Description
As the Exodus Journey unfolded on the Wake-Up Call, I (J. D. Walt) commissioned my adult son, David, with an impossible challenge. I asked him to tell the story of Exodus through a single painting. He titled the piece, “Ex Deus.” Upon seeing it I immediately noted how he had misspelled Exodus. He replied, “Dad! It is Latin. It means, “From God.”
Included in the published book is a grey scale rendition. The artwork is available here in full color print form on an 8.5 x 11 inch page in landscape format with the actual artwork at 5 x 10 inches.
Further Interpretive Description
Before pressing forward, be warned of a SPOILER ALERT. In the interest of discovering one’s own joyful epiphanies through the exploration of art, the curious traveler may elect to forego the artist’s dad’s interpretive description to follow.
I hoped you would join me. There is so much to notice and appreciate. In the foreground to the right is the classic “memento mori” marker, which means, “Remember, you must die.” Just across in the left foreground we behold the mystery manifested by ten words: “The bush was on fire. It did not burn up.” The stark contrast between the two images implies a choice between them. Upon further reflection, the deeper wisdom of the Son of God whispers. “Whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.” The life on fire yet not consumed may only be accessed by passing through the memento mori. The secret to life is to die before you die. It harkens us to Desert Fathers and Abbot Lot’s burning question of Abbot Lot, “What more must I do?” and Abbot Joseph’s illuminated reply, “Why not be completely changed into fire?” Juxtaposed between the two ancient signs appears another sign—a more modern sign—yes, a street sign. It reveals the intersection of two unnamed streets as if to invite the pilgrim to identify the quandaried choice before them in the present wilderness season. Is it the intersection of faith and fear, of hope and doubt, of good and best or perhaps the pained past and the possible future. And after all of this we still find ourselves in the foreground of the wilderness journey.
As we step onto the path we face a long and winding, wandering and weaving road ahead. As our eye follows the path to the horizon line our eyes are lifted to the sky where we discover the mirrored path of the pillar of cloud. The meandering journey through the wilderness of this earth turns out to be the willed path of heaven—even the plan of God. We are reminded of the wise words of the Danish theologian, Soren Kierkegaard’s famous dictum, the wisdom of the wilderness: “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”
There’s even more to notice in the transforming color from the land to the sky and the movements from darkness to light and from arid desert to green pasture. Perhaps the most curious feature of Ex Deus is the triangular trinity of telephone poles connected together by a wire. For my money, this typifies and incarnates the ancient tabernacle of the unseen Triune God with which the book of Exodus ends. That no wire proceeds to or from the triangle, points to the uncreated, self-contained transcendence of the Godhead. The wires strung between them signal the mysterious divine interpersonal communion of prayer. That the poles are grounded on the path and not somehow suspended in the sky exemplifies the invitation to pilgrims to come within and join the conversation. Finally, and most serendipitously, the three telephone poles turn out to be the crosses of Calvary, foreshadowing the long and winding road to “on earth as it is in heaven,” as if to complete the passover through final perdition and pave the path to ultimate redemption.
