"Consider the art in this exhibit as a meditative way to challenge yourself during Advent to not only worship Christ within the walls of the church, or the walls of your heart, but also to seek him and serve him in all persons." (Frank & Victoria Logue, Curators)

Seen above and on front-page mastheads: "Sacred Heart" by Nancy Mills.

Click HERE to visit ECVA's newest exhibition "Seeking & Serving."

A list of artists participating in this exhibition can be seen HERE.

I have always been moved by the souls of women; their moods, their emotions, their wondrous relationship with Life. First, I am a lover of souls: then I am a painter.

My paintings are not about her human figure; they are about the inner most places of her soul. They are about her humanness – the wonder, the agony, the passion, the fear, the joy, the acceptance, the triumph, the tenacity, and the complete uncertainty of the entire journey.

I want to give voice where voice cannot be spoken or heard. I want to make connection – connections that unabashedly and without fear, open our souls to another.

They are stories we all tell, if we dare to.

Images and words above by Cheri Brackett. Seen on the front-page mastheads and top: "Falconer;" second image: "Naomi;" third image: "Defining Moment;" and fourth image: "Portrait In Green."

You can see more of Cheri’s work HERE and HERE.

A note on the graphic translation- unlike Jonah, Esther, Amos, or the parables, "James" is not a story. It is a letter written very broadly to the church.

It gives concrete images and understandings on wisdom and how to live faithfully. In creating this visual translation, I have taken the address literally, as a message for the church spread throughout the world, and throughout time.

The chapters move from the first century to the 21st, following the spread of the church as it carries out its mission.

Words and images above (and on front-page mastheads) by Earnest Graham: Pages 48, 49, and 50 from "The Letter of James" A Graphic Novel Translation by Earnest Graham.

Soon and very soon, we will contemplate the Gospel reading for Christmas Eve. In this text from Luke, we will read of the journey of Mary and Joseph and of the birth of Jesus in a manger; we will read of shepherds and angels and glory. At the last, we will catch sight of the contemplative Mary. It is the briefest glimpse: “But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Tucked into the very end of the text, it nearly eludes our notice. Yet more and more I find myself thinking that the heart of this story lies here, in the way that Mary gathers up all the pieces of the story and holds them within herself.

But not yet, not quite; a day or two still before we turn to this tale of glory that gives way to a space of stillness. For now, let us open a different window onto Mary.

In the book of Revelation, in chapter 12, John tells of a vision of a celestial woman who labors to give birth to a child as a dragon waits, intent upon destroying the child. Across the centuries, many interpreters have viewed this as an image of Mary. While the text itself does not confirm this, the story of the sun-garbed woman struggling to give birth certainly resonates with the tale of the mother of Christ. And so, on this Advent night, I offer this image that emerged as I contemplated this passage many years ago...

Images (above and on front-page mastheads): Clothed With The Sun by Jan Richardson.

Words by Jan Richardson.

Come down, O love divine
Seek Thou this soul of mine
And visit it with Thine own ardour glowing
O Comforter, draw near
Within my heart appear
And kindle it,
Thy holy flame bestowing

O let it freely burn
Till earthly passions turn
To dust and ashes, in its heat consuming
And let Thy glorious light
Shine ever on my sight
And clothe me round,
the while my path illuming

Let holy charity
Mine outward vesture be
And lowliness become mine inner clothing
True lowliness of heart
Which takes the humbler part
And o'er its own shortcomings
weeps with loathing

And so the yearning strong
With which the soul will long
Shall far outpass the power of human telling
For none can guess its grace
Till he become the place
Wherein the Holy Spirit makes His dwelling

Seen above: "Nativity" by Christina Saj
Words: Bianco da Siena