Topic: Faith

  • Good Friday

    “Good Friday” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    My wife took the beautiful photo that inspired this painting.

    There was something about this dandelion that captivated me. 

    He’s reaching the end of the line. He is weary, but remains proud and steadfast. Some called him a weed, disrupting the status quo and infecting the neighborhood. But he knows the truth. He has run his race and is now ready to give it all away, to multiply himself by scattering the seeds to bring forth new life. And in the midst of his sacrifice, with the sun setting on his last day, light shines through as a symbol of the grace within. 

    I call this piece “Good Friday” because it reminds me of that seemingly dark Friday, centuries ago, when all hope seemed lost and evil had won.

    As I write this, the United States is in turmoil over the results of the Presidential election, which went all 2020 on us. Because of course it did. Most of the polls were way wrong, but one thing is certain: it is a nation more divided than either side probably realized. 

    I think it’s fair to say that both sides hoped for a decisive result, and this is everyone’s worst-case scenario. And yet here we are. Regardless of the outcome, half the country will be elated and the other will be plunged into despair. What intrigues me is how thin a line it is between them.

    As I think back to that original Good Friday, I consider how preposterous it would have seemed for anyone who lived through its heartbreak to hear it labeled as “good.” Such a declaration would seem ridiculous, possibly even blasphemous. It sure didn’t seem good at the time. But for those who believed, it actually turned out better than good.

    During times of great uncertainty, I find it helpful to return my attention to things I know are true.

    Let’s start here: I know that the sun rose today. 

    I know that there’s a good chance it will rise again tomorrow.

    I know that I could make a list of 100 things to be grateful for, and it would remain incomplete.

    I know that, contrary to the media narrative, the things we have in common are infinitely greater than that which divides us. 

    I know that the quality of my life has almost nothing to do with who happens to be President.

    I know that I am not called to worry about things I can’t control.

    I know that I am called to focus on the things I can.

    I know that asking the question, “How can I help?” is the best place to start.

    And, if I’m honest, I also know that nothing about the political climate we find ourselves in seems good.

    And yet, I am confident that this moment – and indeed, this year – will prove to be Good, in the end. I grant that may seem ridiculous, perhaps even blasphemous. 

    A big part of what will make it so is how we choose to respond in this moment. We can have our say by seeking to heal divisions that so deeply divide us. Not by trying to win others to our way of thinking, but through what always works: kindness, humility, and love.  

    And by trusting that the same God who called light forth from the darkness is still in control and is working all things…for good.

  • Dawn Is Coming

    “Dawn Is Coming” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    It is always dawn somewhere in the world. That fascinates me. When someone is in the middle of the blackest night, someone half a world away is experiencing the joy of a new day. That’s how life is: seasons of light, seasons of dark.

    I can hardly believe that just a little over a year ago, my family was on Lanikai Beach, watching the sun rise over these two small islands called Na Mokulua, aka the Mokes. I was booked to speak in Honolulu, and this trip seems like an even greater blessing considering how this year has unfolded.

    Some days, Kim got up to watch the sunrise while I stayed back as the kids slept. Some days we traded places. And a few times, we went together as a family. Every morning’s show was unique, but always spectacular; a living watercolor painting, with a cavalcade of new colors seeping into the sky. The kids enjoyed scouring the beach for treasures that the sea brought forth during the night.

    I can’t help but wonder now, after this slog marathon of a year, if I’ll ever go back there with my family. And I don’t necessarily mean that specific beach, but any beach, far away from any fear wrought by a pandemic, or civil unrest, or a divided nation. I wonder if a time will ever come when the future looks bright, and hope isn’t constantly being trampled underfoot. Will this dark night ever lift?

    But then I remember something about that week. We didn’t have to tune in to the television meteorologist to tell us if the sun would rise each day. We didn’t have to wonder, or cross our fingers and hope for the best. It did, just like it always does.

    We were also on the beach at night a few times, when it was so dark the ocean could only be heard, not seen. I didn’t bother worrying that it might stay that way indefinitely. The sun would most certainly rise again, in time.
     
    And yet, when we find ourselves in the middle of a dark and lonely season of life, it can feel like the sun will never shine again. But alas, it is always darkest just before dawn. 

    Maybe you find yourself there, right now.

    There is no reason to lose hope. You just need to hold on. Dawn is coming.

    It always does.

    Another thing to consider. Even though we had gotten up early and made it to the beach, had we been looking west, we would have missed the sunrise entirely. It still would have happened, but we wouldn’t have seen it. 

    Perhaps you’ve been missing some of the magic currently happening in your life because you’re not looking in the right place. In some ways, this has been a dreadful year. But in others, it has exploded with new opportunities and unveiled some hidden blessings.

    And so yes, I am confident that although things seem bleak at the moment, this pandemic too shall pass. Darkness will dissipate, and we will see that we weren’t as divided as we thought we were. And we will be back on the beach to soak in the sun and bask in the blessings that arrived during the night.

    This painting is a reminder that in these dark nights of the soul, sometimes we need patience and sometimes we need a new perspective.

    Either way, dawn is coming.

  • Proof of Life

    “Proof of Life” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Every so often in my life, things are going along swimmingly. I know where I’m going, the path is clear, progress is being made. Everything makes sense, and the future is bright. I like it when life is like that.

    But then, seemingly overnight, everything goes dry. Sand has obscured my path, and I feel like I’m in a barren wasteland, uncertain of which direction to head. I wonder if all the progress and clarity I’d experienced was merely a mirage, because suddenly all signs of life are absent.

    I am stranded in the desert, and all hope is drying up.

    Perhaps you’ve felt this way recently. Maybe you feel this way now.

    Growing up in the Midwest, I didn’t have a lot of experience with deserts. Acres and acres of cornfields, yes; barren expanses of desert, no. To me, deserts were hot, sandy stretches of nothing, save for an occasional cactus and those ominous cattle skulls. Of course, they can be those things. Officially, a desert is a dry, desolate, and barren area of land. It often looks dead, void of life and hope.

    But that’s only if you’re not looking closely enough.

    Deserts are harsh, but not lifeless. I took the picture that inspired this painting whilst exploring the Saguaro National Park a few years ago. It was spectacular and unlike anything I ever experienced growing up in Illinois. The signs of life aren’t as obvious as in a jungle or forest, but they are there, just hidden.

    I can’t help but draw some parallels to my roots in the agricultural heartland. Consider planting: After you cover a seed with soil, it is the moment you see its first green shoot emerge from the earth, the first time growth happens since you buried it? Of course not. It was always in the process of transforming; it just wasn’t immediately visible. When you see rows and rows of tall sweet corn or endless fields of amber waves of grain, it’s easy to forget that in the springtime, those acres of soil seemed barren and lifeless even though they’d already been planted.

    Similarly, it can take several months to visually notice the effect of pregnancy. But cells began multiplying and growing rapidly from the first moment of conception.

    In deserts, life is always on the move. We just aren’t always able to see its progress.

    When we feel stranded in the desert, we need to remind ourselves that all is not lost. It’s hard to be patient and stay hopeful when all evidence seems to suggest otherwise. Please know that when you find yourself in the desert, you are not deserted. God is always working, even when He seems silent or absent. 

    It’s hard to believe a plant so hostile and forbidding could produce a bloom so magnificent.

    Hang in there. Good things are happening, right this moment, and will spring forth in time.

    Keep a sharp eye out for proof of life.

  • All Creation Rejoices

    “All Creation Rejoices” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Have you ever had one of those days when you’re angry at everything and nothing in particular? I had one recently. I went for a walk in an attempt to burn off my anxiety. Two laps around a spacious field of wildflowers near my home released some endorphins, but didn’t make a dent in my foul mood.

    I pulled out my earbuds and fired up a playlist on my phone populated with praise music. My soul began to lift.

    Then I came upon an older man driving a golf cart along the path, with a woman of a similar age as his passenger. She appeared to have some cognitive challenges as she seemed pretty unresponsive. I guessed that they were husband and wife. Perhaps he had been visiting her in the nearby mental health center and decided to take her for a ride on what was a beautiful day.

    They were together, but not really. At least not in the same way my wife and I are when we go for a ride together, talking all the way. In that couple, silently traversing fields of wildflowers under the late-summer sun, not only did I see true love, deep loyalty, and the kind of frail but breathtaking beauty that only arises from brokenness, I also saw a million reasons to be thankful.

    I turned off the path and headed back home, returning a happier, more hopeful person than the one who left.

    Anxiety is the dominant emotion of our time. It’s a constant companion as we slog through our days, scan the headlines, and scroll through our social media feeds.

    Fortunately, there is a cure and it doesn’t cost a dime.

    The antidote to anxiety is gratitude.

    If you are feeling anxious, make a list of ten things you are grateful for. It’s impossible to do this and not feel better. I double dog dare you to make a list of 100 and tell me your mood is not completely transformed.

    Anxiety is anticipating the bad in what may never happen. 

    Gratitude is acknowledging the good in what already has.

    Why does gratitude make us feel better? This painting explores this phenomenon while addressing another. The photo I used as reference was taken during my family’s whale watching tour while in Mexico. I’m still amazed that we had the opportunity to see a humpback whale breach. I’m also amazed that mankind still doesn’t know exactly why whales exhibit this behavior. Scientists have theories about why they breach: to communicate, attract other whales, or warn off other males. But no one knows exactly why – yet.

    Well, how about this as a theory: what if they’re literally jumping for joy?

    Maybe all of creation has its own unique way of practicing gratitude and praising God. Maybe that’s why whales breach, fireflies glow, and swallows whoosh and whirl playfully in the air.

    Maybe we were made for it.

    And maybe that’s why we feel out of balance when we aren’t doing it and feel better when we do. 

    It is just a theory, but a bestselling book proclaims, “Let the sea resound, and all that is in it…Let all creation rejoice before the Lord.”

    It appears highly ironic to suggest turning to gratitude in times of anxiety, grief, or pain. After all, we usually think of “jumping for joy” when we feel good over something remarkable that’s happened.

    The truth is, something remarkable is always happening. 

    Praise aligns us with our Creator, giving us the new eyes we need to see it.

    What are you grateful for today?

  • Refuge

    “Refuge” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    The first house I ever lived in was across the street from a fire station.

    Living in a small town meant it was quiet most nights, but you only need to hear those loud sirens wail one time when you’re three years old to experience real terror. And that is why, every single night, my bedtime routine included this statement: “Dad, I’m afraid of the thunder and lightning and the fire trucks.”

    Clearly, loud noise was my weak spot. (Had we lived next to a college football stadium, I suspect marching bands and touchdown celebrations may have made this list.)

    And every single night, my father would simply reply, “That’s ok, Jason. They’re all in bed now.”

    That’s all I needed to hear. It was the perfect recipe for a good night’s sleep.
    For a child, the world is noisy and overwhelming. It feels too big for us. Fortunately, our parents have our backs. They reassure us and help us feel safe. It is comforting to let them take care of the scary stuff. After all, they’ve been around the block. They are big and strong and know everything.

    As we get older, our courage grows. We bravely venture out on our own, exploring the world and trying new things. We gain confidence and slowly become more self-sufficient. But when life gets too scary, or we scrape our knee, we scurry back to them, to a place we know is safe.

    Eventually, you reach the point where your parents are no longer around. Or maybe you catch up with them and are surprised to find they really don’t know everything. What then?

    I don’t know about you, but there are still times when the world feels too big for me. The noise, the pain, the problems…it’s all too much. 

    I’m looking at you, 2020, the flaming dumpster fire only its mother could love. We’ve experienced a pandemic, lockdowns, economic downturns, unrest in our cities, and natural disasters, all in a contentious election year. It’s been overwhelming, constantly trying to make sense of it all and figure out what to do next for my family and business. The moments I feel most overmatched are those when I forget I’m not alone.

    What has saved me this year is my morning routine. Each day, I sit in the pre-dawn light on my rocking chair with a fresh cup of coffee and a pine-scented candle nearby. I read the Bible. I journal. I pray. Sometimes I listen to music or read from a devotional. Sometimes I just sit there, in the quiet, before the kids are up and the world turns on for the day. It is bliss. I never thought I’d ever actually enjoy getting up this early, but now I wouldn’t miss it. It’s like I’m a baby polar bear seeking warm refuge in the shadow of his protective parent.

    Many times, I have confided in my Heavenly Father, “Lord, I am afraid of the virus and the violence and the division.”

    And He responds, over and over again in His Word and in the still small voice in my heart, “It’s ok, Jason. I’ve got this.”

    Our bodies may grow old, but our souls remain young. We are always God’s kids, and we are always yearning for love and safety. Our smallness is a gift because it leads us back to Him, and when we are weak, He is strong.

    My morning quiet times give me just enough to get through the day. I don’t often experience any big revelations. Mostly just reminders.

    When I think, “How am I supposed to navigate all this turmoil?” I am reminded that I don’t have to.

    I am reminded that we were not meant to do this life alone. 

    I am reminded that I can be brave because I have backup.

    Maybe you could use a reminder.

    Maybe you need an invitation.

    If you are navigating 2020 like a boss, by all means, keep on keeping on. But if you feel overwhelmed and out of your league, might I suggest seeking refuge in the shelter of your Heavenly Father, who loves you very much and has got your back.

    When the alarms sound, and the sirens wail, and the world feels too big for you, remember that you have a mighty champion on your side.

  • Pretty Darn Great

    “Pretty Darn Great” by Jason Kotecki. 40 x 60. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    This shark is awesome. You can tell how awesome he is by his gold teeth. Obviously, the male sharks want to be him, and all the ladies want to be with him. The fact that he is a success is a foregone conclusion to everyone.

    The joke is on the shark, though, because these teeth are not long for this world. You see, sharks continually shed their teeth (some shedding approximately 35,000 teeth in a lifetime!) That’s a lot of lost bling. What a shame!

    The tragedy is that gold grill or no, he already was great. He just didn’t believe it.

    I don’t know about you, but I make this mistake all the time.

    I chase after shiny objects that don’t last to prove my worth, even though deep down I don’t always feel so worthy.

    When I was in seventh grade, I would have given anything for a pair of Air Jordans. I didn’t feel cool, but I was certain these shoes would make up for it. I never got them. It’s just as well, I guess, because they wouldn’t have fit me a year later. 

    Back at the turn of the century, Apple came out with the iBook. The lime green one was awesome. I printed out a picture and put it on my vision board, imagining that my possession of it would make me hip and trendy. Never got it. Of course, if I still had it today, it would be little more than a decorative doorstep. 

    I have dreams of owning a Porsche 911 convertible someday. I think they are beautiful cars, and I love driving convertibles (my dad used to have one). But can I be honest? Sometimes I wonder if the real reason I want it is to have something to show everyone how great and successful I am.

    Now, my faith teaches me that I am wonderfully made in the image of my creator. Frankly, it’s a little hard to believe, most days. After all, I wear bifocals now. My hair is thinning. I eat lots of gluten. 

    Interestingly, my perspective changes when I think about my own kids. Are they perfect? Hells no. (They take after their old man after all). But they are great. It’s not hard at all for me to see their amazing qualities. And the kind of shoes they’re wearing has nothing to do with it. 

    Why is it so easy to see the positive traits of others and so hard to see them in ourselves?

    There are people out there who are a little too big for their britches. But even in those cases, once you collect a certain amount of wisdom, you realize that all the bombast and overconfidence are merely masking their own unworthiness.

    Indeed, most of us are overwhelmed by our flaws and sell ourselves short. We believe the TV and magazine ads that tell us we need to fix this, tuck that, and acquire the new gizmo to feel complete. I don’t know if you can relate, but I often feel suffocated by thoughts that I’m not enough. Not smart enough. Not talented enough. Not brave enough. Each one is like a weed, crowding out the truth. 

    The good thing about this feeling of “not enough” is that it helps us make room for God. His power is made perfect in our weakness. He picks up the slack and nullifies our deficiencies. We are truly in danger when we think we can do this thing called life alone. 

    You and I, we are already great. And not in some lame, everybody-gets-a-participation-trophy way.

    First, some perspective. Do you know the odds of you even being here? Dr. Ali Binazir crunched the numbers, and when you factor in the probability of your dad meeting your mom…

    …and that they stayed together long enough to have kids…

    …and the fact that one of the 100,000 eggs your mom produces in her lifetime…

    …met the one of the 4 trillion sperm your dad made during the years you could have been born…

    …there is a 1 in 400,000,000,000,000,000 (1 in 400 quadrillion chance) of you being alive.

    The chance of you being attacked and killed by a shark is about 1 in 4,000,000.

    Statistically speaking, you are a miracle. Having beaten odds like that suggests there is a reason you are here. And indeed, there is. You have something to offer that the world needs.

    You see, the real reason for your greatness is that you were purposefully and wonderfully made by a loving God. Within you – amidst any so-called flaws you dwell on – is a spark of something divine. That, my friend, makes you priceless.

    “When I was a child my parents loved me not because I was good but because I was Madeleine, their child. I loved them, and I wanted to please them, but their love of me did not have to be earned. Neither does the love of God. We are loved because we are his children, because we are.”

    – Madeleine L’Engle

    You don’t have to keep trying to prove yourself. You can just be. 

    You may not be perfect, but you are already great.

    Gold teeth or no.

  • Hope in the Darkness

    “Hope In The Darkness” by Jason Kotecki. 20 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    It was a dark and stormy night…

    …that lasted for months. 😳

    That’s the season we found ourselves in, when a pandemic descended and darkness filled the entire world, and months felt like centuries.

    As I think about darkness, I can’t help but think of a strange quality we humans have. Whether it’s a handful of birthday candles in a darkened room, the glowing embers from a campfire in the woods, or the flickering stars in a night sky, we can’t help but be drawn to the light.

    Throughout this pandemic, a particular phrase resurfaced again and again during my morning quiet times: fix my eyes.

    I encountered it so often, in songs, books, and videos, that I was curious to look it up and see if I might glean some deeper understanding. According to one dictionary definition, this version of “fix” means to direct one’s eyes, mind, or attention steadily or unwaveringly towards something.

    I immediately thought of a story in the Bible in which Peter, one of Jesus’ most lovable and bone-headed followers, gets to walk on water. The thing is, when he’s focused on Jesus, all is well and he is able to do the impossible. But when he shifts his attention to the raging waves, he’s swallowed by fear and begins to sink.

    The only difference is where Peter has chosen to fix his eyes.

    Back to this peculiarity that human beings are born with an innate attraction to light. Spend any time at sunset on any beach in the world, and you will find every single person staring at the sun. No one is facing the opposite direction.

    It’s not that we don’t notice the darkness. There were times during the pandemic when I was sucked in by it. It’s a scary place to dwell. During those times, my anxiety levels increase. Fear grows.

    But then I notice it.

    My attention is pulled away by something else…a tiny firefly, glowing amidst the expansive backdrop of black. Before long, I see another, and then another.

    These fireflies are the helpers. The people who have decided to help where they can. It’s the same light, but expressed by individuals in different ways.

    The high school principal who visited over 600 graduating seniors. 

    The woman delivering donuts to her staff who are working from home. 

    The DJ leading dance parties in the street. 

    It may be just as dark at one in the morning as it is at three, but only one of them is two hours closer to dawn. For most of us, it’s still night. But sunrise is closer than it was a month ago.

    The fireflies are hope in the darkness that we will see the light.

    Until morning comes –  which it will – may we continue to fix our eyes on the humble lights pulsing with hope all around us. 

    And may we flash our own light for others. 

    Process Video

  • Own This Moment

    “Own This Moment” by Jason Kotecki. 12 x 12. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    The great philosopher Marshall Mathers, also known as Eminem, once said,

    Look…if you had one shot
    Or one opportunity
    To seize everything you ever wanted
    In one moment
    Would you capture it
    Or just let it slip?

    You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
    You own it, you better never let it go
    You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
    This opportunity comes once in a lifetime

    – “Lose Yourself” by Eminem


    It may seem weird to think of this moment in which we find ourselves as the opportunity of a lifetime. After all, none of us asked for it, and all of us wish we could get back to some semblance of normal sooner rather than later.

    Yet here we are, amidst the moment we’ve been waiting for, which has arrived dressed in unremarkable clothing.

    This is a one-of-a-kind opportunity to pivot our organizations to serve people in new and better ways. To improve ourselves by taking a class or learning a valuable skill. To lay the groundwork for a brand new business that will prevent us from having to go back to the old job that wasn’t lighting us up. To strengthen the relationships we have neglected. 

    Perhaps more than anything, this is an occasion to take a long, hard look at our lives and determine if the direction we were heading is really the direction we want to be going. 

    Don’t be fooled by the dire straits trumpeted by the media all day long. Things are not always what they appear to be. Unprecedented times are rich with unprecedented opportunities.

    If you’ve ever felt like a lowly fish, always struggling upstream, never making much progress, this is your chance to be the bear.

    This crisis is an audition for the next generation of leaders.

    You may already be in a leadership position.

    How is your audition going?

    You might believe you don’t have it in you to be a leader. If so, think again. Being elected to a public office or running a big company is not a prerequisite. You might be called to be the leader in your family right now, bringing a sense of calm or comfort, hope or joy. Perhaps you are called to be a leader in your neighborhood or apartment complex, or of the pared-down staff at work.

    We all experience fear, but cowering to it? That’s a choice. Owning the moment with courage and confidence is also a choice. Leaders are people who make hard choices and do the right thing.

    This is not about being somehow superhuman. It’s not about never feeling afraid, or exhausted, or overwhelmed. Feeling any of those feels right now doesn’t disqualify you from leadership. When I experience those emotions, I remember I am human and try to be kind to myself. My shortcomings are not proof that I suck; they are signs that I need to go back to my source of strength. For me, that comes from my morning time spent with a cup of coffee, my Bible, and my Heavenly Father. When my spiritual battery runs low, I know I need time away to recharge, in quiet, with Him. There, He reminds me of his great promises, and that I am not called to do His job, merely mine. Each new day, I am reminded, yet again, that dependency on Him is not a weakness; it is the goal.

    This painting is a call to own THIS moment. Not the next hundred. Leave tomorrow for tomorrow and don’t worry incessantly about the future.

    This crisis, this opportunity – this life – is astoundingly temporary.

    You are only guaranteed this moment.

    Will you own it…or just let it slip?

  • Here Goes Something

    “Here Goes Something” by Jason Kotecki. 24 x 30. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    “Here goes nothing.”

    It’s a phrase we often use when we’re not sure how something will turn out. In fact, since it tends to come from a sense of desperation, we use it to admit that there’s a pretty good chance of it not working. It’s our little way of softening the psychological blow of failing.

    It makes me think of the pass play in football referred to as a “Hail Mary.” The team with the ball is losing, and time has nearly expired. They need a touchdown but they’re so far from the goal line that their only hope is to launch a long pass into a sea of waiting defenders. It’s a pass with a very low chance of success, but at that point, you’re out of options. 

    Here. Goes. Nothing. 

    However.

    This isn’t a football game.

    Trying things that might not work is not nothing.

    It takes tremendous courage, vulnerability, and faith. Dare I say it’s the most important thing we can ever do?

    Doing things that we are sure will work is safe and comfortable. Chasing guarantees is one way to go about our days, but if this is all we ever do, we will have wasted our lives. This is not why we were born.

    When you try something that might not work, it’s true: it might not. But in the end, many other good things will have come of it. At the very least, you will have learned something, and your comfort zone will have inched a little larger.

    And that’s definitely not nothing.

    We recently hosted our third Wondernite. Before our first one, I had no idea if it would work. I didn’t know if anyone would come. I didn’t know if I would even sell one painting. There was a distinct possibility that my brother Doug would go through all twenty items up for auction and not receive one bid and I’d have the exciting opportunity to descend into a catastrophically humiliating shame spiral while sitting in the back of the room. Thankfully for all concerned parties, it turned out well enough that we are currently planning our fourth.

    By the same token, we’ve also invested thousands of dollars into trade shows that did not deliver a good return on investment. They drove us deeper into debt. They bordered on soul-crushing. But the lessons we learned in the process, about marketing, positioning, pricing, and branding, were invaluable, and part of the reason Wondernite turned out to be a success.

    Tinker. Play. Experiment. Try things that might not work. And when you cast off into the unknown, you can be confident in saying to yourself, “Here goes something!!!”

  • Where The Party’s At

    “Where The Party’s At” by Jason Kotecki. 16 x 20. Oil on canvas.
    Original is SOLD 🔴 Shop this art!

    Piñatas are great fun, but only if they actually contain candy. We may be drawn in by the bright colors that promise a good time, but it’s quite a disappointment if, after a few whacks, it’s revealed that there’s actually nothing inside. Whomp whomp.

    The thing that makes a piñata so irresistible is what’s inside.

    The idea behind this painting is that if you’ve got a piñata, you’ve got a party, even if you’re in the middle of a barren wasteland. It was inspired by a song by the Newsboys, called “Wherever We Go.”

    Here are some of the lyrics:

    Wherever we go, the dumb get wise
    And the crime rates drop and the markets rise
    It’s a curious thing
    But it’s just our thing

    Bullies make nice, crooks repent
    And the Ozone layer shows improvement
    It’s a curious thing
    And it’s humbling

    Where we’re led, all the living dead
    Wanna leave their zombie mob
    It’s a touching scene when they all come clean
    God help us, we just love our job

    Hands up, holler back now
    We don’t claim any know-how
    We’re giving God all that
    Wherever we go, that’s where the party’s at

    One of the reasons this song has always resonated with me is that it feels like my life. I am a professional permission granter. I encourage people to make ugly cakes, to draw on their children, and break stupid rules. I make colorful paintings featuring objects with smiley faces on them. When people hire me to speak, they gain permission to have all kinds of fun with the theme and branding. People love it when I bring my family with me to gigs.

    It feels like wherever we go, that’s where the party’s at.

    That being said, I have a confession to make: I have never been the life of a party, and our family is not as fun as you think it is.

    Don’t get me wrong. We do have fun together, we do more than our fair share of kitchen dancing, and Adultitis is not welcome in our home. But I often get the sense that people think that living in our house is like being on an episode of Pee Wee’s Playhouse. Well, if you’re old enough to remember that puppet-fueled gem of a show, today’s secret word is: “letdown.”

    Even as we prepare to leave our beloved neighborhood in Madison for new shenanigans in Sheboygan, our neighbors are flooding us with heartfelt well-wishes. It appears we will be missed. And although I’ve never felt I’ve misrepresented what life is like in our family, I got the sense that people were seeing something more.

    One day, I realized people were resonating with more than our outside appearances and outward actions. Like a piñata, what people are really attracted to is what’s inside us. 

    Our joy.

    In my twenty years of writing and speaking, I haven’t talked that much about my faith, preferring to live by the old St. Francis adage, “Preach the gospel always, and if necessary use words.” But the truth is, our faith is what drives everything.

    It’s where our joy comes from. I know some people don’t have it, but I can’t imagine my life without it. It’s what sustained us in the long periods of darkness when we were in debt and didn’t know if we’d ever make a living with the business. The Holy Spirit is what stirs my imagination and gives me the courage to do things I never could have imagined as a shy, scared little boy.

    In our household, we are celebrating the season of Advent as we prepare our Christmas. My favorite song of this time is O Come Emmanuel. 

    Emmanuel means “God with us.” 

    And that’s the difference between a party and an empty piñata filled with nothing but disappointment. 

    Some consider faith to be a crutch. An opiate for the masses. But I see my faith as a gift. 

    I don’t know how to give it to someone, but I do know this: People are searching for happiness, but what I think they really crave is joy, which is deeper and less fleeting.

    Joy is an inside job.

    If you have it, wherever you go, that’s where the party’s at.