Archive for January, 2017

Just Another Comic

For years my grandfather had a painting in his office in the basement of his home. It was a series of tiles that he had painted many years ago that told the story of a cowboy and his relationship to God.

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Part of me always loved this piece because I felt that I could relate to this cowboy. For the past several years (ever since I served as Summer Staff with Young Life up at Saranac Village in New York, the summer of 2007), I feel closest to God out in the wilderness. During my time in AmeriCorps, I would seek him out in the mountains and forests while we served.

I think there is a natural longing to be closer to creation that draws us out into the wild. I know that when I’m away from the noise and stress of city life, I can hear God more clearly. I can still myself in His presence.

Every time I would visit my grandfather, even as a child, I would sneak down to his office to look at this short comic.

Several months ago, my grandfathers health started to fail and he has since moved into a full-time healthcare facility. His home now stands empty, except for memories that were experienced within those walls. The comic on those tiles has been removed and has found a new home with one of my uncles.

One night, while doodling in my sketchbook, this comic strip came back to me and I started drawing. I pulled up the only image I had of my grandfathers work and started the process of transferring it in an attempt to preserve the images for my family.

I started drawing it, and when I shared some of the work in progress with my dad, he laughed a little and told me that he believed grandpa copied it from a comic that used to run in the newspaper.

Well, this sparked my interest, and after a quick search through the power of the internet (using the two characters who had been named) I discovered that it had been copied from a comic.

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It’s from the comic Rick O’Shay by Stan Lynde that ran from 1958 to 1981.

While I couldn’t find the original date that this specific comic was published, finding the original story made this process of drawing so much more fulfilling. I recently finished the drawings and have gifted them to my father for Christmas.

(Note: They are on two separate pages, each approx 15 x 15″)

And while some people may look at it as just another comic, it is so much more than that. It is a memory. And a statement of faith. And a piece of family that we can hold onto.

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Struggle To Make Words Go

I used to love writing. I looked forwards to it because it allowed me to discover the language of words. It was another form of expression when painting and drawing didn’t work out as planned.

I used to enjoy putting words down on the page and share my story.

In a way, I still love and enjoy writing, but so much has changed.

Over a year ago I started working as a Telecommunicator. I am a 911 operator and a dispatcher. For 12 hours at a time, I sit in front of six computer screens and follow the stories of peoples worst days. I put on the headset and listen to their voices and the cries for help. And I document what information I can gather.

I write down their stories in every call. And in my head, I continue to write long after I leave the communications center.

Writing has changed for me. Stories have changed me. But the words must be put down.

So, when I return home, it is a struggle to continue writing. But sometimes we must press on. There are stories that must be told. Stories that must be shared with the world. And while it has become a struggle to find words at times, I continue to push through to put words onto the page.

The Child Born

But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
– Luke 1:30-33

While they were there (in Bethlehem), the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.
– Luke 2:6-7

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. …

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God – children born not of natural descent, nor of human decisions or a husband’s will, but born of God.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
– John 1:1-5, 9-14

Just over a week ago, we celebrated Christmas. The celebration of the birth of Jesus and the coming of God as a child into this world. Over the years I have tended not to like this season of the year, the commercialization of the society in which we find ourselves surrounded by things. I’ve often wondered if we fail to truly comprehend what the birth of this child really means to us. To our faith.

I consider myself a Christian. A follower of Jesus Christ. A disciple. A student. Someone who is still trying to find the words to say what this means.

The child that was wrapped in cloths and placed in a manger was so much more than just a new-born infant. He was the Son of God. Fully human, yet fully God. He was the promise that was made to the people of God. He was born the Savior and the King. He was the Word.

At that time, the people of Israel were expecting something so different. They had expectations of a savior and king who would come down and free them from the reign of Rome. They expected a military leader like David. A messiah who would establish a physical kingdom.

But yet, God humbled himself to be born into the world as a small child who had to flee his home and live in Egypt as a refugee while the current king of Jerusalem, Herod, tried to have him killed.

This was a child who grew up with a father who made his living as a carpenter. A mother who knew who he was, because the angel Gabriel told her who he would be. Mary knew that the son she gave birth to was also the Son of God, but she could never comprehend what that would entail once he grew and began his ministry and teaching his followers.

One of the only Christmas songs that I like is “Mary, Did You Know?” and I feel that most of us can relate. Do we ever really know what God is going to do in our lives?

This child that was born had come to die for us. He came, free of sin, to be put to death in our place, so that we may once again be the children of God.

And while the official holiday season seems to be behind us, followers of Jesus celebrate every day because we have received another day to live a life of praise. We celebrate because we are in a relationship with Abba, our Father in Heaven, who is our Lord and King over every breath we breathe. We celebrate because the Son of God came to forgive our sins and shed his blood so that we may once again be in the presence of God. Because our savior not only died for all our sins, the ones we have committed and have yet to commit, but defeated death and rose again so that we may have eternal life.

This is the child who was born that day. This is the child that the shepherds found in the manger. This is the child whose birth we continue to celebrate by living the life he has called us to live.