Making as Coram Deo

In pondering faithful, God-honouring creativity, we’ve spent time at the beginning—seeing God as Creator, and ourselves as image‑bearers who are made to make in dependence on Him. We saw that creativity is not reserved for the talented few, but is part of our shared human calling. And we saw, in Bezalel and Oholiab, that faithful creativity is not a distraction from obedience—it is obedience, shaped by God’s word and empowered by His Spirit.

Now, we move a step further—not just asking what creativity is, but why it can feel so hard to live this out faithfully.

Because if we’re honest, many of us don’t struggle with the idea of creativity. We struggle with discouragement, comparison, perfectionism, guilt, and disordered desire.

And Scripture gives us language—and hope— for that too.

The Fall and Disordered Desires

Genesis doesn’t end in a garden filled with peace and purpose. Sin enters the story, and with it comes disorder—not only in our relationship with God, but in our desires, our work, and the way we relate to what we make.

After the Fall, human making doesn’t disappear—but it becomes distorted.

We still create. We still work. We still shape and order the world. But now our creativity is bent inward. Our loves become disordered. Instead of loving God most and letting everything else fall into place beneath that love, we begin asking created things to carry weight they were never meant to bear.

Augustine described sin as disordered loves—loving good things too much, or loving lesser things more than God. And that shows up clearly in our creative lives.

Fear, pride, insecurity, comparison, quietly weave themselves into our motivations.

This shows up in familiar ways:

• We compare our work to others and feel small.

• We stop creating because we assume we’re not good enough.

• We hide behind perfectionism, telling ourselves we’re just being careful—when really we’re afraid to fail.

• We feel guilty for enjoying what we make, as though joy itself needs justification.

It was brought to my attention that I’d made an error—specifically, my comment that I wasn’t creative. As a writer, I am a creative. And that small moment exposed how much I still wrestle with the label.

This is what disordered love has looked like in my own life, especially with writing. I’ve watched women I’ve grown up with in writing communities receive book contracts, recognition, and opportunities I longed for—and comparison creeps in quietly. Before I know it, discouragement sets in. I start thinking I’ve been left behind, that I’m not good enough, and that it isn’t worth continuing if it doesn’t lead where I hoped.

And comparison does something subtle: it doesn’t just steal joy—it stops forward movement. It makes faithfulness feel futile.

Perfectionism works similarly. When I’m not immediately good at something, my instinct is often to stop altogether. Remember that art was my lowest grade in school, so I told myself I wasn’t an artist. And I still carry that instinct into other areas—if I can’t do it well right away, I’d rather not do it at all. 

But what I’m learning—slowly—is that perfectionism isn’t really about excellence at all. It’s driven by fear: a fear of being small, unfinished, or ultimately unseen.

Perfectionism says: If I can’t do this perfectly, it won’t be good enough—and neither will I.

And that’s not the voice of faith. And it’s not the freedom Christ offers.

Living Coram Deo: All of Life Before God

This is where the language of coram Deo has been so grounding for me, it has deeply shaped how I understand my life. Coram deo is Latin and means, before the face of God. To live coram Deo means that every moment is lived in God’s presence, under His authority, and for His glory.

Scripture gives us this vision of life:

• “Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?” (Psalm 139:7, ESV)

• The Apostle Paul reminds us in Acts 17:28, “In him we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28, ESV)

• “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus.” (Colossians 3:17, ESV)

There is no category of life that exists outside God’s nearness. No division between sacred and secular, spiritual and practical, faithful and fun.

All of life is lived before Him.

That means our creativity—our writing, sewing, planning, baking, designing—is never neutral. It is always happening in God’s presence.

And this is not meant to be a burden. It is meant to be a relief.

We don’t create to earn God’s approval. We create from it.

The key shift is this: Faithfulness is not about outcomes or recognition—it is about presence and obedience before God.

Redemption in Christ: Re‑Ordering Our Making

The good news of the gospel is not that God abandons human making because it has been distorted—but that He redeems it. In Christ, God does more than forgive our sin; He begins the patient work of re-ordering our loves.

That’s why Scripture can say that if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation—the old has passed away, and the new has come (2 Corinthians 5:17). Jesus frees us from having to prove ourselves through what we make. He releases us from using creativity to secure identity, worth, or belonging. And He restores us to a life of faithful obedience—small step by small step.

Paul goes on to remind us that we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand for us to walk in (Ephesians 2:10). 

Notice the order: we are God’s workmanship before we ever produce any work of our own.

For me, this redemption has looked like learning to write and publish imperfectly. Early on, posting an article wasn’t about excellence or impact—it was about obedience. I did my best, entrusted the outcome to God, and let it go.

Over time, that practice reshaped not only my work, but my heart. It exposed where I was tying my worth to performance. It challenged my assumptions. And it reminded me—again and again—that my identity is secure in Christ, not in comparison or success.

This is what redemption looks like in ordinary creativity:

• showing up even when we feel inadequate

• finishing small things faithfully

• releasing outcomes we can’t control

• receiving joy as a gift, not a reward

God is far more interested in faithfulness than flawlessness.

Enjoyment as a Restored Capacity

Scripture is clear that God did not create a joyless world. He filled it with good gifts to be received with gratitude—because, as Paul reminds us, God richly provides us with everything to enjoy (1 Timothy 6:17).

Enjoyment, then, is not indulgence; it’s a redeemed capacity. To enjoy something good, rightly ordered, is to receive rather than grasp, to give thanks rather than control. Enjoyment teaches us that we are creatures, not creators—recipients, not owners.

That’s why Ecclesiastes can say, there is nothing better than that a person should rejoice in their work, for that is their lot (Ecclesiastes 3:22). When we enjoy the work of our hands in God’s presence, we are not stepping away from obedience—we are practicing trust and nearness to God.

Faithfulness in Small Things: Obedience and Awareness

Faithfulness in small things matters because God is more concerned with who we are becoming than with what we do.

Every act of creativity—every word written, brushstroke painted, or small project completed—is not just about producing something. It is an opportunity to practice faithfulness and obedience to Him.

As Jesus reminds us, “One who is faithful in very little is also faithful in much” (Luke 16:10). Our ordinary acts become opportunities to cultivate character, humility, and trust in God.

Scripture points to the value of diligence and faithfulness, even in the small and unseen. Paul encourages us: “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men” (Colossians 3:23). In other words, every small act of creativity—whether anyone notices it or not—matters to God.

Practically, this means we can approach creative work with awareness and intention:

• Begin your projects by asking God to guide your heart and mind.

• Celebrate small steps rather than waiting for perfection or recognition.

• Notice your own patterns—fear, comparison, or distraction—and offer them to God in prayer.

• Keep creating regularly, trusting that even unseen acts matter to Him.

Each of these acts trains our heart, builds perseverance, and strengthens your creative “muscle.” They are small steps of faithfulness, and God uses them to shape our character, cultivate trust, and glorify Him quietly.

In this way, each act of creativity becomes a practice in faithfulness, a mirror of Christ’s patient, obedient work in us, shaping us to reflect His character more fully in the world.

So today, the invitation is not to do more or to create better.

It is to return to faithful presence before God.

To make in dependence. 

To receive joy without guilt. 

To keep going even when the work feels small or unseen.

Creativity, redeemed in Christ, becomes not a measure of our worth—but a quiet offering of trust.

And that kind of faithfulness, Scripture tells us, is never wasted.