Prodigal

This is a transcript of an ApostleCarry podcast of the same title, found here, edited for form.

There’s a video of Andy Warhol from, I believe, 1962, some press interview, in front of one of his paintings, and the interviewer, clearly not an art world insider, asks one simple question after another, and Andy answers each question with either “yes” or “no.” There is no substance from either party. It’s quite humorous (you can hear a clip of the actual interview on the podcast), and I believe Andy was certainly intentional about his public persona, striving to create a seamless integration between the man and the art. He’d later say that you don’t need to look past the surface, what you see is what you get. Empty, vapid, almost lifeless. This type of soulless, surface level shallowness in art was a reactionary kickback against the dominance of the more emotionally driven and heavy labored paintings of the abstract expressionists, which held a grip on the public art world the decades prior to the pop art takeover. At this point, artists saw an opportunity to exploit the epidemic consumerism of the west and took full advantage.

It’s befitting to begin this blog with a mention of Andy Warhol, and while this is a blog created by and for Apostolic creatives, many of whom likely wouldn’t dare nod to such a symbol of worldliness and sin, this clip, and its speaker, represent, personally and more broadly, the lifelong effort to kill your idols. I’ve always been an artist, but I haven’t always been Apostolic. That part is new, that’s the new man emerging out of the darkness I once was. You see, I glorified artists such as Warhol, I glorified their work – what’s more, I glorified myself more than anyone, and my own work more than any thing. To say we don’t live in a polytheistic society is to completely misunderstand our time. Our idols exist less in temples and in high places, and more in our everyday experience and in every conscious, waking moment. As an artist, one has the opportunity to manifest that waking idolatry in physical form. That was my perpetual effort for over fifteen years of my life, until I went down in the water in Jesus name and received the baptism of the Holy Ghost through initial evidence of speaking in other tongues.

Now my artistic gaze has turned from the outward, turned from the inward, and has been directed upward.

“In large measure becoming an artist consists of learning to accept yourself, which makes your work personal, and in following your own voice, which makes your work distinctive.”

- David Bayles, Art & Fear

I used to read passages such as that and think “yes, that’s it! That’s what it’s all about!” I was always considered a talented artist, I was always the best artist in class from a very young age, my teachers considered me an artistic prodigy and often approached my mother and encouraged her to help me achieve the excellence for which they believed my artistic skill was destined.

I didn’t really take it seriously until I was about nineteen years of age, I was in the middle of my first year at a local community college and randomly took a drawing class in which I rediscovered my abilities. It became an instant obsession, a sudden burst of full-fledged idolatry. At this time in my life I was attempting to draw near to God, devoting more significant time to His Word, some time in prayer, attending church. I’ve always had a relationship with the Lord Jesus, but I wasn’t raised in an Apostolic church. Much of my childhood was spent in Philadelphia, where my mother, my sister and I attended New Life Presbyterian church. That’s what I grew up in, and eventually we migrated to California where we ran through a string of Presbyterian and non-denominational churches, and eventually landed on one called Calvary Chapel. So there I was, age nineteen, attending a non-denominational church, reading the Bible and worshipping art. Other artists art, and very quickly my own art. My thoughts constantly revolved around what I was working on, which meant that my life, too, revolved around what I was working on. I studied the practice of art making very closely, but I also studied the lives of artists very closely. Just as I mirrored certain artists methods of paint application, so too I began to mirror their lifestyles, at least those that were most well known. And the well known ones never lived wholesome lives. It’s the dangerous lives that the public eye is attracted to, and therefore those lives are the ones emphasized, glamorized and viewed as definitive of what means to be an artist. I got this sick notion in my mind that, in order to best serve your art, you must live your life on the edge of a serrated knife. This notion began early on in my high school years, when I became glued to punk music, playing in several bands and excessively feeding the appetite of destruction. Art soon became just another gateway into that same kind of glamorous destruction. What’s more is that, while I’m taking art classes in the morning, I’m diving into philosophy in the evening, and soon instead of reading the books of Moses and the letters of Paul, I’m reading the books of Jean Paul Sartre, and Slavoj Zizek. There was a two-edged sword driven between the Lord and I, and it was to become a long process that I do believe was absolutely necessary.

After lingering at community college for a few years I finally transferred to a reputable art school in San Francisco. I truly wanted to migrate back east to New York, but logistically SF made more sense, and at that point, any city would do. I became immersed in the city, doing my best to live the way I believed an artist should. My work began appearing in art galleries, I began selling my work at higher amounts, and I was thriving academically. Additionally, I was consuming cigarettes and alcohol at such a steady pace that I rarely had a sober evening. Indeed I tried as much as possible to remain at least slightly inebriated throughout each day, and had often succeeded. In my mind, everything was going as it should. What’s crazy is that throughout all of this I considered myself to be a friend of Jesus. I assumed that I had secured salvation already, by grace alone, through faith alone, so I had nothing to lose. Nothing could have been further from the truth, and I certainly made no room in my life for God.

But God did something about that, He wouldn’t accept it, praise the Lord. A very persuasive friend of mine in the city had proclaimed to me that he was a Christian, and insisted that we do Bible studies together. Now, this friend I would consider a very, very liberal Christian, by no means Apostolic, doctrinally beyond left leaning. I remember our Bible studies, in which we would read through and discuss the Word of God, each of us smoking one cigarette after another, sometimes over a lager at a pub. These were dark days, but God had inserted His voice regardless of how I was living.

I shifted my reading from the existentialists and Freudian psychology over toward CS Lewis and other prominent Christian apologists. At this time there was an onslaught of strident atheism within academia and popular culture – Dawkins, Harris and Hitchens were touring the world with their convincing and often entertaining arguments against the faith, all in a concerted reaction against the hard conservatism of the Bush administration in the US. With that rise in atheism, however, there was a reactionary rise in rigorous apologetics, by the likes of John Lennox, Alvin Plantinga and William Lane Craig. While the views of these prominent Christian thinkers may not align with the most important aspects of our faith, namely the oneness of God, baptism in Jesus’ name and baptism in the Holy Ghost with initial evidence of speaking in other tongues, they kept me tethered to the faith in a way that nothing else could at that time in my life. Credit where credit is due, and I still appreciate much of their work and what they have done to speak up for faith in Jesus Christ at a time when so much of the world was heavily influenced by Godless scientism. So at this point in my life, despite my commitment to regular Bible studies and eventually attending church, I was still wallowing in a pit of sin and self destruction.

Then things got worse. In 2008 there was a massive bubble in the housing market that burst, and as a result, worldwide markets crashed hard. There was a sudden famine across the land. I was in a bad situation and forced to move out of the city for a time. But the sin and darkness of my life in that city stuck to me like Velcro. I found myself living the same riotous lifestyle, but without the glamour of the city. I stayed with friends for a time, but soon returned home, defeated, small, in poor health and severe debt. I lived the life of the prodigal son. The only difference was that I was still unrepentant, and still in pursuit of my own glory, fame and riches. Shortly after returning home, I joined a band, which quickly received airtime and caught the attention of a notable figure within mainstream pop music, who signed us to their management company. I saw this as my ticket upward, and began preparing for my new life.

Thankfully, the Lord had other plans. I actually met my wife Sara at a party. Unbeknownst to me, she was a backslidden Pentecostal. Unbeknownst to her, I had believed in Jesus and still had not received the Holy Ghost, blinded to the fact that I was in gross darkness and desperate for repentance. There’s no matchmaker better than God, haha, let me tell you. She and I had developed a friendship just before I moved to the city, and after I returned, our friendship became much more. Most importantly, we began sharing and encouraging one another in our Christian faith. The only problem was the fact that I was about to jet set toward my new life in pop music fame. This was a turning point, and I knew it, and through God’s grace in my life, I actually began devoting myself to prayer. I can vividly recall those days and nights that I spent praying about this dilemma, I can vividly recall the tug of the Holy Ghost on me as I was striving to align with God’s will for my life. Thankfully, the Lord had His way, I left the band and shortly thereafter I was married to the most wonderful, most beautiful woman in the world.

It’s a miracle we didn’t split within the first several months. It was a rocky start, to say the least, as is the case with most marriages, but we had so much sin and baggage that it nearly tore us apart. But praise God we’re still going strong after more than 11 years! I’m amazed at what God did, and is still doing, in our marriage. The mere fact that my wife and I came together is just remarkable, not to mention the fact that He’s blessed us with four wonderful children, despite the fact that we were unable to have them early on! So, a few years into our marriage, my wife’s job requires her to be increasingly present in the Bay Area, where she runs into none other than the late great Ari Prado. She tells him that she’s married, and that we’re looking for a church. He tells her that he and his wife just started a church in the Bay Area. East Bay Bible Fellowship became our church in 2016, and we’ve been there ever since.

Becoming friends with Pastor Prado was ordained by God. One thing I appreciate so much about him was the fact that he understood where I was, and met me there. He didn’t force doctrine upon, he allowed me to arrive at my own conclusions and made the time to discuss those conclusions with me. After he helped me reach the conclusion that I needed to be baptized in Jesus’ name, I went with my wife to the church where Pastor Prado baptized me. That was in 2020, and then it took me about another 9 months or so, and many long discussions with Pastor Prado, to finally submit and be filled with the Holy Spirit. Pastor Prado received his great reward October of 2023, a bit over a year prior to the recording of this. It was a tragic loss not just for my family and our beloved church, but for many across the world. Pastor Prado is still ministering to saints and sinners today, and I am grateful to say that the church he and his wife Sister Jaimee Prado founded in Alameda, CA, is still strong, and we are proud to belong to such a blessed congregation.

I wanted to begin this blog with my testimony as a sort of level set – I desire this to be a growing discourse, and believe it’s necessary to reveal who I am to hopefully establish and gain a richer dialogue.

The intent of this blog is to provide insight and encouragement primarily to my fellow Apostolics, but also anyone engaged in the variety of subjects we discuss here.

As an artist stepping into the Apostolic faith, there are many uncertainties, namely what kind of art is acceptable to God, and what does He prohibit? Can we worship Him through the creation of visual art? History offers many answers to these questions, but ultimately we must go to His word for the final say. I look forward to diving into these questions and much more in the posts that follow. Until then, may the Lord make you wise-hearted, may you go forth, create, and glorify our Lord Jesus Christ.