I used this picture for something else artsy in my hometown (so if you are from the same place I am, perhaps you will recognize this picture), something that didn't have to be signed. I'm glad that it got out there a little bit because even though it's not well-painted, and despite the fact that I am not brave enough to claim it as mine, it means something to me that I painted this image.
Painting it was the first time I really gave expression to how I felt as a member of Courage. That pain spent so long locked up inside of me, and when I painted this picture it was almost compulsive - I had to paint it, all I had was a visual image of how to express what I was feeling.
At that time, words were not and could not be enough. I felt like, just by painting this image - even though I tucked it away in my prayer space, even though I've never really shown it off - somehow, by expressing it, it lessened my pain just a little.
See, in order to crucify my sexuality, I had to crucify my heart also. I've often prayed to God, begging Him to take my heart down from the cross.
I mean, didn't His Son come to be crucified, so that we wouldn't have to be crucified?
It seems to me now, that as long as I was trying to crucify my sexuality, God couldn't take my heart down from that cross, because I was the one driving the nails in, I was the one holding myself there. Our sexuality is one of the vehicles through which we express human love, love which belongs to the heart.
So as long as I was determined to crucify a part of my heart, my whole heart was stuck there, and slowly dying on that cross along with my sexuality was the rest of my emotional being.
It makes me think of a Tori Amos song I like, so I'll end this posting with that song:
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