Like all great fantasists, he has taught me about life, life in eternity rather than chronology, life in that time in which we are real.

We live by revelations, as Christians, as artists, which means we must be careful never to get set into rigid molds. The minute we begin to think we know all the answers, we forget all the questions and we become like the pharisee who listed all his considerable virtues, and thanked God that he was not like other men.

We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are.

The journey homewards. Coming home. That's what it's all about. The journey to the coming of the Kingdom. That's probably the chief difference between the Christian and the secular artist--the purpose of the work, be it story or music or painting, is to further the coming of the kingdom, to make us aware of our status as children of God, and to turn our feet toward home.

I rebel against death, yet I know that it is how I respond to death's inevitability that is going to make me less or more fully alive.

But grief still has to be worked through. It is like walking through water. Sometimes there are little waves lapping about my feet. Sometimes there is an enormous breaker that knocks me down. Sometimes there is a sudden and fierce squall. But I know that many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.

When we can play with the unself-conscious concentration of a child, this is: art: prayer: love.