Short Stories

The Legend Of The Painter Of Life

by Brandon Braddy
07/19/24
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    Once, long ago, in a little village, there lived a man who had a very special gift. Various rumors had been spread concerning his unique ability. Some said that the man was blessed by God with a gift to paint things into existence. Others claimed that his gift to make his paintings appear into reality was nothing more than some sort of magic. Still, there were many more sayings among that small village town about what his gift really was. Was it a blessing? A gift from God? Was this man's gift magic? Or was he just simply born with this ability? So many rumors still float around to this day concerning this story and legend, the legend of the painter of life, as this man was so named. One thing is certain about this story, whether it be a true one, or false, This man and artist could literally paint a real-life masterpiece, anything and everything painted by his hand would come to life. But there was only one catch. Every time he painted something and it came to life, the painter had to immediately serve mankind with his artwork, meaning that he had to somehow give away whatever he had painted into existence. If he painted a picture of an apple, the bright red fruit came to life, it looked like an apple, even tasted like one, but the man would have to give it away and not keep it for himself, he could not taste of his own real artwork. If he painted a picture of a human being, likewise, the person would appear, but he could not by any means, communicate with his real-life work of art. To partake of his own creation, in any way, would mean that he would loose his gift, the ability to make his paintings come to life. The painter’s life was not always easy. Throughout the years, he would suffer, as all people do from time to time. This man, this painter of life, was no different. One day, the man discovered that he had contracted an illness of some sort, he knew not what it was, but he knew that he was dying, and had not long to live. Still the man painted, and painted probably more earnestly than ever before, giving more and more of his paintings away out of charity and a heart of kindness. But still, the painter had only one question which flooded the depths of his mind and heart both endless days and endless nights. Sleep fled away from him, instead he used all of the time he had left, to paint. Maybe, just maybe, this was his own way of making the time to seemingly go bye faster, so that his time to die would seemingly arrive much more soon. Perhaps the painter was anxious for death, but instead of waiting for it to come so slowly, he wanted it to come speedily. No, he did not wish to die, but that did not matter, for his time would come whether he wanted it to or not, he just wished that if he was going to die anyway, he would not have to wait so long for death to come for him. Then one day, a thought occurred to the man, a thought that if acted upon, might just answer the one question which filled his mind, and kept him wide awake, with no sleep, no rest whatsoever for his weary soul, as he dwelt upon it, both day and night. I will loose my gift if I do this, the man thought to himself, But it might just be worth it in the end, he continued in thought. After all, I will die anyway, and after I do, my gift will die also. And so, the painter did what he did best. He began to paint. And as the hours passed, the painting was at last finished and appeared right before his very eyes. The painting was that of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. The man was baffled by the masterpiece, he was a praying man, a Christian as well, he could have, just as easily, prayed to Jesus, cried out to Him in tears and great travail, and he would have been heard, even spoken to. But the Lord does not speak to his children in an audible voice, and the painter knew this. He had a question, one that filled and overwhelmed his heart, so much that he yearned for a verbal response, a reason for all of his grief and pain. Jesus then greeted Him, Hello my child, It is I, Be not afraid. Oh Lord! Your presence is overwhelming! I dare not look upon your face, the man replied. I am not even worthy. But I beg of you, Please answer me this one question, and I will bother you no longer! I am risking my ability to paint things into existence after painting you here and talking to you face to face, so I beg of you, my heavenly Father, for just one moment of your time, and for only one answer to my question. Ask away, My child, and take all of the time you need, I am always here for you, said Jesus. And so the man asked his question, seven words spoken, Why, Lord, is this illness befallen me? Jesus replied, My son, Do you know how much I love you? I would never do anything to harm or hurt you. But all things work together for your good, because you are my child. I recall a man, he is recorded in the Old Testament pages of your bible, a man named Gideon. He too asked a much similar question. He said, if the LORD be with us, why then is all this befallen us? You see, my child, though I am always with you, this does not mean that life will never be hard, but it will grow uneasy, nevertheless, I will never stop working behind the scenes of the lives of humanity, whom I have loved and sacrificed myself for, at the cross of Calvary, thousands of years ago. Even I endured my share of hard times for you, you are facing an illness, this I realize, but you have not strived against sin, you have not faced the heaviest cross of suffering ever to be carried. You have not been mocked and spat upon, whipped and beaten, having the flesh to pull apart from your bare back, nor have you had nails hammered into you hands and feet, feeling as if your own body is about to explode as it is stretched out upon a wooden cross of lumber. I say this, my child, not to burden you the more, nor to upset or grieve you. But I say it to let you know that I have suffered more than anyone possibly could, that you might realize what is the measureless measurement of my love, a love which knows no bounds, a love unlike any other that reaches to you, even in your suffering and pain. For where you are, in the good times and the bad, wherever you are, I too have been there. I have been there, I know the joy you have faced, because I too have faced the joyous times of life, as I once walked down the dusty roads of this earth, But I am also there in your times of suffering, and am well acquainted with those times, for I have suffered, I have tasted of that bitter cup. All I can say, my son, is, just as I did, I would have you to do. Carry your cross of suffering, endure it and finish carrying it to the place where God has called you to. For some, God has called them to endure the suffering until he brings them through it, and still, for others, such as you and I, we were called, destined by God, to carry and endure the suffering, even unto death. But in the end, the glory of God will be revealed, and you shall live with me in in Heaven above. I will remember you as you arrive at home, and will welcome you in with open arms. I love you my child. Just always remember what I have told you, and until your time comes and you enter into those heavenly courts of my glory, press on, endure, fight the good fight of faith in my strength and power, and point people in my direction along the way. You shall be rewarded for doing so. And with every opportunity given, share your story of suffering with others. But share not only the bad and negative, but share the goodness as well. Tell that God's grace is sufficient through your suffering and pain, as it always has been, and will be. I love you so much, child. By this time, as Jesus had concluded His answer to the painter, the man's face had swelled with great tears, but somehow, they were tears of joy, and not of sadness. Jesus had filled his heart with joy, and a peace that passes all understanding, even in the midst of suffering. The Son of God then, with tender and gentle hands, wiped the man’s tears away from his eyes, and as He went His way, spoke these words which He had once spoken before to His followers, the disciples, many thousands of years ago. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. And with those final words, Jesus vanished, and the painter, from that moment on lived out His last days on earth, to the fullest. He ceased not to share His story of God’s goodness and grace through times of struggles and suffering. The man endured and carried His cross of suffering, with the help of God, for all to see. Only with God’s help was he enabled and empowered to accept it, embrace it, and share it to the glory of a loving and mighty God. The painter of life, so named, had trusted the rest of his days on earth, no matter how short or how hard they were to be, to Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Such a joy and peace the Lord, Jesus, had given to this man, and still, it was sort of a mystery to the many he came in contact with. But Jesus was always with him,he who had been previously known as the painter of life, and God’s presence was always a sweet assurance to the painter, for Jesus being with Him, was all that he really needed to make it through his remaining days. The grace of Jesus was multiplied towards him, with an added supply of strength made complete through his weakness. Frail-looking on the outside of his body, he had not much strength to press forward through his latter days. But he never missed a chance to share the joy, peace, and strength he had in and through Jesus Christ. And as the illness covered his body, making him weaker and weaker as his end drew nigh, he knew the power, peace, joy, and presence of God, all to well, which made him to be more than a conqueror through the One who loved Him and gave Himself for Him. And this truth, this reality, that he was more than a conqueror through Jesus, made Him the more stronger. Who or what shall ever separate me from the love of Christ!? The man thought to himself with a grin upon his face, as finally, his last breath passed away from him, and he entered the gates of that heavenly country and kingdom, known as Heaven, that city of the redeemed in Christ. Of a certainty, this man who had given up his gift by painting and interacting with the Son of God, was at last remembered by Jesus as he was ushered into the real presence of the glory of God in Heaven. The sights He saw, much more beautiful than anything he had ever painted before in his life, but the greatest sight that outweighed all of them was that of the face of Christ. This is the story, the legend of the painter of life, whether it is true, or false, only Heaven knows, but even if it is false, a hoax, a fairy tale or such, one thing remains true. And that is, through whatever we face in this life, be it troubles, circumstances, a late-night devastating phone call that leaves us speechless, an illness of some sort, a struggle which no person can understand having not been through it themselves, This one truth remains unchanging, Jesus is enough to strengthen, sustain, and help us through whatever befalls us. Though bad things will happen even to the best of people, and we are tempted to ask, Lord, Why has all of this befallen me?! Jesus shall always be enough to help us through the hard situations of life. He works behind the scenes of lives, even when we may not realize it, He is there, fitting all of the pieces of our lives together, and attempting to conform us, His children, to His image, and make us more like Him. Jesus is enough. He is always there, even if we do not sense Him, feel Him, or see Him at work, the same One who gives life, He shall sustain it, and strengthen it, Jesus will help us through the dark areas of our lives, and toward the end, a light oh so bright, shall break forth to outshine the dark corners in our lives, and make for us a way out of our suffering and circumstances. It will be a bright and glorious light, which will make for us a way and bring us comfort, as if God himself, the grand Creator and Painter of all things had painted it in the midst of such times in our lives. For Jesus can paint a beautiful canvas from a life overwhelmed with pain and suffering, misery and heartaches, questions and fears. He can make such beauty, a true work of art, out of messy circumstances and times of suffering. Jesus can paint peace and true joy over our hearts, when we feel flooded with many different types of feelings all at once, and as we cry out in anguish and sadness, for answers, Jesus can paint great comfort into our lives, Because He is the God of all comfort, He is the true Painter of life. He gives our lives true meaning and purpose. With Him, life is sweeter, with Him life is much more beautiful. Even if our world falls apart, there is peace and a sense of beauty in knowing Jesus, our Creator, and our Painter of a more meaningful life in us.