In His Own Image

             In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. (Genesis 1:1)

 

God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. (Genesis 1:27)

 

In my reading for Sunday School this week, one of the subjects was creativity. Prof. Willard pointed out that we are creative in little ways as God is creative in grand ways. We can create a cake or a human being with our thoughts and a little help from physical objects and ingredients. God created the whole universe from His thought and Word.

A lot of people will chime in with “I’m not creative.” If they bake a cake, they’ll say, it involves a box with a little oil, an egg or two – or whatever the box tells them to add, followed up with icing that comes out of a plastic can. “No, I’m not creative,” they proclaim, while the treat that they made brings blessings to all at the table.

In Life Without Lack, Prof. Willard says, “One of the greatest needs today is for people to really see and really believe the things they already profess to see and believe.” (Italics in the original, p. xv.) If we believe the verses above, we must be willing to at least consider the possibility that we are creative, and with that possibility, to consider the possibility that we’re not defining the word correctly.

This is my struggle. Years ago, when I was jogging at least a couple miles per day, I had an argument with God. “I am not a jogger,” I declared.

“What makes you think you’re not a jogger?”

          I listed my objections. Joggers jog regularly. Joggers wear special shoes. Joggers wear clothes specifically for jogging. I don’t remember what else I claimed, but God effectively held up a mirror. Jogging regularly, check. Special shoes, check. Wearing clothes specifically for jogging, check, check, check.

          Some time later, the leader of an artists support group challenged the group to begin a new project, which would be displayed in 3 or 4 months. After much consideration, I had an idea. I would write a series of essays about the blessings we receive from people we don’t notice – the blessings of the invisible. I have a special place in my heart for garbage collectors, so they were among the first. While on a walk, these words presented themselves:

“Hands that pick up what hands cast away,

At driveway’s end or along the way.”

          “That’s a poem,” I complained to God. “I’m not a poet. No, I’m not a poet. Na-uh.”

          And the answer I got was, “You are now.” Here’s the evidence, you decide: Blessings of the Invisible

          I wrote about two dozen poems that summer, and little poetry since. Some of what I wrote was and is (as far as I’m concerned) worthy. But I’m not a poet.

          And then there’s the problem that I’m not an author. I have written two editions of one family history, and another of someone else’s family history. I wrote those poems, and I have written and published two novels. But I’m not an author because my stories haven’t made me successful. My books have cost me far more than I’ve gotten from them, so I am not an author.

          The story repeats. I’m not a gardener. I’m not crafty. I’m not organized. I’m not a cook. And it’s not only in the creative realm. I’m not a birder. I’m not a butterfly person. I’m not a forager. I’m not a snowbird. I’m not a reader. I am not creative.

          And yet, God created, and I am made in His image. If I am to really believe that what Scripture says is true, then I must be at least willing to explore the “promised land” known as Creativity. I must send spies in to bring back samples of what is found there, and I must be prepared to fight the battles God gives me to fight, according to the rules He gives me, in order to take the land that is promised to me.

          And in coming to know what it means for me to be creative, I may discover a little of what it means for God to be creative. One of the few things that I have learned is what I call the “Yuck Phase.” When I make some crafty thing, it is almost guaranteed that there will be at least one time (usually many, or one long time) in which I think “Yuck. This is really bad. Why do I do this to myself?” I have learned to keep going because when I get done, the things that caused the “Yuck” are gone or don’t matter much.

          I’ve watched artists paint portraits, and I see the same “Yuck” phase. They use colors that don’t belong in the skin of any person. But when it’s done, you can’t tell that the color in question was used, or – miraculously – it looks completely right.

          Some people wonder how a good God could allow evil. Could it be that the “evil” or “Yuck” is part of the process of creating? And that having the courage and discipline to keep with it through the evil and yuck is precisely what makes something art? Could it be that creation is not possible without it?

          But returning to Prof. Willard’s point. Are we really believing what we claim we believe about God and about ourselves if we deny creativity and push it away because we’re afraid of what it will cost us?