Three figures stand close together in a room shrouded in darkness, their only source of light a single candle. A boy in the center holds the candlestick in his right hand, his head turned slightly, eyes peering into the shadows behind him. His left hand clutches a closed book—marked with bookmarks, filled with notes—but unopened. To his right, a girl strikes a match and lights one end of the candle. Her other hand brushes the hair from her face, or perhaps shields her eyes—she avoids the boy’s gaze. On the left, another boy—wearing a bomber jacket emblazoned with an image of the Virgin Mary and child—flicks open a Zippo and lights the other end.

The candle burns from both sides.

This painting holds a tangle of tensions: the desire to bring light, the impulse to serve, the quiet unraveling that happens when we try to do too much, please too many, all at once. The girl and boy lighting the candle seem unaware of each other’s presence—caught in their own focus, fixed on the flame rather than the consequences. The central figure either doesn’t notice or refuses to respond. Maybe he doesn’t know how to say no. Maybe he knows exactly what’s happening and carries on anyway.

Even in their disconnection, the light is real. They are illuminating the dark. But at what cost?

The candle becomes a metaphor for burnout—for the slow, noble self-destruction we call devotion, productivity, ministry, love. The hands that light it believe they are helping. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re not.

The closed book held tightly in the center is a quiet indictment. Wisdom is there—close, held—but unheeded. Scripture, discernment, truth: available, but not opened. Maybe all of this could have been avoided if they had stopped first to read, to seek, to listen.

This painting is about tension and misalignment. About how good intentions can still lead to harm. It’s about how easily we forget that light without wisdom can still burn. And yet—somehow—it’s also about grace. Even in the dysfunction, light is present. Even in confusion, something true is flickering. Because the alternative might just be sitting in the dark.

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