I was given a nail by a friend to make marks in an abstract drawing I was working on. It was a simple act of passing me a discarded nail on a studio workshop table. Yet it proved to be a profound moment of feeling and I acknowledged afresh the power of the sacrifice of Jesus upon the cross. For me. I wanted to capture something of 'that nail' hammered into the hand of Jesus. Yet as I painted, I felt afresh that it wasn't the nail that held him upon the cross. It was his love for me.
I first learnt of this love when I was 17 years old. My sister told me that Jesus had died for me. For me? I found the idea absurd. Why would a man from ancient history choose to die for someone like me. The more I pondered this statement the more I wanted to experience if it could be true. Soon after at a church service for young people I asked the vicar if I could become a Christian. It was at that moment I said thank you to Jesus for dying for me.