Bread Machine
Painted in Israel, April, 2026
In short, this artistic statement is about the power of praise and a faith-anchored perspective as effective weapons for achieving victory over our greatest challenges.
This conceptual piece had been ruminating inside of me for maybe ten years. Simply put, from its inception, I wanted to do a piece that gave an obvious nod to a modern David overcoming the Goliath in his life through the implementation of praise. That much I knew a decade ago. But I did not have a setting for the figure until I got to stay in the apartment of a former IDF soldier struggling heavily with PTSD and related Chronic Fatigue. I had no idea or plan when I arrived in his Jerusalem home that I would be painting. But as a result of conversations I was having with him as he continues his long battle with Chronic Fatigue, and with the swirling reality of growing, serious issues with PTSD (especially among IDF warriors) making headlines in Israel as a result of the traumatic wars surrounding the nation, as soon as I got to his home I suddenly knew this was the place to paint the Bread Machine. Somehow being in his space, in his nation, under the impending threat of Iranian missiles chasing us into bomb shelters launched me into doing a piece that I hope cheers him on (and others who have experienced trauma and its impact on their hearts and minds) in his (their) courageous fight for life and sanity.
The name, Bread Machine, refers to the statement made by Caleb (in Numbers chapter 14), who had spied out the Promised Land and had to admit to his doubting audience that yes, there actually were real giants inhabiting the land the children of Israel were supposed to inherit; but with the eyes of faith, Caleb reported that the giants only existed as an opportunity for those exact enemies to be a means of nourishment and of making the Israelites stronger:
"...Only do not rebel against the Lord, nor fear the people of the land, for they are our bread; their protection has departed from them, and the Lord is with us. Do not fear them.”
Years later, Caleb's faith-anchored perspective is echoed in David's passion, as he boldly ran, faith first, to the battle and faced the giants of his day. I feel we must have the same vision, as there are, by sovereign design, inescapable challenges in each of our lives, challenges that appear humanly impossible to overcome.
Some notes about the artistic elements in this painting:
There are admittedly traumatic elements to this painting. I did not know during all the years that I was reaching toward this piece that it would be given in rlation to trauma. But as I felt internally the sudden invitation to paint this, I felt the Holy Spirit lead me along those lines. So here is a bit of philosophy from my own escape from the dominion of the PTSD that once landed me in a hospital.
Embedded in this canvas is the concept that whatever has traumatized you (or me) is a part of you (or me). It does no good for us to ignore it or pretend it is not there or that whatever you've been through did not really happen or should not have impacted you so deeply. The reality is: x happened. However, through decisive commitment to the reshaping of one's perspective by an anchor to the transcendent reality of the Almighty, one is invited to decapitate that trauma, and even to carry it forward as a trophy.
I am moved that David not only cut off Goliath's head, but he took Goliath's sword to do so. I have included both those elements in the painting, as a reminder that the weapons formed against you shall not continue to prosper against you. That's not just a nice idea: it is unshakeable bedrock truth. It needs to be spoken aloud and revisited over and over until it is tattooed on your heart. Your inheritance in the Lord is that you shall outlive the enemy's intentions and his best efforts to destroy your life. Isaiah put it this way:
"'No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me,' says the Lord." (Isaiah 54:17)
Don't forget what the enemy has done, but don't let it completely define you any longer; walk deliberately, triumphantly past it into the seemingly impossible victory that faith makes possible.
I chose to dress my modern giant-killer in Levi's jeans. Instead of the indigo that is so common, I painted them in coyote desert, a color oft connected to desert warfare. You will also note that I painted the Levi's tag its official red color. This is a nod to the importance of recognizing our calling to live a set apart life as a royal priest, that is, one who stands between the common and the holy as an intercessor, one who is called to be a light to the nations, even in the midst of the tremendous personal challenges we might face. Somehow as I painted I felt there was a level of mystery and truth entwined in that idea of priesthood and example: the world is watching to see how we will show them the way to overcome.
The jeans I wore as I modeled for this painting are 513's. As I am writing I felt like perhaps there might be some significance to that number; so I just looked it up and found the following:
The number 513 is primarily significant in spiritual contexts with biblical statement... "God brings forth"... and as a reference to Matthew 5:13, the "you are the salt of the earth" verse. Interesting! Levi 513's seem like the right jeans to have on!
You also can see that I have illustrated my guy as wearing prayer tassels; this is an obvious recognition of the role of prayer– not just the skyward release of vague hopes, but the honest, open, ongoing real experiential interaction with the God who sees and hears and cares and answers the cries of your heart. In the face of trauma, there is the option to either faint or to pray. May we continue to overcome, as we run our race draped in intercession.
I put this figure in a white athletic jersey, embroidered with the name, Tehilla, the literal Hebrew word from the amazing text in Isaiah 61 that states the following:
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, because the Lord has anointed Me to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, to console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise (Tehilla) for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”
That whole chapter reads like a doctor's prescription for those weighed down with PTSD or depression or whatever it is that tries to shut down one's heart. There is truth in Isaiah's words– living truth, like dynamite. It is my hope that my simple painting will fan the flame on the fuse that will set the vulnerable at liberty.
I also painted the number Eight on the back of the jersey. The number Eight signifies new beginnings, the genesis of a new cycle of life, a new week, a new season. Again this is an attempt to cheer you on as you trudge through your valley of the shadow; even as I write this I am reminded of the statement, "When you're going through hell, keep going!"
I chose a train of butterflies for this painting, winding through the legs of my modern David, spreading from his past, touching his present, and flying on into his future. I included them as symbols of transformation. Even today science can't really explain what happens to a caterpillar once it enters a cocoon– it literally melts down and then is miraculously reborn into something transcendent, radiant, beautiful. Maybe you are still in the cocoon of a traumatic experience; but I believe what God has placed in your very DNA will take you past your time of meltdown into your becoming something elevated, into a season of actually soaring, of spreading even more beauty and inspiration.
As I was researching this element, I looked up the several types of butterflies that make Jerusalem their home. Of the many, I "happened" to choose the Ariel Fritillary; only after I chose it did I find out that it was only recently renamed from Jerusalem Fritillary to Ariel Fritillary in honor of dear Ariel Bibas, the four-year-old murdered in Gazan captivity. The name was chosen for its vivid orange wings, which match the hair color of Ariel and his baby brother Kfir, both of whom were abducted and murdered by Hamas. I was moved by this discovery, encouraged to find that somehow the memory of the Bibas family and the trauma they endured has found a lasting connection to something beautiful.
This conceptual piece had been ruminating inside of me for maybe ten years. Simply put, from its inception, I wanted to do a piece that gave an obvious nod to a modern David overcoming the Goliath in his life through the implementation of praise. That much I knew a decade ago. But I did not have a setting for the figure until I got to stay in the apartment of a former IDF soldier struggling heavily with PTSD and related Chronic Fatigue. I had no idea or plan when I arrived in his Jerusalem home that I would be painting. But as a result of conversations I was having with him as he continues his long battle with Chronic Fatigue, and with the swirling reality of growing, serious issues with PTSD (especially among IDF warriors) making headlines in Israel as a result of the traumatic wars surrounding the nation, as soon as I got to his home I suddenly knew this was the place to paint the Bread Machine. Somehow being in his space, in his nation, under the impending threat of Iranian missiles chasing us into bomb shelters launched me into doing a piece that I hope cheers him on (and others who have experienced trauma and its impact on their hearts and minds) in his (their) courageous fight for life and sanity.
The name, Bread Machine, refers to the statement made by Caleb (in Numbers chapter 14), who had spied out the Promised Land and had to admit to his doubting audience that yes, there actually were real giants inhabiting the land the children of Israel were supposed to inherit; but with the eyes of faith, Caleb reported that the giants only existed as an opportunity for those exact enemies to be a means of nourishment and of making the Israelites stronger:
"...Only do not rebel against the Lord, nor fear the people of the land, for they are our bread; their protection has departed from them, and the Lord is with us. Do not fear them.”
Years later, Caleb's faith-anchored perspective is echoed in David's passion, as he boldly ran, faith first, to the battle and faced the giants of his day. I feel we must have the same vision, as there are, by sovereign design, inescapable challenges in each of our lives, challenges that appear humanly impossible to overcome.
Some notes about the artistic elements in this painting:
There are admittedly traumatic elements to this painting. I did not know during all the years that I was reaching toward this piece that it would be given in rlation to trauma. But as I felt internally the sudden invitation to paint this, I felt the Holy Spirit lead me along those lines. So here is a bit of philosophy from my own escape from the dominion of the PTSD that once landed me in a hospital.
Embedded in this canvas is the concept that whatever has traumatized you (or me) is a part of you (or me). It does no good for us to ignore it or pretend it is not there or that whatever you've been through did not really happen or should not have impacted you so deeply. The reality is: x happened. However, through decisive commitment to the reshaping of one's perspective by an anchor to the transcendent reality of the Almighty, one is invited to decapitate that trauma, and even to carry it forward as a trophy.
I am moved that David not only cut off Goliath's head, but he took Goliath's sword to do so. I have included both those elements in the painting, as a reminder that the weapons formed against you shall not continue to prosper against you. That's not just a nice idea: it is unshakeable bedrock truth. It needs to be spoken aloud and revisited over and over until it is tattooed on your heart. Your inheritance in the Lord is that you shall outlive the enemy's intentions and his best efforts to destroy your life. Isaiah put it this way:
"'No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me,' says the Lord." (Isaiah 54:17)
Don't forget what the enemy has done, but don't let it completely define you any longer; walk deliberately, triumphantly past it into the seemingly impossible victory that faith makes possible.
I chose to dress my modern giant-killer in Levi's jeans. Instead of the indigo that is so common, I painted them in coyote desert, a color oft connected to desert warfare. You will also note that I painted the Levi's tag its official red color. This is a nod to the importance of recognizing our calling to live a set apart life as a royal priest, that is, one who stands between the common and the holy as an intercessor, one who is called to be a light to the nations, even in the midst of the tremendous personal challenges we might face. Somehow as I painted I felt there was a level of mystery and truth entwined in that idea of priesthood and example: the world is watching to see how we will show them the way to overcome.
The jeans I wore as I modeled for this painting are 513's. As I am writing I felt like perhaps there might be some significance to that number; so I just looked it up and found the following:
The number 513 is primarily significant in spiritual contexts with biblical statement... "God brings forth"... and as a reference to Matthew 5:13, the "you are the salt of the earth" verse. Interesting! Levi 513's seem like the right jeans to have on!
You also can see that I have illustrated my guy as wearing prayer tassels; this is an obvious recognition of the role of prayer– not just the skyward release of vague hopes, but the honest, open, ongoing real experiential interaction with the God who sees and hears and cares and answers the cries of your heart. In the face of trauma, there is the option to either faint or to pray. May we continue to overcome, as we run our race draped in intercession.
I put this figure in a white athletic jersey, embroidered with the name, Tehilla, the literal Hebrew word from the amazing text in Isaiah 61 that states the following:
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, because the Lord has anointed Me to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, to console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise (Tehilla) for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”
That whole chapter reads like a doctor's prescription for those weighed down with PTSD or depression or whatever it is that tries to shut down one's heart. There is truth in Isaiah's words– living truth, like dynamite. It is my hope that my simple painting will fan the flame on the fuse that will set the vulnerable at liberty.
I also painted the number Eight on the back of the jersey. The number Eight signifies new beginnings, the genesis of a new cycle of life, a new week, a new season. Again this is an attempt to cheer you on as you trudge through your valley of the shadow; even as I write this I am reminded of the statement, "When you're going through hell, keep going!"
I chose a train of butterflies for this painting, winding through the legs of my modern David, spreading from his past, touching his present, and flying on into his future. I included them as symbols of transformation. Even today science can't really explain what happens to a caterpillar once it enters a cocoon– it literally melts down and then is miraculously reborn into something transcendent, radiant, beautiful. Maybe you are still in the cocoon of a traumatic experience; but I believe what God has placed in your very DNA will take you past your time of meltdown into your becoming something elevated, into a season of actually soaring, of spreading even more beauty and inspiration.
As I was researching this element, I looked up the several types of butterflies that make Jerusalem their home. Of the many, I "happened" to choose the Ariel Fritillary; only after I chose it did I find out that it was only recently renamed from Jerusalem Fritillary to Ariel Fritillary in honor of dear Ariel Bibas, the four-year-old murdered in Gazan captivity. The name was chosen for its vivid orange wings, which match the hair color of Ariel and his baby brother Kfir, both of whom were abducted and murdered by Hamas. I was moved by this discovery, encouraged to find that somehow the memory of the Bibas family and the trauma they endured has found a lasting connection to something beautiful.