By virtue of being made in the image of God, humans
are naturally creative. We love to make things and try out new ideas and
display our skill. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you? Beautiful patterned fabric
when plain colors would be faster and work as well. Walls painted with vibrant
murals instead of perfectly functional whitewash. Music and rhythm that makes
us have to get up and move. What’s the practicality in that?
We may not all have the same idea of beauty, but we
do seek to surround ourselves with what we love. I grew up in the hills of West
Virginia, and though we didn’t have much money, we always had enough to visit
the garden center for begonias and coleuses to plant in pots for the front
steps. My mother spent hours and hours cultivating dahlias that she traded with
friends and neighbors all up and down the dirt road. I have driven by sad
little houses perched on the hillside and noted red geraniums and yellow
marigolds rising out of coffee cans and old cooking pots. These people are saying to anyone who cares
to notice, This is my place, and these
are the things I value.
I have written elsewhere about a time in my life
when I failed to cultivate the beauty that I love, when I let clutter
accumulate, took no interest in decorating, and neglected to hang pictures on
the walls. Looking back, I realize that I was just getting through each day
waiting for my circumstances to change. I was discontented, looking to a day
when I could move someplace else and create the home I wanted.
I was in a meeting with a group of women when the
speaker said something like this: “If you are not happy with your house or your
income, or some other aspect of your life, you are saying to God, ‘You’re not
taking good care of me. You’re a bad provider.’” That statement made an impact
that I obviously remember to this day, and it made an immediate difference in
my attitude. When I accepted that I was in the place God intended for me at
that time, I started to take interest in my surroundings and worked on
beautifying my home, making it mine for whatever time I might be there.
Peter reminds us that believers in Jesus are
“strangers and pilgrims” on earth (I Peter 2:11), and Paul reminds the church
in Philippi that “our citizenship is in heaven” (3:20). But in the meantime, we
live here. As children of God, we can display our gratitude for God’s goodness
by living lives of contentment—certainly not complacency with situations that
need to change—but a settled and satisfied feeling that our God who loves us is
taking good care of us.
Then, out of a heart of joy and appreciation, we can
open up the creative urge within, put there by God, to build, paint, plant,
write, rearrange our environment and reflect God’s image in our surroundings.
