Light Through the Lens
Have you ever noticed how your eye is naturally drawn to the brightest part of a photograph? It’s no coincidence that God designed us that way.
There’s a concept in Renaissance art called chiaroscuro, which means “light-dark” in Italian. It was one of the earliest techniques artists used to convey depth—by placing light and shadow in deliberate tension. That contrast didn’t just give shape to figures; it gave them soul. Emotion. Life.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness. Genesis 1:3–4(NIV)
From the beginning, light was called good. But notice—God didn’t eliminate the darkness. He separated it. He gave it boundaries. That wasn’t just a design choice in the physical world; it’s a spiritual reality. Darkness exists—but it is not the end of the story. In fact, we only understand the brilliance of light because we’ve seen the contrast. The same contrast that makes art beautiful is what makes life rich with depth, emotion, and meaning.
Photography, to me, has always been a visual metaphor for that truth. Light reveals. It directs our attention. It gives shape to what is otherwise flat and hidden. It brings order, wonder, and perspective. Light tells the story.
After college, I moved to Washington, D.C., where I built a thriving photography business. I traveled. I worked with influential people. I was surrounded by creativity and energy. From the outside, it looked like I had it all. But inside, I was empty. I was chasing fulfillment everywhere but Jesus—and nothing satisfied. If the bottomless pit has a floor, I had hit it.
There’s a concept in Renaissance art called chiaroscuro, which means “light-dark” in Italian. It was one of the earliest techniques artists used to convey depth—by placing light and shadow in deliberate tension. That contrast didn’t just give shape to figures; it gave them soul. Emotion. Life.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness. Genesis 1:3–4(NIV)
From the beginning, light was called good. But notice—God didn’t eliminate the darkness. He separated it. He gave it boundaries. That wasn’t just a design choice in the physical world; it’s a spiritual reality. Darkness exists—but it is not the end of the story. In fact, we only understand the brilliance of light because we’ve seen the contrast. The same contrast that makes art beautiful is what makes life rich with depth, emotion, and meaning.
Photography, to me, has always been a visual metaphor for that truth. Light reveals. It directs our attention. It gives shape to what is otherwise flat and hidden. It brings order, wonder, and perspective. Light tells the story.
After college, I moved to Washington, D.C., where I built a thriving photography business. I traveled. I worked with influential people. I was surrounded by creativity and energy. From the outside, it looked like I had it all. But inside, I was empty. I was chasing fulfillment everywhere but Jesus—and nothing satisfied. If the bottomless pit has a floor, I had hit it.
And then came an invite from college friends to visit Charleston. Three months later, I drove a U-Haul down to start fresh. I made a simple post in a neighborhood Facebook group: “Photographer new to the area.” That one post led to a job inquiry, which led to a lunch invitation, which led to me reluctantly saying yes to persistent invitations—to church.
Some Sundays I was “too hungover” to go. But even in my guilt and shame, God was at work. Over time, the things of the world lost their grip, and my desire for Jesus grew stronger. Eventually, I gave up alcohol altogether—something I never thought possible. Even more life-changing, I fully surrendered my heart back to Christ. And it all started with a simple Facebook post, a friend who kept showing up, and a relentless God who never stopped pursuing me.
Some Sundays I was “too hungover” to go. But even in my guilt and shame, God was at work. Over time, the things of the world lost their grip, and my desire for Jesus grew stronger. Eventually, I gave up alcohol altogether—something I never thought possible. Even more life-changing, I fully surrendered my heart back to Christ. And it all started with a simple Facebook post, a friend who kept showing up, and a relentless God who never stopped pursuing me.
God doesn’t waste our passions. He plants them in us for a purpose. Photography was never just a hobby for me; it was a lifeline. In middle school, it helped me cope with social anxiety. My camera gave me permission to engage with the world. Over time, it became a tool to share beauty, to savor life’s greatest moments, and to reflect the Light of the One who created it all.
