In season three of the History Channel show Alone, contestant Zachary Fowler kept his hands and mind busy by creating all sorts of unique items saying, “I’m a maker; that’s just who I am.” After watching, my oldest daughter took to saying proudly, after a difficult diagnosis, “I may have celiac, but God made me a maker!” To which we have replied, “Yes, my girl, he has!”
Having traversed the globe liberally in the last twenty years and made six different living situations into homes in my married life, I can attest to the beauty of leaning into this aspect of God’s image in us as makers.
Perhaps you will not identify yourself as a maker quite as boldly as my daughter. Maybe you are never going to create something that you feel is praiseworthy. But if you are a woman who has had to live in this world, you have undoubtedly had opportunities to create. Be it food for the dinner table or a head covering from a piece of fabric, chances are you have needed to lean into this part of your identity as an image bearer of God.
Embracing my identity as a maker has helped me find roots in many seasons and places.
Here are a few reflections:
As makers, we root deeper into the situations in which God has placed us. If you are anything like me, moving can be a tumultuous experience. At its worst, a severing, an uprooting, a grief; at best, a new beginning, a fresh page. But with that first nail into the wall, that first picture hung or lamp switched on, my heart begins the process of settling again, of rooting into a new season, a new situation, a new home.
In each of our locations, I have found the process of making that studio flat or garage apartment or campus house into a home deeply rewarding. After all, this is where we will live out our days together for a season of life. This is where the loving and living, the lamenting and praising, the grieving and forgiving will happen. This is where God will continue his good work in us. This is where we become more like Christ: in this space, in this place, in this season.
In each of these situations, leaning into my identity as a maker has helped my heart root anew. There have been seasons of quilting (the rental during seminary), seasons of fermenting (the little downtown flat), and seasons of candle-making and sourdough (our campus home). Living on different continents, there is great joy and challenge in making our house into a home that reflects the people among whom we live. Taiwanese calligraphy on our walls and South African shweshwe into pillows and table runners, photos of waters we have seen and cities we have loved—all of these tell the story of where we have been and reflect the beauty of where we are now. This is all part of the process, of making a home, of helping our hearts root, of being at peace with where God has us now.
When we engage our hands and hearts in the process of making a new space into a home, we root ourselves and those who live with us into a place we call home.
As makers, we root deeper into relationships. Who of us can overlook the very first line of Scripture, in which God says, “Let us create”? Our very first introduction to our God is as a creator, a maker, and someone in relationship. He, in that mysterious and stunning reality of the Trinity, created the universe in relationship with himself. In a reflecting kind of way, leaning into our identity as makers can root us into relationships as well.
Some of my favorite, deepest memories of my grandma are those of working alongside her in creating something . . . a dress, a cake, a rose garden. I observe how my daughters build layers of relationships with their grandparents in the projects they work on together. There is something beautiful about working together in the act of creating.
For those of us who have lived in cultures outside of our own, haven’t we bonded with new neighbors over cooking that pot of curry or pap or new food we had never even heard of a few months prior? Some of my best experiences in relationship building in different cultures have come through asking for a cooking lesson.
Just as we image God through our creative nature, we reflect the beauty of the Trinity when we link arms with others in our making, and in the process, find profound meaning in our relationships.
The good, creative work of our hands, hearts, and heads can lead us toward deepening roots in our current situation and in our current relationships. And ultimately, if we let it, our identity as makers can root us deeper into fellowship with Christ. We bear the image of Christ, God’s agent in creation, who formed light in darkness and then came as the Light of the World. We image him when our hands form food to feed those in need, as he fed thousands of hungry people. We reflect his beauty when we create beauty in our homes, our gardens, and our hearts. In fixing our eyes on Christ in all that we make and do, our hearts will root deeper into him—our Creator, Sustainer, and the ultimate source of beauty and goodness.
So let your hands and hearts run free in your creative pursuits. Your roots will deepen in the process.
What has taken root in you in the process of creating? How has being a “maker” deepened your relationship with God or others?
Beautiful encouraging post Beth, thank you. Having moved (again) a few months ago I am nesting with a vengeance around lots of other commitments, and it’s something I’ve been reflecting on that we are called to create.. and that making a space cozy or beautiful (or both) is something that I find is super important to me. “Creating the culture” for our family and for hosting others in our space is important and I’m trying to give affirmation to that desperate pull in me to “create beauty” out of our box of a home rather than fight it!