THE SCULPTOR - CHAPTER TWO

THE SCULPTOR TILMAN'S INCREDIBLE AND MYSTICAL JOURNEY IN PURSUIT OF LOVE, DESTINY AND GOD'S GRACE

Mending a Broken Heart

When you run away from God, you run right into his arms.

God is always at work. Love him not for any advantage but for

the sake of your Soul. Be empty so he can fill you with divinity.

Examine yourself and turn away from the earthly temptations.

Tilman had walked aimlessly for two weeks through a landscape of destruction. A deep despair had afflicted his Soul since he witnessed the brutal murder of his family and all the other families in his village. His body became a mere visitor to the necessities of life. A deep melancholy replaced his cheerful character. A heavy burden made his youthful frame crooked like an old man. Monsters and demons had invaded his being and were sullying his Soul. An utter darkness manifested itself in his chosen inner prison, and the terrible shadow of death followed him steadily with every step. Tilman awoke every night, bathed in cold sweat since the brutal destruction of his beloved village, Eichenwald.

He repeatedly saw the marauding soldiers, ruthless and relentless, approaching the townlet with the sinister intent of destruction.

In the evening, when the terror of death and malice rained down on the village, Tilman wandered happily in the nearby open fields to welcome spring and its abundance of freshly green shoots. In the blink of an eye, the tranquility of Eichenwald shattered like glass; the quiet, charming hamlet became a scene of chaos and brutality. He heard the cries of the innocent fill the evening, their voices a chorus of terror and despair. Armored in iron and cloaked in malice, the soldiers descended upon the village like an unforgiving tempest. Men, women, and children were herded like lambs to the slaughter, bound by a fate they had no power to change.

The marauders showed no mercy, their brutality a chilling testament to the harsh realities of bloodthirsty men lost to the devil. Tilman could see his father's life being extinguished with a single stroke and his sister's loving spirit snuffed out like a candle in a storm. Tilman had survived by the grace of God, but his world was shattered, and his heart heavy with grief. He lay beside his father and sister for hours after the soldiers had left, unable to stop crying and wailing in pain that grasped his gentle heart.

Tilman spent several nights in the ruined church of Eichenwald. The once beautiful stained glass windows were shattered, and the pews had been reduced to rubble. The moon shone through the broken openings, casting an eerie silver glow and creating strange patterns on the cracked wooden floor. His father's altarpiece, a depiction of Jesus and the Apostles at the Last Supper, still stood untouched. Even the brutal savages who had destroyed the church would not touch such a sacred relic. The wooden "figures bore witness to the devotion and artistry that had defined Tilman's father's existence. Tilman felt a deep yearning to create similar objects of spiritual devotion in the silent presence of these holy carvings. He understood that only the quest to create beauty and piety could balance the hatefulness and viciousness that plagued the world. Tilman wanted to find meaning in the chaos and channel his love for humanity into creations of beauty and purity.

He envisioned intricate altarpieces that would speak to the souls of those who beheld them, each carving a vessel of faith and beauty, a prayer in wood. The Virgin Mary, who had caressed his face with her tender hand in his dreams, seemed to speak to him. Her ethereal presence became a source of hope and a beacon of light in his darkness.

Tilman remembered his father telling him about Meister Balthasar, a Master in the Art of Wood and Stone Carving. He was known as the most gifted sculptor in all of Germany, creating figures of spiritual beauty and deep devotion. Meister Balthasar lived in the free Imperial town of Nuremberg in Bavaria, a long journey away from Eichenwald.

As Tilman embarked on the road to Nuremberg, he recalled the words of his father: "To remember that everybody will find their destiny when the clarity within one has chosen a way. Then, everything necessary will be learned on the path, and even experiencing weakness or doubts will only lead to strength and certainty in the face of self-realization. Be wise and see yourself from a distance, aim to improve, and wish to fulfill your task; then you are transforming lead into gold and a simple tree branch into the most beautiful woman."

Remembering his father's words, a stream of deep love rushed from his heart, filled his Being, and made him silent. He understood that to be in the face of God is an endless miracle, an invitation to make one's existence beautiful and meaningful. His journey's pinnacle would be creating his masterwork, praising his ultimate spiritual awakening. He put his hand on the wooden cross around his neck that he had made for himself the previous year, and his heart filled with an unspeakable joy and jubilation that he had never experienced.

He felt alive in a new way. And this mystery would never let go of him; it stayed like a scent on his Being that no soap could wash away. He walked on with a firm step, carrying with him the dreams and teachings of his father, the warmth of his sister's memory, and the ethereal presence of the Virgin Mary, who continued to guide him on a path to transcend the ordinary. This path - he now knew - would lead him to the Divine through the Art of Sculpting his visions of beauty and faith.

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