The Creative Calling
- The Medium Is The Message (1)
- Our Creative Inspiration (4)
Creativity is a funny word. It’s an artsy word, right? What kind of person do you think of when you think ‘creative’? People who wear quirky glasses? People with off-the-wall outfits? People who are spontaneous and spend long days in log cabins surrounded by wooded areas to ‘find themselves’?
People often tell me I’m creative. Maybe it’s just the quirky glasses talking here, but I think creativity is broader than our thinking suggests. When I was a kid and I was walking through the woods with Mamgu, Dadcu and a dog called Jiip (a creative name for a dog right?!), we’d all wander in the same direction but how I got there looked different; sometimes I’d sprint, sometimes I’d skip and sometimes I’d jump over sticks and fall flat on my face! When I unload the dishwasher, looking quizzically at the very creative crockery arranging by my dear Cath, sometimes I open all the cupboards first, ask Alexa to play Walking in Memphis, and dance around the kitchen to make a mundane task a little less mundane.
My point is that we all have the ability to create, even in the most mundane of tasks. We don’t just get to choose what we do, we also get to choose how we do it.
Genesis 1 is a great opener to the greatest story ever written (you could even say inspired!). On page 1, the origins of the universe, we see a blank canvas and a Creator God speaking life into being.
God (capital G) created Creation (Capital C)
He is the original orator and the one and only Creator, who made something from nothing. The Triune God stands alone; the original, who spoke ‘Mount’ and ‘Everest’, answered. In Genesis 1:27 God says, ‘Let us make mankind in our image.’ We may not always feel like it but we are the Creator’s walking canvases, the Maker’s masterpieces, and we bear his image. Uniquely like him and called to reflect him, the Creator commissions us to create.
Creativity for me looks like using words to tell stories. I picture language like a playground, interacting with words like swings and slides. I’m fascinated by how we’re wired to share stories and I’m inspired to tell stories by the greatest storyteller who ever lived, Jesus.
The Prodigal(s)
Jesus often told parables which, put simply, is a story, and like all good stories, there’s a message. The prodigal son(s) has to be one of the greatest stories ever told. It’s a story that warms hearts and ruffles feathers, that offers a loving invitation and a challenge to change. It’s a story that has been passed on across centuries, continents and cultures, yet somehow the story still makes sense. Though it was told by a working-class Jewish rabbi 2000 years ago in ancient Palestine, amazingly the story still challenges and connects profoundly today.
As stories go it has everything. Firstly, Jesus sets the scene – a father and two sons. Then from conflict to heartbreak, rejection of the father to the ruin of a son. From a father’s back-and-forth pacing by the front porch to a rebel’s return home. Let’s break down the story and pick up on some highlights.
The ruthless rebellion
The younger son sets his stall out: ‘My share of the inheritance pronto!’ Don’t miss this bit, the son wants his inheritance now. He’s not waiting around until after the funeral, and with dad very much alive, there’s not even a hint that funeral planning is even on the radar. He couldn’t have dishonoured his dad more if he had tried. He might as well have said, ‘Do us a favour old man, let’s skip the ‘you dying’ part, ‘cos you’re already dead to me.’
The rejection
As heartbroken as the father must have been, he goes along with the request.
The reckless living
The younger son parties hard. He goes on a bender, lives up the high life but burns through the inheritance.
The ruin
He loses it all, out of his depth, in debt to loan sharks, living on pig pellets.
The return
Tail between his legs, the son heads for home. He publicly shamed his father when, judging by his actions, he said he had no father. He had no right to even call himself a son and he knew it. He’d be lucky if he was taken back as a servant on lavatory duty.
The robe, the ring and full-on restoration
But then a servant’s return becomes a family reunion. Now take a moment and consider the symmetry in this story.
From a son running away,
To a father running towards.
From a son’s reckless rejection and outright rebellion,
To a father’s reckless grace, offering reconciliation.
From a rebel and a self-confessed orphan,
To a father embracing a rebel and calling him son.
From a son who loses everything for a party,
To a father who throws the biggest party and the whole town’s invited.
Why? Because my son was dead, now he’s alive.
Final thoughts
I’m inspired to create because I’m a prodigal. I was lost but now I’m found by the Almighty artist. We can only create because he first created and made it part of our makeup to do likewise.
Confession time, I probably fall into the ‘creative type’ stereotype. Sometimes I wear off-the-wall outfits, most days I wear quirky glasses and there have been times I’ve stayed in log cabins, but it’s not been to find myself. It’s been to further find God, to look closer at his fingerprint on creation, to dig deeper into the Spirit-filled pages of Scripture, to meditate on the Majestic One, to create in company with him.
I’m inspired by the psalmists, who used their words to communicate someone who cannot be wholly comprehended because his ways and thoughts are higher. For me, God’s transcendence and his holiness help take the pressure off from the outset. How can I do the original Creator justice with my words? I can’t. It takes the shackles off my stanzas and sentences and yet somehow inspires me to try.
To create is to join God in what he’s done, what he is doing and what he’ll always do.
I’m inspired by the Author of Life, who not only authored the story but stepped down into the story, in the person of Jesus, to rescue us and redeem the brokenness.
