City on a Hill

 April 3, 2015
“A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel.”
—Matthew 5:14–16

Christ concludes this passage with an invitation rather than a command: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”

I have often thought it would be easier to be a candle under a bushel.

I don’t consider myself shy, but I am reserved, and quietly contemplative. I do not seek attention for its own sake—especially the kind of attention that can accompany openly expressing Christian convictions in a public space. Visibility carries risk, and standing for belief can invite misunderstanding or criticism. Still, I would rather answer to God for honest obedience than remain silent out of fear of human judgment.

Although this blog centers on my creative work—art, writing, and mythology—there will be moments when my faith is visible here as well. That is not because I intend to preach, persuade, or position myself as an authority, but because faith is inseparable from who I am. To omit it entirely would be to present a fragmented version of myself, and ultimately an untruthful one.

You are free to engage with or disregard those aspects as you choose. I simply cannot, in good conscience, pretend they are not present.

My belief in God informs how I understand creativity itself. Scripture frequently refers to God as the Creator, and I believe that artistic creation—when approached with humility and reverence—is one way of reflecting that divine attribute. To make something meaningful where nothing existed before is, in its own small way, an act of worship and gratitude.

This belief also shapes how I engage with mythology. I do not see ancient stories as standing in opposition to Christian truth, but as evidence of humanity’s shared impulse to seek meaning, order, and the divine. Across cultures and civilizations, recurring narratives—creation, fall, sacrifice, redemption—appear again and again, told in different languages and symbols. These stories do not threaten my faith; they deepen my appreciation for it.

In sharing both my creative work and the values that inform it, I do not claim perfection. I am like anyone else—learning, failing, repenting, growing. The purpose of letting one’s light shine is not self-exaltation, but orientation: pointing toward something higher than oneself.

If my work reflects beauty, meaning, or truth, then the credit belongs ultimately to the Source of those gifts.

You can read more about how I understand art as a form of creation here, or view my artist statement here.