Drowning in Shadows, Rising in Grace

The encroaching flood and the barren surroundings emphasize the feeling of isolation expressed in  69:2 : "I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me." The figure’s downward motion through the water encapsulates the sense of drowning in sorrow, as if the ground has disappeared beneath their feet, leaving them grasping for stability. The ripple effect of the water suggests that even the smallest movement creates an impact, a reminder that every action, every cry, reverberates beyond the self.  

The muted colors of the artwork, along with the stormy skies, evoke the weariness and desperation of waiting for God’s response, as expressed in  69:3 : "I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God." This moment of silence and stillness—before divine intervention—creates a tension between despair and hope, where the viewer is left wondering whether the figure will succumb to the depths or rise to the surface.  

As an artist, my intention was to illustrate the profound struggle between the soul’s anguish and the call for salvation. The inverted figure is a metaphor for how life can sometimes turn us upside down, leaving us feeling lost and disoriented. The water represents both a place of entrapment and a possible source of renewal, much like the floodwaters mentioned in  69:14 : "Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink: let me be delivered from them that hate me, and out of the deep waters." The figure’s glowing outline hints at an inner light—a flicker of divine grace that has not yet been extinguished despite the surrounding darkness.  

In creating this artwork, I sought to express the feeling of being engulfed by life’s trials—whether it’s the weight of unjust hatred, as described in  69:4 : "They that hate me without a cause are more than the hairs of mine head," or the shame of personal failings. I wanted to show that even when we feel abandoned, trapped by our own mistakes or the cruelty of others, there is still a call for deliverance—a deep yearning for redemption that lies at the heart of human experience.  

The ripples emanating from the figure create a sense of movement, suggesting that despite the stillness of despair, nothing is ever truly stagnant. This motion represents the prayer of the psalmist, the reaching out for mercy amidst the flood:  69:16 "Hear me, O Lord; for thy lovingkindness is good: turn unto me according to the multitude of thy tender mercies." The water’s surface, both a barrier and a reflection, holds the promise of redemption—of being pulled out from the depths.  

Through this art, I sought to convey not only the pain of sinking but the hope embedded in every cry for help. The scene, although filled with darkness, hints at the presence of light just beyond the clouds. The figure, though seemingly falling, could also be seen as on the verge of being lifted out, carried upwards by divine mercy.  

This artwork encapsulates the emotional depth of  Psalms 69 , a psalm that speaks to the universal human experience of suffering, longing, and the eventual triumph of grace. It reminds us that, even in the moments when we feel furthest from salvation, when the waters of life’s trials are up to our necks, there is still hope. The psalmist’s prayer for deliverance becomes our own, echoing through the ripples of life, until the moment we are pulled back into the light.  

The emotions I brought into this art were drawn from personal reflections on moments of despair and the powerful sense of relief that comes with surrendering to divine will. By focusing on the interplay of water, light, and shadow, I wanted to convey the fragility of human life and the strength we find in faith. The figure’s descent is not the end, but a transition—a movement toward eventual redemption. In this way, the artwork stands as both a lament and a prayer, a visual representation of the soul’s journey through darkness and the promise of rising in grace.