Created to Create

The other night I rode home from work and was exhausted... emotionally, physically and especially socially. I have been realizing that although I haven't always been like this, I thrive on my alone time. I haven't had much lately so when I came home to my roommate leaving for the evening I was thrilled. I did my usual routine: dinner, facebook, shower. Then what? I started to get anxious when I was faced with myself. It was maybe 8:00 and I had exhausted all my busybody tasks. Half-dressed, I stood in the middle of my living room and gazed around at the empty spots on the walls, the furniture and the pieces of art already hanging. My mind began to race and I couldn't help but dart into my bedroom to my antique trunk full of art treasures. A couple years ago when I was renting a room from my brother, I went garage saleing in a rainstorm and stumbled upon this ancient piece of joy. I remember the feeling it gave me as I stuffed it in the back of my Mini Cooper and drove home with my back door up for the world to see my new delight for only $35. There were newspapers in the bottom of the trunk with 1929 dates on them! My brother definitely did not understand why, in my financial state, I chose this as a wise investment. I wish he could've seen the look on my face as I rummaged through the bins of fabric scraps, paint cans, shattered glass chips and decorative paper. This rush of energy hit me; this sense of adventure and fresh discovery that seems ridiculous now that I type it out. The next couple of hours were spent transforming a fruit crate into a new kitchen spice rack, adding splashes of life to the painted peacock on the livingroom canvas, and cutting out letters one-by-one to create a mural of truth on my kitchen wall. I had a paint smear on my cheek and a cordless drill in my hand. Piles of buttons, nails and ribbons were scattered on my kitchen counters.

One of the most intoxicating feelings is when I'm in the stages of falling in love and every little thing the other person does is an object of my complete adoration. It's the way his lips form a half right-sided smile when I grab his hand and how his head moves up and down everytime he plays that one song on his guitar. The mannerisms that create a rollercoaster of emotions in my heart and butterflies in my stomach would never be noticed by the average onlooker.

As I fluttered around from room to room allowing my hands to express my heart, I was overtaken by a sweet presence. A presence that made me realize that I was the object of that intoxicating adoration. At this point, I was still barely clothed. Let's not get distracted by this in a sexual or akward sense. I share that because there is absolute significance in the freedom I felt as I was creating. I felt that I was being looked at and at that moment was capturing One's heart in the rawest and rarest of forms. I could hear the Lord whisper, "I am overwhelmed by the beauty in the way your eyes squint when you are on the verge of a creative idea. The way your hair curls to it's very end and how your arms flow to create streaks of art on the canvas." Although to the average onlooker, I would've just been a frantic amateur artist and decorator who needed to put some clothes on, my Father was captured by me.

Then it hit me. The Creator is delighted when his creations walk in what they were created to do. This glorifies the Maker. If I created something and it functions in the way I created it to, fulfilling the purpose with which I created it, I would be pleased and proud. This is what was happening that unexpected night in my apartment. I was created to create. Beautiful meals out of elements of nature, a piece of art on a canvas and even to the extent of children one day. Creating is what makes me feel alive. When I function in that, my maker is pleased and glorified. It is not I who dream up ideas and express them, but it is ultimately my Creator.