One of an artist’s greatest fears is that their creations will go unseen.

I understand. We can spend countless hours bringing something to life. It’s costly in terms of time and money. I’ve spoken to thousands of creatives about this very topic over the years (see The Drawer). Yet while it can be a real fear, it isn’t the reality that we want to embrace.

We long for everything to be perfect— in our lives and our art. But this side of heaven, things won’t be perfect. And that’s okay.

The Creator of everything—from  light, stars, and ocean to forest, plants, and animals—didn’t create alone. We see the presence of the Spirit in Genesis 1:2 and we know that everything was created through and for Christ and that he holds all creation together (Colossians 1:16-18).

We long for God to create with and through us. That’s a good desire. But in the excitement for that to happen, we can focus on the canvas or screen and miss what God wants to create first. Not something in front of us, but something within us. 

At the start of a new year, anything seems possible. So we make our plans, knowing we have 365 days to make it happen.

When you get down to it, only two things really matter.  

Love God.  

Love others. 

It often feels like there’s not enough time in our day—or left in our life—to do what needs to be done. First, recognize that the prior sentence is a “doing” statement. And yes, while things need to get done, remember being always comes before doing. And this sense of “not enough time”? Do you really think the Creator of time won’t give you time for what he’s stirred you to do? Sure, it may look different than you imagined it would. But you can’t be running behind when you are running with God. When you find the Creator of time, you find time. With God, you really do have all the time in the world.

You can do a lot. But you can’t do it all.

What kind of life do you want—a safe, predictable one or a story filled with mystery that forces you to lean into God? Which do you think will transform you into a person of depth and wisdom? Which life will people remember and talk about around campfires a hundred years from now?

Today, we celebrate the birth of Jesus. The name Immanuel means God with us.  And he remains with us, every moment of every day. 

Before a new journey can truly begin anew, there must be an end to the status quo. We must leave the camp of the comfortable and venture into the uncertainties of the unknown.

The antidote to being an orphan and doing life “without God” is simple. It is to do life—all of life—“with God.” I’m convinced nothing is more important. That is why Mia’s final vial is labeled Together .

I have a big truck. My best memories in it are from years ago, when my son Chase was young.  

Rather than giving us a formula for success, God instead gives us himself. Formulas don’t require God’s presence. Worse, they offer the illusion of control in place of intimacy and dependence on a wild, unpredictable, playful, non-formulaic Creator.

Imagine creating something with God that is beyond your wildest dreams. You can’t wait to show others. To launch it. To watch it accelerate as the world discovers it. And then God whispers to you, “That was just for the two of us. It’s not something to share. Go ahead and put it in the drawer rather than post it online.”

This may be one of the hardest truths for an artist to hear, but I’m going to say it anyway.

The ultimate measure of your creativity isn’t success.

There are at least four significant forces that can diminish your God-given identity. It’s good to know them so you can then guard against these toxic lies:  

Your identity is who you are at your core. And how can you be true to God, others, or even yourself before you’ve settled this? That is why Mia’s third vial is labeled Identity.

The next time you think about your creativity, consider the fishermen before they met Jesus in Galilee. They excelled at their craft. Fishing likely brought these men some level of joy, but then Jesus invited them into something truer. In an instant, expert fishermen became “fishers of men.” They traded the foreshadowing of their prior calling for a full measure of what they were born to be. Their truer calling.

When you think back on your Story, what have you always been drawn to? I’m not asking what others say you’re good at. We can be good at doing things that we have little interest in. I’m talking about activities that cause you to lose track of time when you enter into them. What would it look like to experience that joy again, in a fresh new way?