The Sacred Ordinary of Making

Round tables fill the church hall. Extension cords snake along the outer walls, connecting sewing machines, craft lights, and laptops. Women carry in crates and totes of supplies—fabric, puzzles, art projects—setting them out carefully.

It reminds me of Christmas gatherings, when everyone arrives with something in hand. Casserole dishes carried carefully, wrapped gifts stacked in boxes, coats tossed over chairs, games piled in corners.

Perhaps the nostalgia is helped along by the fact that we’re coming in chilled to the bone, noses stinging from the winter cold, glasses fogging as we peel off heavy coats. But more than that, there’s a sense of anticipation—a feeling that something shared and meaningful is about to happen.

When we talked about hosting a women’s hobby retreat at church, we quickly realized that the word hobby would land differently for each of us. We intentionally stayed away from calling it a craft retreat, because creativity is much bigger than crafts. Some hobbies can’t be packed up and carried into a church hall, and not everything we love doing fits neatly on a table.

Our desire wasn’t to label or rank creativity, but to create space—space after the holidays to rest, to enjoy working with our hands, to pull out a project and sit alongside one another for fellowship, and maybe even to learn from each other.

As I watched the room come together, I found myself reflecting on a deeper question: what does it actually mean to be creative?

Rethinking Creativity

I’ll be honest—I’ve never thought of myself as a creative person. I have a fairly straight-and-narrow personality. I’m a bit nerdy in my interests—reading, writing, studying, learning. In school, my lowest grades were always in art. If creativity were measured by drawing ability, my stick people would disqualify me immediately.

So when I think of creative people, I tend to think of those who make beautiful things: the designers on HGTV who transform homes, artists whose work evokes emotion, musicians who play something that reaches deep into the heart—people whose work feels original, impressive, or moving.

That idea is reinforced by how we usually define creativity. A basic dictionary definition says creativity is “the use of imagination or original ideas, especially in the production of an artistic work.”

When I sat with that definition, I realized two things. First, it quietly reserves creativity for a small group of “talented” people. And second, it leaves many of us thinking, well, that’s not me.

I found myself again, asking—is that really the truest meaning of creativity?

At the root of the word creativity is the word create.

If that’s true, then creativity isn’t first about talent or originality—it’s about making.

That leads us to two important questions: Where does creating begin? And who is it really for?

God the Creator

Scripture answers that question immediately: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” (Genesis 1:1)

Before God reveals Himself as holy, loving, merciful, or just—He reveals Himself as Creator.

God creates freely and purposefully. He brings order where there was none. He speaks light into darkness. He forms a world that is structured, beautiful, and good. Colossians 1:16–17 tells us that all things—visible and invisible—were created through Christ and for Him, and that in Him all things hold together.

Creativity doesn’t originate in us—it originates in God.

And that matters, because it means creativity is not a side interest or a personality trait. It is woven into the very fabric of humanity, flowing from the heart of God Himself.

Made in God’s Image

After forming the world—shaping land and seas, filling it with plants and animals—God does something climactic. He creates humanity.

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27)

And again,

“God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.” (Genesis 1:31)

Two things stand out here:

1. We are made in the image of God.

2. God delights in what He has made.

   
   

But what does it actually mean to be made in God’s image?

To bear God’s image means that we are His representatives in the world. We are meant to reflect what He is like—to live in ways that show His character, His goodness, and His care for creation.

We don't share all of God’s attributes. God alone is infinite, all‑knowing, all‑present, and self‑existent. But He shares with us what theologians call His communicable attributes—qualities like love, kindness, mercy, goodness, and care.

And among those shared qualities is the ability to create.

This is why Scripture forbids making images of God out of stone or gold. God has already placed His image in the world—in us, living and breathing, in human beings.

We were never meant to manufacture His likeness; we were meant to bear it.

God has made us thirsty for beauty—and capable of creating it.

Dependant Creativity

Yet, there’s an important distinction here.

God creates out of nothing.

We do not.

Our creativity is always dependent creativity. We work with what God has already given—materials, time, skills, relationships, energy. Even the desire to make something often comes from Him.

Whether it’s cooking a meal, tending a garden, arranging a room, writing a note, or stitching together fabric—our making is always a response to God’s prior making.

We are not original creators; we are re‑creators.

And that dependence is not a weakness—it’s part of our design.

Created with Purpose

Being made in God’s image also means we are created for something.

The New City Catechism puts it this way: God created us male and female in his own image to know him, love him, live with him, and glorify him.

From the very beginning, God calls humanity to steward what He has made—to care for it, develop it, and help it flourish.

When we live faithfully in the world God has placed us in—when we make, tend, nurture, and shape for the good of others—we reflect something true about our Maker.

Think of how creativity blesses people:

• A song that comforts a weary heart

• A quilt that warms a body and reminds someone they are loved

• A well‑prepared meal that gathers people around a table

• A thoughtfully arranged space that feels peaceful and welcoming

These acts are not small or insignificant.

When we create in dependence on God, for His glory and for the good of others, we are doing something deeply human—and deeply God-honoring.

The Tension We Feel as Women

If all of this is true—if we are made in the image of a creative God, if creating is part of our human calling—then an honest question follows:

Why does creativity feel so complicated sometimes?

For many women, creativity doesn’t feel free or joyful. It feels loaded.

We may carry an unspoken tension: the desire to make, enjoy, or create—and the quiet voice that says we shouldn’t.

Because there is always something else that could be done.

Laundry to fold. Meals to plan. Emails to answer. Children or grandchildren to care for. A home to manage. A list that never truly ends.

So when the idea of sitting down to paint, sew, or build something for no particular reason comes up, another thought follows quickly:

Is this a good use of my time?

Is this selfish?

Shouldn’t I be doing something more productive?

Many of us have learned—sometimes explicitly, sometimes quietly—that rest must be earned and enjoyment must be justified.

And creativity, especially the kind that doesn’t produce income or meet an obvious need, can start to feel like a luxury rather than a calling.

But Scripture does not frame human life as nonstop usefulness.

God Himself rests.

After creating, God pauses. Not because He is tired, but because rest is part of the rhythm He establishes for His image-bearers. Rest is not a reward for finishing everything—it is a gift woven into creation.

And yet, many of us struggle to receive it.

There’s also a deeper tension. Some of us have been hurt or discouraged when it comes to creativity. Maybe you were told you weren’t good at it. Maybe your efforts were dismissed or compared. Maybe life became so full of responsibility that the parts of you that enjoyed making were slowly crowded out.

Over time, creativity can begin to feel childish, impractical, or even spiritually suspect.

But that is not how God speaks about making.

In Scripture, the problem is never that people create—it’s what they create for and who they trust. The same hands that can shape beauty can also shape idols. The issue is not creativity itself, but its direction.

And that’s important, because it means the answer to our tension is not to stop creating—but to return to creating in dependence on God.

Creativity is not meant to compete with faithfulness. It is meant to be shaped by it.

When creativity is rooted in the glory of God and the good of others, it becomes a way of loving Him and loving those around us.

So we gather around tables, visiting, encouraging each other, learning new things. There’s laughter, snacks and the noisy hum of conversation. I’m watching miniature buildings take shape, a pair of Converse adorned with embroidered designs, a new journal being bound and covered, photobooks designed to preserve memories.

It’s a humbling and wonderful picture of fellowship, community and beauty. And it’s just like I thought, a place where something special is happening.