This post has a drawing of a blue Jesus I etched (in complement to Gaugin's Yellow Jesus in parody, Jesus wanting to escape into a painting) and a photo I came across in a family album of an apparent unknown boy from the black and white days. Now add to the mix a Kierkegaard quote, (a chap who never worked, lived on a pension-inheritance, wandered the streets, wrote voraciously) and you have an interesting ensemble. They do not connect yet offer something unexplainable in relationship. Call my first sense a fierce individuality. We have got to fight for a fierce individuality! (SK: 'Experiments of thought!')

Kierkegaard, from His Philosophical Fragments, (1844). I call it 'Christianity defined by a Christian criticizing Christianity':

'...But the servant form was no mere outer garment, and therefore God must suffer all things, endure all things, make experience of all things. He must suffer hunger in the desert, he must thirst in the time of his agony, he must be forsaken in death, absolutely like the humblest - behold the man! His suffering is not that of his death, but his entire life is a story of suffering; and it is love that suffers, the love which gives all is itself in want. What wonderful self-denial! for though the learner be one of the lowliest, he nevertheless asks him anxiously: Do you now really love me? For he knows where the danger threatens, and yet he also knows that every easier way would involve a deception, even though the learner might not understand it.

Every other form of revelation would be a deception in the eyes of love; for either the learner would first have to be changed, and the fact concealed from him that this was necessary (but love does not alter the beloved, it alters itself); or there would be permitted to prevail a frivolous ignorance of the fact that the entire relationship was a delusion. (This was the error of paganism.) Every other form of revelation would be a deception from the standpoint of the divine love.

And if my eyes were filled with more tears than those of a repentant woman, and if each tear were more precious than a pardoned (person's) many tears; if I could find a place more humble than the place at his feet, and if I could sit there more humble than a (person) whose heart's sole choice was this one thing needful; if I loved him more sincerely than the most loyal of his servants, eager to shed the last drop of his life-blood in his service: if I had found greater favor in his eyes than the purest among (people)--nevertheless, if I asked him to alter his purpose, to reveal himself differently, to be more lenient with himself, he would doubtless look at me and say: Man, what have I to do with thee? Get thee hence, for thou art Satan, though thou knowest it not! Or if he once or twice stretched forth his hand in command, and it happened, and I then meant to understand him better or love him more, I would doubtless see him weep also over me, and hear him say: To think that you could prove so faithless, and so wound my love! Is it then only the omni-potent wonder worker that you love, and not him who humbled himself to become your equal...?

Never underestimate what lies behind and amongst. BW