Akiane Kramarik painted a beautiful picture of Jesus called “Prince of Peace” when she was just 8 years old. This amazing artwork was forgotten for 16 years after it was stolen, sold by mistake, and kept away in darkness. Now, it has been brought back to the light for everyone to see.
Now 28 years old, Akiane Kramarik is a best-selling author, entrepreneur, and philanthropist. She is known for her beautiful spiritual paintings, which feature her amazing brushstrokes. When she painted “Prince of Peace,” she felt a strong urge, inspired by a recurring vision, to create an image of Jesus as a “profound role model for humanity.”
At just nine years old, Akiane appeared on the Oprah Show and showcased her art, which was much bigger than her small frame. Among her paintings was the famous portrait of Jesus, “Prince of Peace,” created with her special techniques.
“You’re obviously gifted. Where does this come from?” Oprah asked her.
“It comes from God,” Akiane confidently answered.
In another interview, when Akiane was just 10, she was asked how she knew it was God speaking to her. She replied, “Because I can hear His voice. His voice is quiet and beautiful.”
Interestingly, Akiane’s family is not religious, and they never talked about God in their small-town Idaho home.
“It wasn’t just art that was happening. Along with the art, there was a spiritual awakening,” said Akiane’s mother, Forelli Kramarik, who grew up in an atheistic family in Lithuania. “It all began when Akiane started sharing her dreams and visions. My husband, who was a former Catholic, did not share the same beliefs. We didn’t pray together, didn’t talk about God, and never went to church. Then suddenly, Akiane started talking about God.”
Akiane was homeschooled and didn’t have babysitters or a television, so she wasn’t influenced by anyone outside the home, her mother explained. “We were always with the kids, so we knew these words from Akiane about God didn’t come from outside influences. But suddenly, there were deep conversations about God’s love and His place in our lives, and she described everything in great detail.”
Akiane said her portrait of Jesus was inspired by a vision she had since she was a preschooler. She explained that she would illustrate her visions through poetry and writing, but it became too “complex to describe through words, so I painted.”
She added, “I always think about Jesus and talk about Him. I was searching for a model of Jesus for a long time. When I couldn’t find anyone, I suggested to my family that we pray all day for God to send the right one.”
The family prayed, and then a very tall carpenter—like Jesus, who was also a carpenter—showed up at their door looking for work. Akiane remembered almost fainting when she saw him. “I told my mother that was him. I want him to be my model,” she said.
Inspired by the image in her dreams and using the carpenter as her model, Akiane painted “Prince of Peace,” a painting that is now priceless and recognized all over the world.
“Prince of Peace” showcased Akiane’s vivid and detailed techniques, which were impressive for such a young artist. The painting was sent to an exhibition but was stolen during the journey. A few years later, it was finally returned to Akiane, but when it came back, it was covered in sawdust, which she carefully cleaned off.
The family tried to share Akiane’s spiritually inspired portrait with the world again, but a clerical mistake put the painting up for sale instead of for exhibition. “Prince of Peace” was sold to a private collector, and after a long court battle to get it back, which ended with the painting stored under a dark stairwell, Akiane decided to focus on creating new masterpieces, which received praise worldwide.
Not willing to lose hope, Akiane, whose talents helped lift her family from poverty, believed she would see her “Prince of Peace” again. In the meantime, she traveled to over 30 countries, helping different groups of people with her art and sharing her message of peace and spirituality. She also kept the memory of “Prince of Peace” alive by selling more than 100,000 prints.
In 2019, something incredible happened.
The “Prince of Peace” painting was put up for sale and purchased for $850,000 by an anonymous family. It’s said this family is “one of the world’s most distinguished and esteemed families.”
The new owners see themselves as the protectors of the original painting. They believe it is their mission to safeguard it for future generations, allowing its story to inspire and touch millions of people.
After almost 20 years, Akiane unwrapped her precious “Prince of Peace.” With tears in her eyes, she dropped to her knees. In a recent CBS interview, she said, “It was amazing to me. To be able to see this in the light again, after so many years.”
She added, “It’s still surreal to me. I’m not gonna lie… Love is so powerful. It will always show up on time for people who need it most.”
“Akiane: The Early Years,” showcasing the famous “Prince of Peace” painting, is now on display at the Belóved Gallery in Marble Falls, TX.
I Recognized a Beggar as My Fiancé Who Disappeared from Our Wedding 8 Years Ago — His Explanation Shocked Me
I never expected to see Jacob, my ex-fiancé, again, especially not as a beggar in Central Park. Confronting him unveiled a shocking betrayal that left me questioning everything I knew about my past and the people I trusted most.
“Come on, Nina, just one more slice of pizza before you go,” my old friend Eric insisted, flashing his signature grin.
“No way,” I laughed, “I have a flight to catch. And a Central Park stroll to make, remember?”
Eric rolled his eyes but waved me off. “Fine, but you’ll regret missing out on another slice of genuine New York pizza when you’re back in boring old St. Louis,” he jibed.
New York City pictured from above | Source: Pexels
I laughed and hugged him and headed off to Central Park, savoring the last bit of my nostalgic trip. New York always had a way of making me feel so alive, but it also reminded me of Jacob somehow, and I had a strange feeling about him right then.
The weekend had been a whirlwind. I spent hours wandering through boutiques in SoHo, splurging on designer dresses and quirky accessories. The smell of leather from luxury handbags still lingered in my mind. Lunch at a trendy café, where I indulged in an avocado toast that tasted like heaven, was a highlight.
A woman shopping for dresses and shoes | Source: Pexels
Dinner at a swanky rooftop restaurant with Eric, overlooking the city lights, had been the perfect way to end my day. New York was a feast for the senses, a place where I could lose myself in the crowds and flavors.
Eight years had passed since my wedding day disaster. I was at peace with it, or so I thought. That was until I saw him.
There he was, on a bench, looking like a ghost from the past, disheveled and begging. My heart stopped. Could it really be Jacob, my long-lost fiancé? I had to know.
A woman talking to a destitute man in a park | Source: Pexels
“Jacob?” I approached cautiously.
He looked up, eyes widening in recognition. “Nina? Oh wow, it’s really you.”
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “What happened to you?”
He lowered his gaze, shame evident. “It’s a long story. Can we talk?”
I hesitated but then nodded, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Fine. Let’s get something to eat.”
A destitute man holding a sign | Source: Pexels
We walked to a nearby café, the awkward silence between us growing with each step. I ordered two coffees and a couple of burgers, glancing at Jacob, who seemed lost in thought.
I handed him his cup, our fingers briefly touching, sending a jolt of memories through me. We walked back into the park, found a bench under a large oak tree, and sat down, the city bubbling around us.
“Start from the beginning,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.
A man eating food on a park bench | Source: Pexels
Jacob took a deep breath. “Two hours before our wedding, men came to my room. They said your father sent them.”
“My father?” I echoed, shocked.
“Yes,” he continued, “they took me away, beat me until I couldn’t remember anything. I ended up wandering, and now… this.”
I stared at him, disbelief mixing with pity. “Are you saying my father did this?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Jacob replied, eyes pleading for me to believe him.
I shook my head, trying to process it all. “They beat you up and then what?”
A woman eating a sandwich on a park bench | Source: Pexels
“They beat me until I couldn’t remember anything. I woke up in a hospital, bruised and disoriented. The doctors said I had amnesia,” Jacob explained, his voice trembling. “I didn’t even know my own name. They kept me for a while, but once I was physically stable, they discharged me. I had nowhere to go. No memory, no job, no life.”
I could see the pain in his eyes as he continued. “Without a past, I couldn’t move forward. I wandered the streets, trying to piece together fragments of who I was. The confusion and fear turned into depression. I couldn’t find work, couldn’t afford a place to stay. One bad turn led to another, and I ended up here, living day by day.”
A sad-looking man facing the camera | Source: Pexels
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Recently, some memories started coming back, but it’s like trying to grasp smoke. I remember bits of our life together, our plans, but it’s all so fragmented.”
Hearing this, my heart ached. The man I once loved had been reduced to this by forces beyond his control. “I… I don’t know what to say, Jacob. This is all so overwhelming.”
He nodded, understanding my struggle. “I get it, Nina. It’s a lot to take in. But I’m glad I got to tell you this now, so you can understand what happened to me.”
A woman on a bench with a concerned expression | Source: Pexels
We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. I looked at the man who once promised me a life together forever, now a shadow of his former self.
“I don’t know what to believe,” I finally said.
“I understand,” Jacob said quietly. “But I needed you to know.”
We finished our food in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I got up to leave, looking at Jacob, still sitting on the bench.
“Take care, Jacob,” I said softly.
“You too, Nina,” he replied, not meeting my eyes.
A woman walking away in a park | Source: Pexels
I walked away, heart heavy with unresolved emotions. As I replayed our conversation in my mind, I suddenly realized I had left my bag on the bench next to Jacob.
Panicking, I rushed back and found it right where I had left it. My weekend in New York had taken a turn I never expected, and I wasn’t sure what to do next.
***
I spent the rest of the evening wandering the city, trying to shake off the encounter. The lights of Times Square, the crowds, and the noise all felt distant. I couldn’t get Jacob’s story out of my head.
A depiction of New York’s Times Square at night | Source: Pexels
“Hey, Nina, you alright?” Eric’s voice brought me back to reality as I found myself back at his apartment.
“Yeah, just… a lot on my mind,” I replied, forcing a smile. “I decided not to take that flight home yet.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, concerned.
“In a way, I did,” I admitted. “I ran into Jacob.”
Eric’s eyes widened. “Jacob? Your Jacob?”
“Yeah, he’s… a mess. He told me some crazy story about my dad having him kidnapped.”
Eric shook his head. “That sounds nuts. You believe him?”
A woman and man conversing on a sofa in an apartment | Source: Pexels
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “It’s too much to take in.”
“Look, why don’t you stay another day? Clear your head before you fly back,” Eric suggested.
“I can’t,” I said, though the offer was tempting. “I need to go home and sort this out.”
“Alright,” Eric said, giving me a hug. “But tell me if you need anything.”
The next morning, instead of heading straight to the airport, I found myself back at Central Park. The conversation with Jacob replayed in my mind. I had to understand more before leaving the city. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe, it was a need for closure.
A woman making a call on a cell phone outdoors | Source: Pexels
I wandered through the park, hoping to find Jacob again. As I passed by the bench where we had sat, a wave of emotion hit me. I sat down, trying to piece everything together.
I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as I sat on the bench. Jacob’s story gnawed at me. It was too wild to be true, yet too detailed to be a lie. I needed answers.
“Hello, Dad?” I called my father, hoping for some clarity.
“Nina, what’s wrong? You sound upset,” he responded.
An older man talking on a cell phone | Source: Pexels
“I ran into Jacob,” I said, hearing the sharp intake of breath on the other end.
“That man has the nerve to show his face?” Dad’s voice was cold.
“He told me you had him kidnapped on our wedding day,” I blurted out.
“That’s absurd,” he replied, but there was hesitation in his voice.
“Is it? He said you hired men to beat him up and it left him with amnesia. He’s now homeless and lost in New York City.”
An woman sitting on a park bench with a cell phone in her hands | Source: Pexels
“Ridiculous. I paid him to leave you, Nina. He took the money and ran,” my father’s tone was harsh and defensive.
“So, you did interfere,” I said, anger rising.
“Yes, but for your own good. He wasn’t right for you,” he insisted.
“I can’t believe you,” I said, tears welling up. “You ruined everything.”
“Nina, please, I did it to protect you,” he pleaded, but I had already hung up and dropped my phone into my bag.
I sat for a long time, pondering what to do. Then it occurred to me to call Eric and ask him if I could stay longer in the city with him. As I rummaged in my bag for my phone, my pulse quickened.
A woman looks into in her handbag | Source: Pexels
My purse, which I had carefully placed inside, was missing. Then it hit me: yesterday, the bag had been on the bench between Jacob and me when we talked. The realization was like a punch to the gut. Had he taken my purse then? My trust, fragile already, shattered completely.
“Damn it,” I muttered, feeling panic and anger. I rifled through my bag, hoping I had just misplaced it, but it was nowhere to be found. A cold realization came over me. Jacob must have taken it when I had walked away and left it on the bench.
How could he do this? Was everything he said a lie? I felt betrayed all over again, by both Jacob and my father.
A woman contemplatives on a park bench | Source: Pexels
“Excuse me, miss, is everything alright?” a passerby asked, concern in his eyes.
“Not really,” I sighed, “but I’ll manage.”
I stood up, ready to face whatever came next. The past had reared its ugly head, but I wouldn’t let it define my future. It was time to move forward, one step at a time.
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you about a father who hid a letter addressed to his daughter from her boyfriend, only for her to find it years later.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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