The Kingdom Without the Cross

Lately I’ve been thinking about a painting inspired by one of my songs. Rather than simply illustrating the lyrics, I want the image to function as a visual parable—a painting that slowly reveals itself the longer one stands before it. At first glance, it would appear to be a glorious kingdom. Only after careful observation would the viewer realize something essential is missing. The Left: The Kingdom of Civilization The left side of the painting overflows with achievement. Magnificent cities. Towering architecture. Technology. Commerce. Entertainment. Gold. Power. The golden calf still stands, though perhaps modernized—its worship hidden beneath luxury, progress, and spectacle rather than primitive religion. Nearby sits a woman—beautiful beyond description. She doesn’t threaten. She simply beckons. Like temptation itself, she offers the traveler a shortcut. A kingdom without sacrifice. A future without repentance. The temptation is almost irresistible because nothing appears obviously evil. Everything is beautiful. Everything glitters. Everything promises fulfillment. Yet something feels strangely hollow. - She’s Dangerous Fool’s Gold Because the painting is inspired by Gustav Klimt, nearly everything shimmers with gold. But this isn’t the gold of heaven. It is fool’s gold. Counterfeit glory. The viewer slowly realizes that the brilliance itself has become part of the deception. This recalls the temptation of Christ: “All these kingdoms I will give you...” A kingdom can possess wealth... without love. Power... without mercy. Knowledge... without wisdom. Progress... without communion. The False King At the center stands a magnificent king. He is beautiful. Regal. Radiant. His presence dominates the entire composition. At first glance he appears almost Christ-like. Almost. Then subtle imperfections begin to emerge. His crown has six towering points. Where the seventh should rise... there is only an empty socket waiting for a jewel that never came. His halo nearly forms a perfect circle. One segment is absent. His throne is immense. His robe is covered in dazzling mosaics. Everything whispers perfection. Yet nothing reaches completion. Like six forever reaching toward seven. He bears no wounds. His hands are extended in blessing... yet they carry no scars. That absence becomes the loudest symbol in the painting. He wears a crown. He never carried a cross. The Narrow Way A narrow golden path winds through the center. It resembles both a road and a river. It recalls Christ’s narrow way. It also recalls the endless stream that appears throughout my songs. The traveler walks alone. He has not yet chosen. His gaze remains level while everyone else has fixed theirs. The crowds on the left stare upward toward power. The witnesses on the right quietly watch him. He alone remains free. The Right: The Communion of Saints The right side is intentionally less spectacular. Fewer monuments. Less gold. More life. Families. Children. Old friends. Teachers. Pilgrims. Ordinary believers. People who have quietly shaped one another through love. No one competes for attention. No one shouts. They simply witness. Their presence echoes Hebrews: “Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses...” This side of the painting isn’t merely heaven. It is communion. Civilization Without People One realization surprised me as I developed this idea. The left side contains civilization. The right side contains people. The left has skyscrapers. The right has homes. The left has communication networks. The right has conversations. The left has entertainment. The right has joy. The left has information. The right has wisdom. The left has power. The right has love. Technology itself is never the villain. The deeper question is: What kind of kingdom is this technology serving? The Missing Seventh The symbolism of the number six fascinates me. Everything in the false kingdom is almost complete. Almost perfect. Almost divine. Yet forever incomplete. Six reaching endlessly toward seven. The false king represents humanity’s attempt to build ultimate civilization apart from God. He offers transcendence without sacrifice. Glory without holiness. Resurrection without death. A kingdom without the Cross. The Final Revelation Perhaps the greatest twist is this: The painting is not ultimately about the king. Nor even about the traveler. It is about the viewer. Standing before the canvas, one slowly realizes that they have unconsciously taken the traveler’s place. The painting no longer asks, “Which kingdom is real?” Instead it quietly asks, “Which king are you walking toward?” I don’t want this painting to preach. I want it to linger. To be beautiful enough that people are drawn near... and unsettling enough that they cannot leave unchanged. 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