I have a habit. Most days I begin with quiet, untethered silence. No Bible, no music, no screens available to lead my mind off on one of its many trails. I listen for whatever the Lord may impress on me and then reflectively record it in a soft, cerulean-blue leather-bound journal. Some days, I simply bask quietly in God’s loving presence, and not a word makes the page. But more often than not, I see or sense something that speaks truth to me about who God is, or who I am, or where the Lord is in different circumstances.

Not long ago, my morning started a little differently. I’d had a bit of my regular silence when a friend called. Theressa was feeling dry, lost, and wondering where God was. Why wasn’t God showing up? She was sick of it and lonely. Unhurried, I listened and held her before God as she spoke.

The details tumbled out of her with tears, and I began to see her heart on a canvas of barren land. Weeping, tempestuous clouds rained down all around. I saw a discouraged soul wandering away from a freshwater stream that snaked its way across the landscape. Almost unnoticeable, she was like a weary traveler whose back was to the lighter side of the storm. She had determined to march into the worst of the desolate squall.

Given by God? Hmmm. I don’t know.

But I hung up the phone, loaded the oil paints on my palette, and grabbed a knife. It was too vivid not to try to capture. I needed to work through something. What brush would I begin with? A palette knife.

Palette knives are fun! They add texture as they glob and spread and swipe colors across a piece. For me, the texture of pigment-bound emotion brings meaning. As the knife edged the surface, I found myself thinking about Theressa, what she had shared, and how the Lord might want to meet her. Please, would you speak, Lord? Companion her in her desert, Jesus. I stood back.

Nope. More weeping. The clouds needed to be heavier with burden, weeping sheets of rain. I rested my pallet knife on the easel. Something was missing. But notorious for overworking a painting, I stepped away, snapping a picture on my phone to send it to Theressa before going upstairs.

I hadn’t been upstairs long when I realized what I had forgotten: the tiny traveler—my friend—needed a halo. She was a saint, needing to continue on as saints usually do. So, with the tiniest flick of gold on the knife, St. Theressa had a glistening halo. It was then that it struck me: that much light over her and on her back would have to cast a shadow. A shadow would go before her. Not sure I like the idea, but it is where it needs to be.

I continued to meditate on the small smudge at the figure’s feet and, slowly, I recognized it: a shadow of glory. Wow! Thank you, Father. Thank you for your guidance into and through the desert. I bless your name and thank you for your provision in the water and the storm. And, God, thanks for the reminder that you go before your saints. We walk in the shadow of your glory. Amen.

That day the three of us journeyed together: God, Theressa, and me. The flash of concept became a painting of a prayer, listening, and praise. It was deeper than my words could address, but as the paint took to the canvas, it told me a story. Before the paint could dry, the shared creative experience of with-God community was bound to our souls.

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01.  Burning Hearts

“Didn’t we feel our hearts burn within us as he talked to us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32, NLTScripture quotations marked (NLT) are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Streams, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.).

God is speaking all the time. All along the road of my journey, we talk. Sometimes God explains things; other times he nourishes my tension with more mystery. Regularly, we break the bread of communion. My eyes are opened. My heart is burning.

When I was young, I didn’t recognize this creative fire of God. One of the first times I remember being drawn toward the mystery it introduced is vivid. At thirteen, I was away from home at camp for the first extended time. Late one night, something drew me outside. The call came from a light high atop a hill across the lake. Its steadiness mesmerized me, speaking to me of the Lord’s transcendent peace, hope, redemption, and quiet wisdom.

Night after night, under dark and clear Missouri skies, in the glow of God’s presence on the hill, I would tirelessly write poems and prayers to God and sketch the sky’s inky black canvas. Somehow, the words we wrote together during those times connected me to God in deeper ways than my spoken prayers. Those nights introduced a new fire to my soul and shed light on ways to be with God that I had never heard spoken of before.

That light still calls me. Through his Word, his world, life circumstances, and other moves of the Holy Spirit, God strikes the match. When I sense the now-familiar flame, I am moved toward his Word with creativity. Sparks of transformation fly in Spirit-led experiments with pen and ink, oil and watercolor, clay and fiber, magazines and glue. These create things in me; prayers, epiphanies, reflections, and meditations emerge.

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02.  The Three Circles

I think the community of believers longs for the fire that I, and others like me, carry within us. Picture us as the empty circle in this diagram (see figure 1). Currently within Christian infrastructures, there is a circle for the academic/intellectual crowd that is well ministered to, and another circle for those who are also well served through church/ parachurch/Bible Study ministries. Generally speaking, both of these offer curriculum and programming geared toward left-brain, analytical, and linear thinkers.

 

In this empty circle are those who most readily connect with the Lord through other means. At present, this group does not feel that they really belong in Christian community. If that is the case, this empty circle holds powerful implications for a creative person’s perception of their acceptability to God. People in this circle can’t exactly put a finger on it, but their hearts long for something more.

These are my people. Though sincere and committed to our belief in Christ, we find that traditional ways of “doing church” and being taught don’t engage the heart of who we are. As such, we are free-floating spiritual space-walkers. No circle. No example to follow.

For us, to relate is to create. “Creativity embeds knowledge in practice,” writes researcher Brené Brown.Brené Brown, Rising Strong (New York: Spiegel & Grau, 2015), eBook. We seek to “embed” our salvation in unity and honor alongside other believers.See Philippians 2:1–13. I am raising my hand to say that I have felt for too long like I’m in the same room but at the spiritual children’s table.

Here, I want to be careful to own my responsibility in this: I was never told that I was less than. I merely felt the vibe. For years, I tried sitting with the grown-ups. At their table, it was difficult to find people willing to risk conversations that reflected a combination of intellect and artful encounter with God. The grownup table was just too heady. While they affirmed the usefulness of my artistic gifts, what I longed for was collaboration. I wanted to see myself in other makers—those who were intentionally seeking Jesus in their own “untraditional” (but biblically solid) ways. I needed like people who ventured to represent a Scripture passage in collage, or who kept colored pencils with their NIV, or wrote songs from sermon notes. I yearned to hear how they were finding meaning and fullness in their kingdom purpose.

In community and in our private experiences with God, people like me fan our First-Love flame by engaging in practices that promote and sustain our creative life with God. If we add a third circle, a sweet spot emerges that adds richness to each (see figure 2). It is there that we meet “the God who answers by fire” (1 Kings 18:24, NIVAll Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™) in power, beauty, and mystery. Engaging with the fullness of our individual personalities, we are changed.

I am asking for a creative movement in the body of believers. We want space at the community table. Left-and right-brainers, unite! Together, we are a compelling kingdom vision.

We need the whole brain to be holy. While left-brain thinkers rely on logical, linear, and analytical approaches, we right-brain people are more emotional, nonlinear, and creative. Though I may rely on one or the other more, I recognize the need to engage and value both sides of my mind and heart in order to relationally love the Lord, myself, and others with all of my soul and strength.See Matthew 22:36–39.

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03.  Fully Represented

Art is representational. In a gallery or on a stage, it represents thoughts and emotions in metaphorical ways. Jesus put on skin to represent the concepts of the Old Testament for us. He wove stories we could embrace, using parables and the demonstration of miracles in so much of his ministry. It was “show-and-tell” time. His existence was a visual art-made-life form. Demonstrating the significance of beauty and his capacity to heal the world’s brokenness, Jesus enacted the heart of our Father. And he still acts.

Taking in the reality of God’s glory and really envisioning his love in our soul is to experience his creative force. So when I cocreate around what he’s speaking to me, I change. My soul breaks open ever so slightly, integrating my thoughts and emotions.

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04.  Creative Space

Creative space is hard to talk about. I grew up in a well-connected evangelical home. Knowledge and mission ruled the kingdom world. My parent s had hearts to help plant  churches and serve the inner city. They had minds that brought many thought-leaders to our dinner table. These devoted, concerned, and inspiring followers of Christ were a gift in my foundational years. But while the written Word of God was frequently on the table, artful explorations of faith were rarely part of the conversation we shared. “Real faith” looked a certain way.

Still, God made me a maker and creator. Somewhere inside, you are too. Like many, I squirm to claim those titles because of the implications, but it is who I am. Pastor and futurist Erwin McManus writes:

 

I have come to realize, after over thirty years of studying human creativity, that the great divide is not between those who are artists and those who are not, but between those who understand that they are creative and those who have become convinced that we are not.Erwin Raphael McManus, The Artisan Soul: Crafting Your Life into a Work of Art (New York: HarperOne, 2014), ebook.

 

We are all creative beings.

 

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05.  In a Kingdom of Makers

I am an artist with a message God penned in my heart: You are here to help remind my people that I speak to each heart: I know your language. I see you. I hear you. I feel you. I am with you, he says.

That is why I create. I want to remind us both of God’s abiding goodness, God’s “with-ness” that we witness. As you and I come to terms with our own soul’s song, we need help from the artists to recall God’s beauty more clearly and serve as the mighty kingdom restorers that we are. It is what we were made for.

We live in a kingdom of makers. You have your own kingdom purpose. You may create around another message and in another medium or arena, but you live as a created creator, too. And if you haven’t already, you will discover the message God has penned in your heart. With this understanding, you and I become agents of transformation for others. We can offer them our true, whole, God-infused hearts. Artful integration of soul creates people empowered for change.

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06.  Imagining Holy Change

Your kingdom purpose is an invitation to co-create with God toward a vision. Imagining what you are called to inspires transformation. Holy change. When Jesus said to love “with all our mind,” (Matthew 22:37, NIV). the Greek word he chose was dianoia; it literally means “imagination.”W. E. Vines, “Imagination” in Vine’s Concise Dictionary of the Bible (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishers, ) 190. Keep with the Word! Embrace it, setting your imagination apart for the Lord’s influence on your spiritual life.

Imagining is not imaginary or magical; it is necessary.

1. W. Tozer wrote:

 

The presence of God is not imaginary; neither is prayer the indulgence or a delightful fancy. The objects that engage the praying man’s attention, while not material, are nevertheless completely real; more certainly real, it will at last be admitted, than any earthy object.A.W. Tozer, (2013) Knowledge of the Holy (Zeeland, MI: Reformed Church Publications. 2013) eBook.

 

When I make something new, God is present in it. What I paint, pen, or otherwise craft, I am praying over, meditating through, contemplating before the Lord with words that have no sound. The process requires a faithful, ongoing refocus on what is in front of me and what I am putting before God. This is practice that isn’t perfect, but it is glorious.

Experiences with God’s transcendent glory build wonder, and wonder triggers longing. Held long enough, longing drives the desire that creates something. And then, wonder is born anew. Unhindered, the cycle begins anew. Habits are formed, helping us flow in the kingdom message we carry. Whatever yours may be, whatever your medium, establish desire-driven habits that support your purpose.

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07.  Living in the Muscle

“Knowledge is just a rumor until it lives in the muscle.”Brown, Rising Strong This old tribal proverb expresses the essence of why we all need space in our spiritual lives for creativity. For us to live a life of faith, we need time to reflect and absorb what is going on, what we have heard, and what we feel is essential. It is a matter of being with God in his truth. Our “muscle” is our soul. Until what you and I know of Jesus “lives in our muscle,” it isn’t part of who we really are. When it does, we not only learn that we’ve become stronger, but we also discover that we’ve become more real.

Kingdom bringers must hunger for this reality. Only an insatiable, intelligent, and creative pursuit of God will work the “rumors” of knowledge into the muscle of my being. It becomes part of my fiber when I craft what I know into life.

Shortly after the end of WWII, author of Alternative to Futility Elton Trueblood wrote:

 

The way in which a humble yet leavening fellowship may be created and guided is a question of the utmost difficulty, as it is a question of the utmost importance. . . . Wisdom in this field, like wisdom in any important field, can come only by a combination of careful intelligence and imagination. It is this to which we should now give our nights and days, and to which we shall give our nights and days, if we care greatly about the fate of the human race at this juncture.Elton Trueblood , “A Radical Experiment,” William Penn Lecture, 1947. http://www.quaker.org/pamphlets/wpl1947p.html (accessed 21 February 2023).

 

When authentically imaginative and intelligent people gather around Jesus, true, world-changing community—the missing circle—can form.

 

Integrating the Art of Your Soul

 

Because it is a sacred process, creativity can help us uncover and recover truths of our faith. God, our great Restorer, signs the original art that is taking place in our souls. When we learn to live this way, we become like brushes in his hand. The Word drenches the bristles of our everyday senses with a whole-minded, whole-hearted familiarity. Then, this artful life of ours moves beyond just sustainable to take on the character of abundance. I have more than enough and all that I need.See Psalm 23. The overflow of this artful life becomes our creative source.

And you have all you need to begin. In case you need any further encouragement, here are some ideas for how to artfully integrate your art and soul:

Breathe in some quiet. Start by breathing for just two to three minutes. First out; then in. Slowly. Let it become like God in your lungs. Yahweh. Make room for your soul to catch up with your body.

Then, begin a time of silence. Simply be. In our distracted, overly connected world, silence is an honest invitation to interact with the Holy Spirit. Without this practice, we won’t have a clear sense of our deep needs. Start with fifteen to thirty minutes. Notice what you physically feel in your body. Write down anything you sense God saying or leading in your Spirit. Other than that, no music, no Bible, no books, no interruptions. Be still.

Interact with gratitude. Make it a practice to praise whatever is noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent.See Philippians 4:8. This practice serves to reestablish God’s goodness in your mind and re-create well-being in your soul. As I become aware of God’s nearness, it becomes easier to create. Try “interactive gratitude,” in which we add the extra step of listening to impressions of God’s response to our thanksgiving. Make note.

Be present. Taking in life moment by moment requires a pace that allows presence with what is going on. Simplicity, peace, and truth abide in the rarity of people who are honestly present.

A commonly taught “rule” of painting is to paint what you see, not what you know. When you want to spiritually engage, really look with all your senses. It will help you capture the colors that are vibrating because of a certain time of day, or the interesting shadows that lead your eye through an image, for instance. You will learn things like what green “smells” like. In that moment, what is being said is this: be here, now. This is where the magic happens.

Just imagine. Try lingering in meditation over a verse that speaks to you by drawing it in your journal or even right there on the pages of your Bible. Since “the whole earth is full of his glory” (Isaiah 6:3, NIV), spend time outside. Imagine any given circumstance or object as God sees it. Be mindful of what God draws your attention toward. Almost without fail, there is something in my yard that the Holy Spirit uses as his object lesson. Today, for instance, I watched my ridiculous but sincere golden retriever puzzle and paw at the impossible possibility of getting an indestructible toy-inside-a-toy to come out. Sitting there, I imagined how I might be like him: What is it that I have been playing with that has turned to pawing, barking, and looking to others for help change things that aren’t meant to be changed?

Often stored-up verses dance with images, like when the shifting morning light speaks to reminding me “the Lord’s mercies . . . are new every morning” (Lamentations 3:22–23, KJVScriptures marked (KJV) are from the King James Version of the Bible and is in the public domain in most of the world.); his joy has come again; “This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24, NLT).

Create. Turn what you’ve discovered above into fodder for your art. Follow-ing these rhythms connects me to God, attunes me to others, and helps me reflect on my own heart and mind. Knowledge gets a chance to become wisdom. When all God says is done, this leaves me with an inspiration to create around. As I do, I meditate on what God has revealed, and my efforts are “worked out in the muscle.”

With good reason, I make. I have found my circle, and I am inviting others in. God stokes the creative fire; I warm my soul. Each day, each year, each season— broken or whole—the experiences that crackle and glisten translate from my burning heart into works of art. Joy is sparked, and I am transformed.