Narrative:

The title for this painting, Love Keeps No Record, is a nod to the oft-quoted passage from the Bible:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs… (The New International Version 1 Co 13:4–5)

Though I’ve probably heard this passage recited mostly in the context of wedding ceremonies, Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians weren’t actually aimed at giving marriage advice to newlyweds on their wedding day. Instead, the famous “love passage” was written to a church–a pretty messed up church–filled with infighting, corruption, arrogance, selfishness, intolerance, judgmentalism, and classism. 

No thanks.

The apostle Paul wrote these words and the entire letter to the Corinthians as a call to, “CUT IT OUT!” He was basically saying:

“Instead of treating people terribly, and only thinking about yourselves all the time, why not try love?” 

“Why not be patient with others?” 

“Why not actually listen to what others have to say?” 

“Instead of being angry and outraged all the time and jumping at the opportunity to cut others down and point out other people’s flaws, why not honor others?” 

“Why do you spend your time keeping a record of all the things other people have done wrong, and yet you won’t apologize when you screw up???”

When I painted this painting, I was asking myself similar questions.

After serving for 13 years as a pastor, I made the decision in late 2023 to leave pastoral ministry altogether. Why? Because I had been serving in a church that looked a lot like the dysfunctional and corrupted Corinthian church that Paul wrote to. And worst of all, though I had suffered some wounds from this toxic and un-loving culture, I had also been an active participant. I was becoming increasingly impatient. Intolerant. Angry. Unkind. Arrogant. Judgmental.

It was time to go.

This painting, like many of my paintings, was a spiritual exercise–a meditation on my time in ministry and specifically on what it looks like to overlook my record of the wrongs of others and to work to love and consider others instead. 

You’ll notice that the canvas of the painting includes very small dots in 8 different colors. These dots were all applied in ~0.01mL increments with one of my insulin syringes (FYI I’m a Type 1 Diabetic)—resulting in a little over 20,000 dots. These 20,000 dots represent 13 years of daily insulin injections. 

I typically downplay the difficulties of having Type 1 Diabetes; but, in reality, it’s a difficult disease to manage. It affects just about every aspect of my life–always buzzing there in the background–though most people would have no idea. I’ve had it since I was a child, but for this painting I wanted to consider how my disease had been buzzing on in the background along with everything else I dealt with while serving as a pastor for those 13 years.

You’ll also notice, though, that these dots aren’t the subject of the painting. They play a behind the scenes role—my self portrait is the main character, painted on jute cord suspended about an inch in front of the canvas.

I wanted to find a way to draw attention to the many things going on behind the scenes in an individual’s life…things that we don’t see—like the ongoing maintenance of a difficult disease, thousands of thoughts racing through a persons head, tragic experiences, excitement for new opportunities…etc.

When we interact with people, we see faces, and we can only really interact with the surface. And in these interactions, we tend to record, in our own minds, what we thought of each interaction…what we liked about a person or what we didn’t like…what they did…what they said…and all of this goes into our mind’s own record, to help us understand what to think about a person and how we want to relate to them moving forward.

This painting is all about the frivolous nature of these records we keep. How quickly we come to a judgment about a person, without even having the ability to count the fullness of what’s going on beneath the surface. This work was a meditation for myself to consider the fullness of the people I interact with, and the beauty of working to love people beyond my personal records of surface-level interactions.

This painting imagines a world where we could look past the surface to love, appreciate, and graciously interact with one another. Like painting 20,000 individual dots, treating others this way can be hard work, and a hard practice. I’ve not always done this well. But I’m learning.