In Brief : The Underwater Welder

Sometimes, you log in to Amazon for the one moment a graphic novel on your wish list has dropped 75% in price. And in that moment, you buy The Underwater Welder by Jeff Lemire. Though Lemire dwells often in the superhero realm, Welder is the story of an ordinary man facing his past in order to face his future. It is an exploration of pressure crystallized on the black and white page.

The Artwork

The Underwater Welder is a story in ink mixed with grayscale watercolor. Damon Lindelof compares the story to an episode of the Twilight Zone in his introduction. The gray palette certainly helps, and enables some of the artistic effects, many of which are designed to nearly freeze a moment in time and allow the reader to think:

There are instances in the book where Lemire breaks a still shot into six panels. As a reader, I loved this effect as it forced me to survey the scene with particular interest. Creative application of such simple concepts add depth to a moment.

There are recurring liquid moments – perhaps a necessity in an underwater novel. Among these, there are plip panels which feature a drop falling into a puddle. They are distributed throughout, but they unify the storytelling voice and highlight moments within the broader context.

What often moves a story from quaint to profound, and what is perhaps my favorite overall feature of the art, is the author’s apparent trust in the moment he created. Beautiful visual stories let the human intellect do a little bit of the work. Storytellers who leave nothing to the imagination often steal from their own work because they remove their readers/viewers from the process. Lemire lets seconds linger in simplicity in such a way that invite engagement. He brings numerous moments to a standstill without telling the reader what to think.

The Story

The Underwater Welder tells the story of Jack Joseph, a father-to-be who works beneath an offshore oil rig as a welder. His father Pete, also a diver, died on Halloween when Jack was only 10. Jack is wrestling with generational chains, working to reconcile the past as he faces his own future.

The story, like the art, is simple enough as to be broadly appealing and applicable. Jack Joseph is utterly ordinary, which makes him accessible. But in the details, Lemire establishes a reason to care for his characters, to invest in their circumstance, and to anticipate the resolution.

Early on, Jack has something of a supernatural underwater encounter that stuns and confuses him at first, nearly killing him. With each passing hour, the encounter entrances him and compels him to return to the water.

Where the story goes all Twilight Zone is in the third and fourth episodes. Jack lives out an eerie extended moment derived especially as a revelation for his life. The noise is removed and he is alone with himself. Without spoiling too much, Jack is trapped by the gift of exploring the his father’s death and his present pain. It is marvelously drawn and presented. It was worth the full price of admission… which makes the 75% off even more celebratory!

In the back half, as Jack fights the generational pull to become his perception of his father, the story and artwork move seamlessly in circuit from young Jack to old Jack to old Pete. Lives are intertwined and in the knotted mess, Jack is figuring out what went wrong, what is still yet right, and where his future lies.

The second half of the story rolls downhill at a lively pace. I loved the conclusion, not because it was unforeseeable, but because it had heart. It had gravity and lent itself to contemplation. Jack Joseph’s life was colored by the complicated life and death of his father. Jack Joseph’s life was about to become the brush that would color his own child’s beginning. This is the tapestry of humanity, and it is worth exploring in all its ordinary glory.

Ultimately, The Underwater Welder is a story about the revelatory power of pressure. Pressure can crush things, leaving only pieces. Pressure can also chip away the brokenness to reveal integrity. Jack’s story, and the destiny of his family, lie in the human response to immense pressure.

A Worthwhile Read

Even as a graphic novel, The Underwater Welder is a welcome moment apart from the noise of life to explore and ponder the complexities of the human soul, a chance to consider the effect of sin that lingers from one generation to the next, an opportunity to weigh the significance of the father/son relationship, and an entertaining and visually engaging read to boot.

Jeff Lemire has set the table for a number of interesting conversations. Grab a cup of coffee and jump in.



Just How Personal?

Every once in a while, it might be good to ask ourselves why we use particular phrases. For that matter, we should also ask whether it is a good idea to continue using them. For the sake of discussion, I’d like to propose laying to rest the “personal relationship with Jesus.” Before you gather the lynch mob, please allow me to explain.

I understand the phrase. I’ve used the phrase. As time has passed, though, I’ve come to see possible issues with just tossing the phrase to the masses without qualification.

To clarify, I love the “relationship with Jesus.” Without question. By grace through faith, the relationship with Jesus is the key matter of every individual’s life. We will all one day stand before the Lord to answer the question he posed to his friends long ago, “Who do you  say I am?” It is my hope, my prayer, that countless saints will stand before the Savior with submissive, adoring hearts and declare him to be the Christ, the Son of the living God. The relationship is critical.

My issue, then, lies with the personal aspect.

A quick search of the term online yields an expected definition. “Of, affecting, or belonging to a particular person rather than to anyone else.” Scanning the results of the search uncovers additional insight to our cultural understanding and application of the word. I found other terms and ideas in the website bylines… private, user-centric, “maintained for personal use”. Personal ads for companionship seem to frequent the list. Again, none of these terms or ideas are unexpected from the search. After all, it’s personal.

But now apply them to the Christian faith.




Maintained for personal use.

SWM seeking savior who will carry through sand.

These terms don’t line up with the biblical description of a relationship with Jesus. Communal. Christ-centric. Other-centric. Maintained for God’s use. Following his footsteps rather than asking him to follow me around and pick me up in the midst of mine. Submission to the Creator of the universe according to his terms, for his purposes, for his glory alone for all eternity.

The more personal the relationship, the more likely the person has injected their own personality into the equation. The trouble with injecting a faith relationship with boatloads of personality is that our personalities are all fatally flawed. It’s a lethal injection.

The terms of a relationship with Christ are spelled out in the Scriptures. The Bible. The Word of God. The terms are completely external to ourselves. They are not entry points for negotiation, they are terms to which we must surrender. The first step is waving the white flag. There is no room for personality in the terms of the relationship. Obviously there is plenty of room for the expression of personality within the boundaries of the relationship, but on a paper diagram, this is secondary.

Perhaps a more useful term might be a biblical relationship with Jesus.

Why quibble over words? Does this really matter?

Consider one of the current diagnoses plaguing the church today: Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. According to this diagnosis, God is one to whom we turn in order to do good (moralistic) and feel good (therapeutic), but we want him to stay out of our business (Deism). MTD is an unsatisfactory picture of God. His ultimate aim is not simply that we do good & feel good while he remains a cosmic spectator. His aim is surrender. Jesus, God in flesh, came to live a perfect life on our behalf, die a sacrificial death for our sin, and come intimately into our very hearts to bring the gift of life. This comes by surrender. Total and unconditional. Our doing good comes by his grace & the empowerment of the Holy Spirit. Our feeling good is the result of the joy and peace we find in knowing and being known, in trial and triumph, by the One responsible for knitting together our very souls. The Lord remains transcendent (above creation – which, if left alone, leads to Deism), but he is also immanent (in creation – which, if left alone, leads to  God who is experienced and defined by our feelings).

Is it possible that MTD has gained prominence, not because it is the exclusive explicit message of the church (I don’t often hear God specifically presented this way – though maybe I’m wrong!), but because the primary message of the church has been an invitation to a personal relationship, delivered to a culture that believes truth is subjective? After all, if I could design my own, personal God, he would probably look a lot like the God of MTD.

Relativism presents a unique challenge to the gospel, because the biblical terms of surrender are the same for every human who has ever lived: often simplified as 1) repent of sin (sin as defined by God, not by our opinions) and 2) trust in Jesus (the Jesus revealed in the Scriptures, not by the media or even by many of his followers). Surrender. This is why Christians are a community. We are all recipients of the same grace. On the same terms. With the same God. The ground is level at the foot of the cross.

Somewhere along the way, some folks thought this communal expression of faith in Jesus became too dogmatic. Too traditional. Too corporately expressed. The personal touch was lost. Christians sought to be part of the group rather than knowing Jesus intimately through personal surrender. So Christians did what Christians do, particularly American Christians. Rather than stopping the pendulum, they swung it hard in another direction. (The beautiful thing about a pendulum is that you can swing in  360 degrees of possibility… the frustrating fun is waiting to apprehend the next direction) The focal point became the personal relationship. Going to church isn’t enough. The faith of your family isn’t enough. It’s got to be personal. Let’s talk about Christianity in terms of the personal relationship.

The heart of the expression is correct. The over-application in the midst of cultural relativism, I believe, has been harmful.

Couple the seemingly exclusive use of the term (how often have you heard someone invite a non-believer to join the covenant community of faith?) with our cultural excitement for individuality, and you have a taste of the current nature of the personal relationship: My Jesus. My faith. My relationship. Our me culture distorts the biblical relationship by way of lethal injection.

I know what the Bible says, but my Jesus wouldn’t say that…

My relationship with God is different…

It is the opinion of this redeemed sinner that if we simply toss the personal relationship to the masses without qualification – particularly in our post-modern, post-Christian, post-everything society – we are asking every individual to come to individualized terms of what it means to know Jesus. We remove the Word of God as the authoritative source of truth, and we lead many to believe that their drive-thru, have-it-your-way relationship with God is OK.

As one who will be held to account for my stewardship of the good news, I think about issues such as these. I long for the pendulum to stop, for balance to remain. When I step to the pulpit, I pray that I might present the relationship as biblically given as though God’s Word is actually authoritative. Yes, that means talking about the holiness of God and the reality that sin is deserving of eternal judgment, clarifying that the personal aspect looks like personal surrender – not personal terms, extending the invitation without reservation to be part of the covenant community of sinners on level ground, to walk together in faith and humility under the Lordship of another who is far more deserving of the sovereignty he boasts.

Sign of the times : a Lament

(I wrote this in October 2012… I think I edited 2 sentences here… I’m recycling. I’m allowed.)

Every once in a while, a particular event in life really brings to light a bigger picture. Yesterday was one such event. I found out that a childhood neighbor had passed away. He had lived in the house next door to my parents all the days of my life. In my mind and heart, his passing marks a significant change in the times. Allow me to elaborate.

As I was growing up, I spent a considerable amount of time at Rudy’s house. He was nearly fifty years my senior, and so it was like having another grandfather right next door. I would wander over many days, just to see what he was working on in his garage. I remember the oldies (real oldies) playing on his garage radio all the time. Sometimes it was a household project. Sometimes he was cleaning the car. Sometimes it was a woodworking project for himself or one of his grandsons. He loved wood carving, which I always thought was fascinating. Many times he would be out swinging a golf club in the backyard. Regardless of the day’s activities, he would always greet me with a smile and welcome me into whatever he was doing. He truly was a neighbor.

I grew up not really knowing my grandfathers, one having passed before I was born, and the other passing when I was quite young. In many ways, the neighbor filled the role of a grandfather. Obviously he could not claim such a role, nor was it his responsibility to do so. But his friendship was significant in that he brought the wisdom of another generation and the kind smiles and willingness to put up with the little kid next door, even teaching him a thing or two from time to time. That’s good stuff.

I say his passing marks the changing times for this reason : in today’s world, his actions would likely be viewed as suspect. Little kids no longer wander over to the older neighbor’s house. We no longer trust that the neighbor is simply passing on another generation’s wisdom or the kind service of teaching a boy how to carve a fish out of a block of wood. We just don’t trust like that. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve all been given excessive reason not to trust. But I still lament that passing of a more innocent generation.

If you know me, you know I place a high priority on family. I also place a high priority on giving our children the opportunity to glean every last piece of wisdom from the previous generations – in the proper context. As our children are often increasingly isolated from older generations, I am saddened. We have limited the number of voices who have the opportunity to speak life experience into our children. I am not foolish enough to think that, at this point in life, my voice is enough to raise my children. I just haven’t been around that long. I’m still learning myself.

I want my children to learn from their grandparents. I want my children to learn from those who have lived and walked this earth for many more years than I have. Heck, I want to learn from them too! This means adults in the church, family, friends and neighbors. I worry that we are robbing our children of the wisdom that comes with age. I worry that because of the twisted sin of the world in which we live, we feel as though we have no choice.

I hope my children find their Rudy. I hope that by the time I have some wisdom to share (it’ll probably be a few more years…) the world isn’t such a dark place that I have no neighbors with which to share it.