What counts most is what survives

Timm O'Cobhthaigh, "Japanese Greeting"

Timm’s photographic mind frequently thought in images, scenes composed or conjured according to whatever he was meditating upon. It allowed him to imagine distant vistas, even ones beyond the far shores of his life. To that he added an editorial “eye,” discriminating the spirits, glossing a perception of value. These are essential tools of the creative artist, and Timm, growing deep and deeper into his craft, became quite deft in applying them.

In his journals Timm often tries to make sense of his current situation or evaluate the life he has lived so far by placing it into the context of an image, like the following one which is inspired by his reading. Watch how he expands it into a homily upon what is most valuable in the biggest of big pictures.

* * *

(Journal 9/24/2004)

Last night I was sitting in my living room reading a novel by a Japanese Christian named ((Shusaku)) Endo titled Silence when I had a picture flash across my mind.

The book takes place in 17th century Japan during the government’s attempt to purge Christianity from the island nation. During that time, hundreds of thousands of believers were martyred, many in horrific fashion.

The main character of the book –- a Portuguese priest who had snuck onto the island to encourage the faithful –- is struggling with why God seems so silent while His people suffer.

The picture I had in my mind was of people in heaven, milling around, but many with a deep sense of disappointment, for they realized upon arrival that those who died for or suffered from their faith were much more rewarded than they.

But it wasn’t the reward that brought their despair, but realizing how passing life was – transitory and of much less value compared with eternity. And they spent their entire time as living creatures avoiding the risk of pain.

They realized their building of a safe, comfortable life on earth prevented them from living with any significance. They were too lulled by tee cards & television, luxury cars and investment portfolios to settle for the softer, easier way. They had believed that keeping life safe, avoiding any risk – especially ones that might cost them physically or materially – was their God-commanded duty as good stewards.

It was too late now – life was over, and now, like Paul, the scales had fallen from their eyes & they truly saw. The true big picture was not what they had bought into. They wished they’d spent their lives differently. Life, they realized, was to be poured out, putting everything on the line for the cross of Christ, not playing it safe.

What do we do for the Kingdom is the only thing that survives.

Timm O'Cobhthaigh, "Fisherman at Sunset"