Descent into Hell, and Resurrection. He came to plumb the black, and raise the red.
This is the message.
Fire has overcome. Fire is coming to us.