My wife and daughter gave me a record player for Christmas a couple of years ago. I have it in my garage and recently I was listening to “Tones,” the 1986 debut album by ridiculously talented Austin guitar player Eric Johnson, and the thought hit me: there is a theological connection between Eric Johnson, my record collection, God and us.
I currently have 191 albums in my record collection. Most albums probably average 10 songs, but I probably own closer to 2,000 songs considering several are double albums. Every album and every song is different. So many instruments, genres, arrangements, time signatures, key signatures, subjects, lyrics and vocal styles — that’s mind-blowing stuff!
But consider the diversity of visual art, high-end carpentry, custom pottery, glass blowing, leather work, architecture, landscaping, stone masonry, sports car and fashion design — everything. The creative possibilities collectively run to the billions.
A friend of mine, who makes her living being creative, recommended a podcast titled, “The Common Creative.” The first episode is, “What is Creative Energy,” and one of the show’s hosts — a photographer — made the comment, “As a creative, the thought of not creating is alien to me. Maybe the question should be, ‘Why don’t other people create?’ ”
I’ve never liked hearing people self-deprecatingly say, “I don’t have a creative bone in my body.” That’s simply not true. Every human has ability to create something. We are inherently creative because we are created in the image of God who is the ultimate creative.
The issue isn’t that people aren’t creative. They haven’t been creative because it’s not crossed their minds to offer an attempt, they truly believe they aren’t creative, or they haven’t risked being creative because they are too self-conscious and are concerned others might ridicule their creation. I unfortunately believe the latter is often the case because creativity does come with risks.
Some people like me, and the amazingly creative people I work with, make our livings being creative. Our vocations are an extension of our gifting. I believe God gifted us to be creative beyond the general inherent creativity we all receive as an extension of God’s nature. That’s not being braggadocios. People are wired differently and are gifted in ways I am not.
The engaged creatives I know approach creativity with insatiable curiosity and a relentless pursuit of the Holy Grail for their creative discipline. But the thought I had listening to Eric Johnson was, “If God gifted creative people with the essence of creativity, and we don’t create, is that irresponsible, disobedient and dishonoring to God? Aren’t we failing to pursue the glory God created us to bring Him when we neglect the creative gift we’ve been given?”
I believe the same is true for creative people who aren’t Christ-followers. I have no idea how many of the artists whose music I listen to are believers in Jesus, but since all creativity is from God, isn’t it also disobedience for the guitar virtuosos I admire not to acknowledge from where their creative virtuosity came?
But isn’t it also disobedience for the person gifted with a mathematical, scientific, mechanical or any other type of ability to fail in acknowledging God as the author of their ability, and thereby glorifying Him through it?
The Bible says, “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (I Corinthians 10:31). Eating and drinking are among the most mundane activities in our existence. If God’s expectation is that we glorify Him through such inglorious tasks, how much more does He expect us to glorify Him through the spectacular gifts woven through the essence of who we are created to be? Exercising our gifts and pursuing creativity can truly be an act of worship when the expression of our gifts flow from humble hearts that acknowledge God as the author of our abilities.
As I began listening to Side B of Eric Johnson’s album, I also realized that when we express our creativity it is also an opportunity to point others to God’s beauty found in the world around us. But I’ll save that thought for an entirely different column. B&R