On the afternoon of March 11th, 2011, Japan was rocked by an earthquake, followed by a devastating tsunami.

March 11th, 2011 was my 19th birthday.

The evening of March 10th, I felt strangely restless. I stayed up until a little past midnight, just painting idly. I didn’t start with a picture in mind, but rather let my hands do what they wanted. The result was a canvas board filled with bars of color. There was a strip of black going all the way across the bottom, followed by the rest of the colors you see here, gradually peeling back from the upper right to leave the corner plain white.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but definitely felt as though it was incomplete. So I mounted it on top of my closet so I could eyeball it for as long as it took for me to figure out how to finish it, then eventually went to sleep.

At the same time I was painting—and I mean, the exact same time—sixteen hours ahead of me, Japan was being shaken by natural disaster.

I didn’t know this until the following morning, when I woke up. Expecting great things to come out of being 19 years of age, I took my time getting up. One of the first things I did was check my phone, where I saw a prayer request from my friend Sarah asking to pray for her friends in Japan.

I texted back asking what had happened, and she told me in brief about what had happened.

Japan was hit by an undersea megathrust earthquake at about 2 in the afternoon local time. The magnitude of the earthquake was 9.0, measuring the most powerful known earthquake in history.

The rest of my day was spent in concern and mild confusion; “What are you doing, God?” is a question I asked every time I heard an update of people in danger or people who had died or gone missing. And the toll of both continued to rise throughout the day.

I had a small birthday party that evening, during which I learned of the American tourist who had stood in front of one of the enormous tsunami waves to take pictures—and then been swept away by the wave. The news even had his disappearance on video footage.

While praying with my friends that evening for their son’s migraine headache to be healed, I was suddenly overcome with intense grief. I started sobbing; all I could think about was how that tourist, taken by the wave, had been someone’s baby. And now he was missing, along with who knew how many others. From the travails of my heart, I knew I had to do something.


I decided to have an art sale. I would take five weeks to paint in the Spirit, hold a sale, and send all the profits to the Mercer Mission in Sendai, Japan.

Many paintings, which I plan on eventually posting to this blog, transpired from this mission of mine. I received many powerful visions which I documented to the best of my skill and memory. But this piece you see here is the one that started the chain reaction—and I hardly knew it until over a month later.


I was midway through a series of prophetic paintings concerning Japan—specifically, the Japanese flag. Many of my paintings had the flag torn, tattered, or with the red dot in the middle cracked and bleeding. I had had many visions of what the condition of Japan was like just following the crisis, but I was pressing into God’s heart for a vision of restoration.

With several half-finished paintings surrounding me of Japan in destruction and disarray, I looked up from where I was sitting in front of my easel, to see where I had mounted the unfinished painting of rainbow colors. And my eyes were opened.


I saw that the colors were the new foundation for the map of Japan, that it wouldn’t just be a blank canvas of potential anymore, but that it would be an explosion of creativity, of beauty, of joy and goodness! I saw Japan reestablishing itself in the world as a new creation, reaching out to other nations and changing the way even we in the US see our world.

I grabbed the canvas board and painted what I saw: a new Japan, a new flag, taking on a life of its own as it spread over the new foundation of color.

Isaiah 61:3 – To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Kanon Ishibashi
    Nov 19, 2012 @ 21:26:10

    I was finding this website the whole time!!!!I finally found it!
    I love your art!


  2. Dee
    Dec 18, 2012 @ 10:43:56



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