A Little Announcement: Fairy Light!

As part of my own create and play rhythms over the past few years, I have spent a lot of time writing and drawing. You may know that I have written and illustrated two children's books, though I don't talk about them much at this point because I'm a bit embarrassed by the illustrations.

To my surprise, after spending years playing at being creative, I've actually been able to improve my artistic skills! (I talk a lot about how this, to me, shows the abundance of God's goodness: that I can play at art, simply for the joy of creating, and somehow my art actually improves along the way.)

So when I decided to revisit a project that I had started more than five years ago, imagine my surprise when it felt easier to illustrate! I started adding pieces that were missing and reworking pictures I had once considered finished. Things that had felt difficult years ago suddenly felt a little more possible. (I love that about creativity. We don't always know what is happening as we play and practice and try new things. Sometimes the fruit of that play doesn't become visible until much later.)

Well, I'm so excited to announce that my newest children's picture book, Fairy Light, has moved into the publishing phase and will be available to order soon!

From the back of the book:

Lucy wants more than anything to shine like the other fairies. But as she travels through the fairy village, noticing beauty and speaking kindness wherever she goes, she discovers that perhaps she's been shining all along.

A gentle story about kindness, noticing beauty, and the light we bring to the world.

I think there's something in Lucy's story for all of us. We can spend so much time wondering whether we have something special to offer, when perhaps we are already sharing something beautiful simply by being who God made us to be.

I'm so excited to share this story with you, and I hope that you and the children in your life will be encouraged by Lucy.

Fairy Light is a fully illustrated hardcover picture book for children ages 3–8, and it's scheduled for release on December 1!

I'll be sharing more about the book, including where you can order a copy, very soon. Thank you for being part of this little creative journey with me!

I don’t have time for that! (I don’t think that’s for me, part 2)

On rest, play, and letting go of productivity

This post is part of “I Don't Think That's for Me,” a series exploring some of the things I hear people say about creativity, prayer, silence, and spiritual direction. Sometimes the assumptions we make about ourselves keep us from experiencing the good gifts God has for us. In this series, I'm taking a closer look at some of those assumptions and offering a different way to think about them. My hope is that you'll find a little more freedom to notice, wonder, play, and make space for God in your life.

“I don't have time to be creative.”

Remember my definition of creativity from Part 1?

Creativity is our response to God's world through noticing, wondering, exploring, and making.

When we think about creativity this way, it becomes much easier to see how it can fit into our everyday lives. Creativity doesn't have to mean setting aside an afternoon to paint or work on a project. It can be noticing something beautiful on a walk, wondering about something you've read, trying a new recipe, or finding a new way to solve a problem.

You might already be more creative than you realize!

And I would gently encourage you to make room for creativity in your life, even in small ways. Not because it's another thing you should be doing, but because noticing, wondering, exploring, and making help us engage more fully with the world God has given us.

“I'm too busy to slow down.”

I think sometimes this is a matter of priorities. We all find ways to take a break, but often those breaks look more like escaping than actually resting. (And I am the greatest culprit!)

There's nothing necessarily wrong with watching television or scrolling through your phone, but I know that sometimes I turn to those things because I don't want to think or feel or pay attention to anything at all.

And there's a difference between escaping our lives for a little while and making space to be present in them.

If slowing down feels impossible, start small. Maybe you spend a few minutes in silence once a week. Maybe you set aside an afternoon once a month to do something creative. Or maybe you schedule a spiritual direction appointment! Sometimes having that time on the calendar, especially with another person, helps us protect it.

The goal isn't to add another obligation to your life. It's to make a little room to receive what God might have for you. (See my blog post on Making Space as Surrender)

“I feel guilty taking time for myself.”

This is a big one, whether we say it consciously or not.

In a world that values productivity, busyness, and even stress, slowing down to do something restful or playful can feel wrong. Countercultural, even!

But God has modeled rest for us. He didn't create us to be endlessly productive. He created us for relationship with him, with one another, and with the world he made. Rest and play aren't rewards we earn after we've accomplished enough. They're good gifts we're allowed to receive.

And maybe that's what makes rest so difficult sometimes. We have to let go of the idea that our time is only valuable when we're accomplishing something.

The next time you feel guilty for resting, I wonder if you could pause and ask yourself why? What makes you feel that you need to earn your rest? And what might God want you to know about that?

Remember that you don't have to justify that time by making it useful. You are allowed to enjoy the gifts God has given you simply because they are good.

But I'm Not Creative! (I Don't Think That's for Me, Part 1)

On creativity, art, and being made in God's image

This post is part of “I Don't Think That's for Me,” a series exploring some of the things I hear people say about creativity, prayer, silence, and spiritual direction. Sometimes the assumptions we make about ourselves keep us from experiencing the good gifts God has for us. In this series, I'm taking a closer look at some of those assumptions and offering a different way to think about them. My hope is that you'll find a little more freedom to notice, wonder, play, and make space for God in your life.

“I'm not creative.”

I would argue that everyone is creative because we are made in the image of a creative God! Often, I think what people really mean is that they aren't artistic. (And I might argue further that perhaps you just aren't particularly interested in being artistic, and that's okay, too!)

Here's how I define creativity:

Creativity is our response to God's world through noticing, wondering, exploring, and making.

Think about that for a minute. Do you notice things? Do you wonder about them? Do you explore new ideas, try new things, or find different ways of doing something? Do you make things, whether that's a meal, a garden, a story, or a solution to a problem?

Of course you do! We all do these things because we're human, made in the image of a creative God.

You don't have to be an artist to be creative. You already are!

“I don't like crafts, so I won't like your retreats.”

My retreats are less about the project and more about the prayer that goes along with it. Yes, we'll do an art project or a craft (depending on the retreat), but we're not trying to make something beautiful. We're allowing ourselves to enjoy the process, experiment a little, and take time to notice what God might be saying to us.

The creative activity gives us something to do with our hands while we slow down and pay attention. Sometimes it helps us notice things we might otherwise overlook. Sometimes it brings up frustration or resistance. Sometimes it's simply enjoyable!

And all of that can become part of our conversation with God.

You don't have to love crafts or be good at art to participate. You just have to be willing to show up and see what happens.

“I don't want to make ugly art.”

I get that, because making ugly art feels pointless. But that's kind of the point!

It's a reminder that we don't have to be beautiful, make beautiful things, or accomplish anything impressive in order for God to love us. His delight in us isn't based on our usefulness to him!

But here's the wonderful thing about how God made us: when we give ourselves the freedom to make ugly art, we often end up making beautiful art, too! As we play and experiment and create without worrying about the outcome, we naturally begin to grow in skill. What a generous gift from a creative God!

Of course, making beautiful art isn't the goal. The freedom to create without accomplishing anything is valuable all on its own. But I love that God made us in such a way that even as we simply enjoy the process, we can grow and learn along the way.

(And I might argue, what is beautiful art, anyway? Maybe there's beauty in the process itself!)

breath prayer for making space

How will I make space for God?

Just remember that the question isn't really What spiritual things will I accomplish this month?

It's closer to: Where can I stop striving? How might I turn toward the God who is already here?

Inhale: You are already here.

Exhale: I surrender to your presence.

Making space isn't how I get myself to God. It's surrendering to the God who is already here.

Not all spiritual formation looks serious.

This is a carousel I shared on Instagram, but I felt like it deserved a place on my blog. So instead of trying to write a blog post based on a series of pictures, I did the efficient (lazy?) thing and just posted those pictures here.

Caption: I feel like I should be making videos for Instagram so I can prove it's just me here behind the scenes but I really don't want to start doing that! So I thought I'd start doing some carousels of some of the play in my life. All of these ways of playing form us, and it is a good God who forms us just as much through play as through study and contemplation and prayer. I will say that often my play actually does turn to contemplation because I am moved from play to joy to praise (and I would argue that all that IS prayer!)! That is why I will keep talking about contemplative play on here. I am in awe of a God who would allow me to find him in play, who gives me joy even in grief and hard days.

retreats & spiritual direction

I’ve been doing a lot of arts and crafts retreats recently, and I love them so much. They bring together two things I love: arts and crafts, and talking about, and simply being with, Jesus. And I’m finding that they can be a really gentle introduction to contemplation, especially for people who might feel a little intimidated by spiritual direction.

These retreats do have some spiritual direction woven into them. We sit together in silence and listen for God. We share what’s on our hearts and what we’re noticing. We don’t try to solve problems, for ourselves or for one another. We simply offer each other our presence.

But retreats and spiritual direction aren’t quite the same thing.

A retreat gives you a place to slow down, play, make something, and notice what might be stirring in you. Spiritual direction gives you more space to stay with those things—to wonder about them with someone who is listening alongside you, and to pay attention over time to what God might be doing in your life.

I would hate for someone to discover that they love this kind of contemplative space at a retreat and think that means they don’t need spiritual direction. If anything, I hope the retreats might make spiritual direction feel a little less mysterious or intimidating.

So I guess what I’m saying is: you should do both. 😊

what if play is part of how we know God?

I’ve been talking lately about the relationship between play and creativity. I talk about creativity a lot. I love to paint and color and write. I lead creative retreats and share creative prompts. But even though it might seem like it, creativity isn’t really the center of what I do. Play is. More specifically, contemplative play. I think creativity is one expression of play, but play is much bigger than creativity.

And I think playfulness matters more to our life with God than we sometimes realize. Christians put a lot of emphasis on the intellectual side of faith. We study Scripture, read books, listen to sermons, and learn theology. All of those things are good, and I certainly don’t want to dismiss them. But sometimes I wonder if we have quietly decided that these are the serious ways of knowing God.

Play can seem frivolous by comparison, maybe even a little childish and silly. Except Jesus keeps pointing us toward children.

He tells his disciples that the kingdom of God belongs to people who receive it like a child. And I don’t think that means children have nothing to learn. It means there is something about the posture of a child that grown-ups desperately need.

Children wonder, imagine, and don’t think twice about receiving and needing. They delight in simple things. They ask questions without always needing immediate answers. They can become completely absorbed in something simply because it is interesting or beautiful or fun.

What if some of that belongs in our life with God, too?

Look at the world God made. It is not merely functional; it is extravagant! There are thousands of kinds of flowers and beetles and birds. There are ridiculous-looking animals and enormous mountains and tiny mushrooms. There are colors and textures and tastes and sounds that don't seem necessary for our survival at all. Creation gives us plenty of reason to believe that God values delight!

And Jesus himself doesn't seem interested only in filling people's minds with correct information. He tells stories, asks questions, notices flowers and birds, celebrates at weddings and provides meals. He welcomes children who the adults apparently think are interrupting something more important.

Maybe growing in faith isn't only about knowing more. Maybe sometimes it is about becoming more receptive, curious, playful, and delighted. More willing to wonder and receive the kingdom as a gift instead of something we can master.

That is part of what I mean by contemplative play.

Contemplation invites us to pay attention, to slow down, notice and receive what is already here. Play brings curiosity, imagination, freedom and delight to that attention. Sometimes contemplative play looks like painting or coloring. Sometimes it looks like wondering about a Bible story using imaginative prayer, without rushing toward the "right" answer. Sometimes it looks like walking outside, noticing something strange, making something just because you want to, laughing, experimenting, or sitting quietly enough to see what catches your attention.

None of this replaces Scripture or theology or learning, but I wonder if it helps us know God in another way. Because God is not an idea to understand. He is a person to know and love. And maybe our intellect is only one of the ways we were made to know him.

We were also given bodies and senses, imagination, curiosity, and laughter. The ability to make and explore and wonder and delight. Those aren't distractions from a serious spiritual life. I think they are part of it that we too often forget.

Maybe Jesus' invitation to become like children isn't an invitation to know less, maybe it's an invitation to receive and play more.

And that’s why I use creativity so often. Creativity gives us a way to practice this kind of play, to experiment, wonder, notice, imagine, and make something without needing to know exactly where we’re going. So I paint and color and write. I lead creative retreats and share creative prompts. Not because I think everyone needs to become more creative, but because making things gives us a way to play. And in that play, maybe we can become a little more like children: curious, receptive, delighted, and open to what God might want to give us.

You don’t have to be artistic to be playful.

Making Space as Surrender

I've been wrestling with the phrase make space for God. I don't want my spiritual practices to become another list of things I should be doing. I don't want to imagine that if I pray enough, sit in silence long enough, or pay close enough attention, I can somehow make God show up. Because God is already here.

So perhaps making space isn't really about creating something at all. Maybe making space is an act of surrender. It's releasing my need to make something happen. Releasing the pressure to have a meaningful experience with God. Releasing even my attempts to notice God particularly well.

Instead, I can rest in what is already true: God is present. God is acting. God is holding me.

And from that place of surrender, I can make actual, embodied space in my life. I can put down my phone. Sit in silence. Pick up a paintbrush. Take a walk. Pray. Wonder. Pay attention. Not because these things bring God closer, but because I am learning to orient my life toward the God who is already close.

That's the part of making space I don't want to lose. The space is my actual life—my house, my body, my work, my relationships, my neighborhood, my time. I want all of it to be increasingly oriented around God.

But that orientation begins with surrender, not effort. So maybe I can keep asking myself each month, How will I make space for God? As long as I remember that the question isn't really What spiritual things will I accomplish this month?

It's closer to: Where can I stop striving? How might I turn toward the God who is already here?

And maybe before I make any plans at all, I can breathe:

Inhale: You are already here.

Exhale: I surrender to your presence.

Making space isn't how I get myself to God. It's surrendering to the God who is already here.

What Does It Mean to “Make Space for God”?

At the beginning of every month, I talk about how we can make space for God. I appreciate that practice because it helps me center myself before God and realign my priorities. It brings my attention back to what God is already doing.

But to be honest, I'm getting so I don't even like the term make space. Sometimes it sounds like something we do in our own strength, almost as if we can manufacture God's presence. If I can just be quiet enough, pray enough, slow down enough, pay enough attention...then maybe I'll experience God. And when something becomes dependent on our own effort, we inevitably feel guilty when we fail.

Making space becomes another spiritual achievement.

Every month, I like to set an intention and ask, How will I make space for God this month? I still think there is something good about that question. But I can't stay there too long without reminding myself of what comes first:

God is already here. God is already acting. God is already holding me.

Silence, creativity, spiritual direction, wondering, prayer—none of these practices produce God's presence. They aren't techniques for getting ourselves into the right state so God can reach us. They're ways of turning toward a reality that precedes our effort.

And maybe even more importantly: I don't have to successfully make space for God for God to be present.

I don't have to have a beautiful quiet time. I don't have to feel particularly spiritual. I don't even have to be particularly good at paying attention. God isn't waiting on the other side of my successful spiritual practice. He's already here.

So I'm still wrestling with what I mean when I say make space for God. Maybe I don't need to stop saying it. Maybe I just need to understand it differently.

are you creative? take this test and see!

Take this test to find out if you are creative (even if you think you know the answer already!):

‍ ‍

1. Have you noticed something lately that made you stop and pay attention?
   A sunset, an interesting building, a funny-shaped mushroom, a song, someone's words, a really good color?

2. Have you wondered about something just because you were curious?
   How something works? Why something is the way it is? What would happen if…?

3. Have you explored something recently?
   A trail, a new recipe, a new idea, a different way home, a book, a hobby?

4. Have you responded to something you've noticed?
   Taken a picture, told someone about it, looked it up, written it down, changed something, tried something?

5. Have you ever made something?
   Dinner counts. So does a garden, a spreadsheet, a Lego tower, a doodle, a plan, a playlist, a solution to a problem, or an actual piece of art.

6. Are you human?

Results:
If you answered yes to even a few of these (and especially that last one), congratulations: you're creative.

Because creativity isn't the same thing as being artistic. Creativity is our response to God's world through noticing, wondering, exploring, and making.

does attention really matter?

I firmly believe that our ordinary human lives can glorify God. He created us to live and glorify him, so the ordinary things that are part of our human calling—breathing, sleeping, eating—are not separate from a life that glorifies God. I also believe that our work, play, and rest can glorify God. They are extensions of our human callings, part of God’s vision for his creation that He gave us in the garden. Even people who don’t know God are still his beautiful creations, bearing his image as they live and breathe and work and play and rest.

We have a park and a good sledding hill across the street from us. Sometimes in winter I watch teenagers sled down that hill and laugh and laugh and I know in that moment God is delighted in them. I can feel it as I watch and laugh even just to myself. God is delighted that those teenagers are engaging with his creation in such a free and pure way.

This is why sometimes I tell people to just make art for play or make it ugly on purpose. Just let yourself be, without even thinking, just enjoy yourself! This, too, can be part of a life that glorifies God. We don’t have to turn it into something “spiritual” first.

So why do I talk about “contemplative play” so much, if we don’t have to turn every moment into a spiritual practice?Well, the fact of the matter is, God is so good and so loving that as we live our ordinary lives, He also invites us to know Him and love Him more and more. This is where the contemplative part comes in. If we take a moment in the play, in the work, in the rest, to notice what is going on inside, to surrender to God in that moment, to ask him for help, to praise him, in all of it saying, “this, too, is for you, God,” then we are working on a perspective shift, growing in our inmost lives and fostering a deeper love for Him in everything.

There is so much talk about self-reflection, and that is good and worth doing. But as Christians, our self-reflection should be more focused on Jesus, and as we reflect on Him, He reveals more and more of who we are.

When I was a teenager, I wrote in my journals something like the following:

I’ve noticed that when I am closer to Jesus and keeping my eyes on him, I feel more and more like myself. It doesn’t make sense, but it makes me think that somehow we were created to be more fully ourselves when Jesus is at the center.

I have never forgotten this. This is the point of the contemplative life: keeping Jesus at the center. And He is so good that He, in turn, makes us more and more of our true selves. That is the abundant life that He promises: to live fully as the people He created us to be. This is what I’m talking about when I say where we place our attention matters.

When we do surrender, our attention slowly begins to shift. This is where those good spiritual practices come in. We begin to make space in new ways, and over time we find ourselves noticing God’s abundance where we couldn’t see it before. Life may not have changed, but our eyes are more open to His presence, goodness, beauty, and love. (attention, surrender, and the life we have)

So don’t feel guilty when you are happy, or when you are playing, or when you are working and you aren’t always thinking about God. We won’t keep our conscious minds on God all the time, and it isn’t a failing; it is part of being human. (Isn’t this so freeing?) But do take time to do the good spiritual practices, do the examens, schedule spiritual direction, take a moment to make space, do some breath prayers through the day. Not because these practices make the rest of your life more holy, but because they help turn your attention toward the God who is already there. The attention matters because God is good enough to want us to grow in our love for him, and He will help us along the way.

Are you creative? Take this test to find out!

I absolutely adore non-traditional creative endeavors, like this troll made from all-natural materials by Thomas Dambo (finally got to see one in person recently!).

Take this test to find out if you are creative (even if you think you know the answer already!):

1. Have you noticed something lately that made you stop and pay attention?
   A sunset, an interesting building, a funny-shaped mushroom, a song, someone's words, a really good color?

2. Have you wondered about something just because you were curious?
   How something works? Why something is the way it is? What would happen if…?

3. Have you explored something recently?
   A trail, a new recipe, a new idea, a different way home, a book, a hobby?

4. Have you responded to something you've noticed?
   Taken a picture, told someone about it, looked it up, written it down, changed something, tried something?

5. Have you ever made something?
   Dinner counts. So does a garden, a spreadsheet, a Lego tower, a doodle, a plan, a playlist, a solution to a problem, or an actual piece of art.

6. Are you human?

Results:
If you answered yes to even a few of these (and especially that last one), congratulations: you're creative.

Because creativity isn't the same thing as being artistic. Creativity is our response to God's world through noticing, wondering, exploring, and making. It is part of who we are as humans. Maybe it’s time to embrace your creative calling...

Arts and Crafts: a fun way to make space

That’s a wrap on my summer Prayer Craft retreats!

It has been such a joy to use my love of arts and crafts to help people make space for God in their lives. (Seriously, someone pinch me!) And what a good God, that He wants to meet us in the fun and silly things of life, too.

So keep making space for arts and crafts. Let them help you slow down and notice God: His beauty, His goodness, and what He is doing in you. Let yourself sit in His delight in you. Listen for the good and true names He calls you.

There are more retreats to come, including two two-hour retreats this fall. But for now, I’ll leave you with the prayer that ended our time together today:

God, thank you for this little bit of time to play together and with you. Thank you for meeting us in hard things and also in fun things.

Help us carry a little of this spaciousness with us when we leave. And help us keep noticing the small ways you meet us in the middle of our ordinary lives.

Amen.

clearing the table: making space as hospitality

When I think of making space, I think of clearing the table before dinner.

If your house is anything like ours, the dining room table quickly fills up with crafts, homework, tools, or even plates from the night before. It's also the staging area for things we mean to take downstairs, return to someone, or pack for a trip. Somehow, it is always full.

But every evening, before we sit down to eat, we clear it. We put some things where they belong. We move other things aside. Sometimes we simply decide that a project can wait until tomorrow.

We don't clear the table because we just love empty tables (though we do!). We clear it because we're making room for something better. Clearing the table becomes an act of hospitality. We make space so we can rest, share a meal, laugh, listen, and simply be together.

Making space with God feels much the same. Our lives naturally fill up with responsibilities, good opportunities, unfinished projects, worries, and distractions. None of those things are necessarily bad. But every so often, we need to look at the "table" of our lives and ask what really belongs there right now and what can be set aside, even for a little while.

Making space is an act of hospitality. It's making room to notice God's presence. It's making room to receive instead of always producing. It's making room for the people we love, and for our own souls to rest. Making space isn't about creating an empty life. It's about making room for a relationship.

So what is sitting on your table today? What could be put away, moved to the side, or simply left until tomorrow, so there is room to sit with God, even for a few precious minutes?

What actually happens in spiritual direction?

What if you had an hour where no one tried to fix you, but simply helped you notice God?

I often get asked what actually happens in spiritual direction. It’s a wonderful question because spiritual direction is one of those things that’s difficult to explain until you’ve experienced it for yourself.

So instead of trying to capture the whole experience in words, here are a few things that make spiritual direction unique:

1. There’s no advice.

This is often the biggest surprise. My role isn’t to tell you what to do or help you solve a problem. Instead, I help you notice God’s presence in your life and listen more deeply for God's invitation.

2. Everything comes back to your relationship with God.

You can bring anything into spiritual direction, work, relationships, grief, joy, questions, or doubt. Whatever we talk about, we keep asking: Where is God in this? What might God be inviting you to notice?

3. Silence is part of the conversation.

We don't rush to fill every quiet moment. Silence isn't awkward; it's sacred. Together we make room to listen, not just to one another, but to the Holy Spirit.

4. You don't have to perform.

You don't need a polished story, a clear goal, or even the right words. You can come tired, hopeful, confused, joyful, numb, or grieving. You simply bring your honest self.

5. It's slow on purpose.

Our world values quick answers and constant productivity. Spiritual direction invites you to slow down, pay attention, and trust that God often works gently over time.

6. The Holy Spirit is the true director.

I'm not the expert on your relationship with God. I simply walk alongside you, trusting that God is already at work and helping you notice what may already be unfolding.

7. People often leave feeling lighter.

Not because everything has been fixed, but because they've remembered what is true: they are seen, deeply loved, and never alone. Sometimes that reminder changes everything.

Ultimately, spiritual direction isn't about fixing your life or finding all the answers. It's about noticing where God is present, how He may be inviting you to responhow deeply you are loved.

If you've ever been curious about spiritual direction, I'd love to answer your questions. It is one of the gentlest, most life-giving practices I know, and it's a privilege to hold this kind of sacred space with others.

maybe you are creative…

Roughly every month, I share the story of someone who creates and plays as a way of joining God in His creative nature. Sometimes it's an artist. Sometimes it's someone making something with their hands. Other times it's someone finding joy in a hobby or simply paying attention to the world around them.

Then I usually ask people on Instagram how they create and play.

Or I'll share one of my watercolors or a craft I'm working on, and almost without fail, someone responds with the same sentence:

"I wish I were creative." Or some version of that sentiment.

Usually I tell them they probably mean they aren't artistic. Those aren't the same thing. Because truthfully, I believe everyone is creative in some way. (I also happen to think natural talent is a bit overrated. Most people simply become good at the things they enjoy doing and practice over time.)

So last month I decided it was time to introduce a new definition of creativity. Technically, creativity means having the ability to create. But what if we expanded our understanding of what it means to create? What if creativity wasn't only about producing art or making something beautiful? What if it was more about the way we engage with the world?

The more I've thought about it, the more I think creativity is a kind of call and response.

First, we receive.

We notice something that moves us, or a problem that needs solving, or an idea we can't stop thinking about.

Then we respond.

Maybe we paint it. Maybe we build something. Maybe we ask another question. Maybe we plant a garden, bake bread, learn calligraphy, or simply stop long enough to wonder.

Creativity begins with paying attention.

It starts by receiving the world as a gift and responding to it with curiosity, imagination, and care. That's why I don't think creativity is only for artists.

The more I've thought about it, the more I've landed on this definition:

Creativity is our response to God's world through noticing, wondering, exploring, and making.

When we define creativity this way, suddenly so many more people get to participate! Maybe that's what creativity has always been: not creating from nothing (that belongs to God alone) but responding to what He has already made. Maybe creativity isn't reserved for a gifted few. Maybe it's simply part of what it means to be human.

A Simple Examen

As you end your day, spend a few quiet minutes with Jesus.

• Jesus, what did You invite me to notice today?

• What filled me with wonder?

• Where did I explore or discover something new?

• How did I respond to the gifts You placed in front of me?

• What did I make, build, or contribute today?

• Where did I sense Your delight as I created or played?

• What am I most grateful for today?

Perhaps you've been more creative than you realized.

The Tower of Pentecost

The godly play story for Pentecost has some powerful imagery. I used the story a couple weeks ago in Sunday school for 3 boys (it was a light Sunday), two boys age 8, one boy aged 12. The story starts with building blocks (this felt appropriate for 3 boys!) and as I was speaking, I was building a tower. But the tower is a bit precarious!

There was once a great tower. Everyone working on the tower spoke the same language and worked together. But as the tower grew taller and taller, they began to talk in different ways. The tower came close to God, but the people forgot why they were building it. They grew so proud of themselves that they began to think they were greater builders than God. Each group thought it was better than any of the others. They stopped working together.

At this point, I placed the final block. The tower wobbled for a moment and then crashed down with a loud clatter.

Soon the tower fell down, so it was called the “Tower of Babel.” The language of the people of the earth was shattered. It broke into splinters. Each one was beautiful, but it was broken.

The story goes on to talk about Jesus and his disciples and his last days on earth and then his ascension. At the end of the story, when we started to talk about the Holy Spirit coming, I decided to add something to the story! I thought it might be fun to show the tower being built again, only this time, the tower is completely stable. So while I spoke, I built it again:

They were so excited that people wondered what was going on. There were people there from many different countries. They spoke many different languages, but everyone could understand what they were saying. Everyone could see that the Twelve had come close to God—and God had come close to them—in a new way.

During that last sentence, I indicated the strong tower, the idea that God had redeemed Babel and through His Holy God made a new way for us to draw close to him and, through the Spirit, to one another.

At the end, when I asked about their favorite parts, one of the boys (who has spent the year telling me how much he doesn’t like godly play) (ok, it was my son) said:

I liked how the tower was unstable when the people tried to reach God in their own strength, but it was stable and strong when the Holy Spirit gave us a new way to be with God.

My friends, I was blown away, and not just because it was my kid! This is the power of story. If I had said to my son, “God gave us a way to meet with God that is so much better than anything we could do in our human strength” it would have had much less impact. My son didn't just repeat something I had told him. He made a connection for himself. The image of the tower stayed with him long enough for him to notice the contrast between Babel and Pentecost. He discovered the meaning rather than being handed an explanation.

Story gives us room to wonder. It lets us enter the mystery instead of rushing to explain it. Sometimes a falling tower can teach more than a hundred carefully chosen words.

So once again I think maybe this is what Jesus meant when he spoke about becoming like children. Children are often less interested in mastering a lesson than in entering it. They are willing to sit with a story, play with it, notice its patterns, and discover meaning for themselves, even a 12-year-old preteen!

As adults, we can be tempted to rush toward explanations. But the spiritual life often grows through attention rather than certainty. Perhaps this week, think about what story, image, or ordinary object might God be using to get your attention? And what might happen if, instead of trying to figure it out right away, you approached it with the curiosity of a child and simply wondered?