
Creation, creativity, and the connectedness of all things
An exploration through word and image
It’s been a decade since I last walked in an October woods. Here I am at last in the filtered golden light, crunching through the dry leaves in this month that was my childhood favorite.
I have come home to part of myself that was lost.
The wind in the beeches whispers secrets of resurrection. The salamanders under stones show me what it is to surrender to rest. The apple from the orchard across the road reminds me of the interconnectedness of all things: I am not separate. I am part of the ongoing song of creation, begun with a Word millenia ago. This life of mine is one strain of the melody, woven together with the lives of those around me, human and non-human.
My dad is a scientist with the heart of a poet. I am, perhaps, a poet with the curiosity of a scientist. Creation is a book to be read — a book about truth, beauty, death, and life; a book about who God is and who we are, how we are all connected.
For in [Christ] all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible…. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. (Colossians 1:16–17)
Five months ago a friend and mentor asked me if I plan to write another book. My answer was, as usual, an immediate no — I don’t have another book in me. Most people accept that at face value, but Justin pressed for more, asking about what I’ve been thinking about and teaching about this year. The next morning I outlined a whole book in fifteen minutes. Turns out I might have another book in me.
But, I don’t think it’s ready. Writing a book feels natural to me — there’s a reason I’ve written a book but can’t seem to keep up a blog. I like things that feel complete, whole, known. Yet, for much of my adult life, I’ve been called again and again to experimentation, to play, and to risk. I am not drawn to newness for newness’s sake, but I’m beginning to see the value in it. Adventures in creativity have shaped me. I am braver, stronger, more grounded in God’s love for me because I’ve taken the risk to create.
I knew I wanted to write about creativity, and I was tempted to just sit down and write the book I’d outlined that morning. But I’m not ready yet. I need to experiment. I need to play. I need to ask a lot of questions and to listen, both inwardly and outwardly.
A month or two after my conversation with Justin, Stephanie came to visit. We went on a long hike and talked about what this year has been, my year of trust. (The word trust came to me at the new year, though I didn’t yet know why.) We talked about creativity and adventure, about writing and vocation and trauma and fear. That night we stayed up late, a table full of old books and magazines spread before us. We cut and arranged and glued. I ended up with thirteen pages of collage.
In the months since then, I’ve spent time with these collages. I’ve asked friends to speak into them. I know these pieces are, on one level, about creativity and my creative process. They are also about more than that. They are about this ongoing song of creation of which I am part.
An Invitation
I have sat with these collages for a long while, and now it’s time to share them. I invite you to follow along and to join me in an exploration of creativity, creation, and the connectedness of all things.
Over these next weeks, I’ll share this art and these reflections with you.
First, I will share an image — one of the collages from that late night in July. I’ll invite you to consider three things as you view it:
· What do you see?
· Of what are you reminded?
· What do you wonder?
Next, I’ll share my own reflections on that collage, pulled from my journaling over the last few months.
This art is not polished, my reflections on it are incomplete, but I want to invite you in at this stage of my process. I’d like you to be part of my journey of listening deeply.
My hope is to open a conversation. I’d love to hear your reflections here on Medium, or over on Facebook or Instagram.
We will, together, see where this takes us.

