Coming Home II: Moving from Apathy to Empathy

"Coming Home II" 24 x 48, paper collage, string, and oil on cradled panel. Part of the Coming Home Series.

"Coming Home II" represents my ongoing movement from apathy to empathy. A journey I didn’t even realize I needed to take until I found myself sitting in the quiet presence of the Lord, morning after morning, slowly becoming aware of how much I had closed off.

We live in an overstimulated world. There is always something demanding our attention. And yet, ironically, it has never been easier to disengage. With noise-canceling headphones, curated media feeds, and carefully constructed bias bubbles, I can stay informed without ever truly being involved.

Over time, I noticed something subtle taking root in me.

Apathy.

Webster’s Dictionary defines apathy as “lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern.” A synonym is complacency. But in my experience, apathy isn’t loud or aggressive. It’s quiet. It grows slowly. It often disguises itself as practicality or emotional efficiency.

When I look honestly at my own life, apathy has looked like:

• Changing the subject when things get uncomfortable.

• Looking away from the hungry couple at the stoplight.

• Offering quick solutions instead of lingering long enough to truly listen.

• Saying, “This doesn’t directly affect me,” and allowing that to excuse my inaction.

  
  

At some point, I reached an intersection: the comfort of apathy began to hurt more than the discomfort of empathy.

Avoiding pain, mine or someone else’s, did not bring peace. It brought distance.

And distance is not home.

That is where "Coming Home II" was born.

Collage background of "Coming Home II"

The title itself holds tension. “Coming Home” implies return and something ongoing. A return to our original design and a return to our Creator. That’s what spiritual formation is all about. Not about being a better person, but in working with God’s Spirit to restore connection with Him. I believe empathy is a big part of that. We are created in the image of a compassionate God — the “Father of compassion and the God of all comfort” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4) — who comforts us so that we may comfort others.

To move toward empathy is, in many ways, to return to who we were meant to be.

In this piece, the figure to the farthest right side is looking back across the picture plane as she sits in a resigned pose.  To me, she speaks of where I felt as I discovered my own apathy. Then comes the silhouetted figure who is leaving the scene and waving goodbye. This is the moment when I noticed where I was and that I simply couldn’t stay. The two figures who are on the left side of the panel are indicative of what it looks like to move through life with empathy. Joy, connection, and purpose. While this type of growth is not easy, it is simple in its practice and rich in reward. 

Apathy contracts.

Empathy expands.

Apathy protects comfort.

Empathy risks it.

Empathy does not always mean fixing a problem. It means being present inside it. It means asking more questions instead of supplying quick answers. It means pausing rather than pivoting away. It means seeing the person in front of me as an image bearer of God — not a category, not a headline, not a political talking point.

As I created "Coming Home II," I was not painting a finished transformation. I was painting the movement itself.

Because this journey is ongoing.

There are still days I look away. Still moments I choose convenience over compassion. The movement from apathy to empathy often feels like one step forward and three steps back. But I no longer mistake comfort for peace.

Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied.” I am beginning to understand that feeding my own comfort leaves me empty — but pursuing right relationship with God and with others, even when it costs something, fills me in a deeper way.

Empathy feels more like home.

And so this piece is both confession and commitment.

It is a confession that I have closed myself off.

And it is a commitment to keep leaning in.

Coming home, again and again.

If this story feels familiar to you, I invite you to pause and consider where you might be standing at that same intersection between apathy and empathy. Where is empathy quietly asking to grow in you?

"Coming Home II" is my visual reminder of that question, layered and imperfect, still in process — just like me. If you would like to see this piece in person, you can schedule a studio visit or borrow it for a few days in your own space to see what it may say to you.