Communal Creativity

Part 1: Discovering Purpose

This is part 1 of a mini series inspired by a conversation we had during one of our recent AP team meetings. We discovered some powerful truths about creating in godly community as we unpacked what we can’t create alone. We hope these articles inspire you to consider how Jesus might be inviting you to practice communal creativity.

Community is a big buzzword these days. Whether it’s your gym, Chipotle, or detergent brand of choice, it seems everywhere you go, you’re asked to join a “community”. The overuse in marketing threatens to render the word meaningless. Yet underneath it all, a deep hunger for genuine connection and relationship remains. It’s how we’re wired. Every social media account we follow, newsletter we subscribe to, or rewards program we join points to this eternal truth.

A major reason we started Abiding Practice is the desire to create together. While most art forms lend themselves naturally to solitary work, we’ve found that something special happens when we collaborate. Ideas can flow and co-mingle, joy becomes a shared commodity, and boldness is unleashed to follow our creative calling.

We’re convinced this is no coincidence. It’s our Creator’s design. But it’s become buried and inaccessible for many of us in our individualistic culture. The longing for communal creativity still exists, but we must reawaken it once again. We must allow the Spirit to reveal the wisdom that’s been woven into humanity. The divine mark of community He’s given us. Perhaps you, like us, are curious to know what God envisions for our creativity. And maybe you’re just starting to believe that it’s more than you could have asked or imagined…

What’s not good about being alone?

I’m an introvert through and through. On a scale of a “cozy night in” to a “five hour frat party”, most of the time I’d go with having a few friends over and saying goodbye when my social battery starts to drain. I come from a tight-knit family, and have grown to value a handful of deep connections over a scattering of loose acquaintances. And I love a good Saturday morning of uninterrupted painting time. That’s the best.

So sometimes when I come to the part of the creation story where God says, “It is not good for man to be alone” (Gen 2:18), I half-jokingly ask, What’s not good? Don’t get me wrong, I love being with people. I’m so grateful for those who’ve shaped me throughout my life. And it’s a gift to be part of a group where you feel like you belong.

Yet, I can’t help but think of the times I’ve felt like an outsider. When I’ve shared my feelings and imaginative mind with others only to be misunderstood. It’s the times when my creative nature has been dismissed or ridiculed that I question if being alone is really all that bad.

It seems safer to keep my creativity to myself. To post my art online with a screen between me and everyone else. And to never let the weird and wackiest bits of my creative journey be seen at all. Yes, sometimes I question what’s not good about creating alone.

Swept up in the mosh pit

Now, I’m not saying that making art by yourself is wrong. We all need to work towards our 10,000 hours. Many of them will probably be spent in our rooms, schools or studios; writing poems, strumming guitars, and practicing pirouettes that we’d rather the world not witness just yet. But, I’m finding that this way of creating isn’t the full picture of what God intended.

If our creativity reflects our Creator, the way we create is meant to mirror Him too.

I recently heard a sermon at my church about the Trinity that stuck with me. Not only did it refreshingly incorporate some art and poetry, but the pastor painted an image of God that I don’t think we ponder enough. He described the Trinity as the Divine dance, highlighting the dynamic movement of Love found in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I’ve heard the concept tossed around in contemplative circles before, so I was already nodding along. Then he took it a step further, proposing this dance is less like a balletic pas de trois and more like a mosh pit.

I’ve never participated in a mosh pit. I’m not that cool. But as he explained himself a bit more, it made a strange amount of sense to me. Imperfect as the metaphor may be, it captures the raw joy and contagious energy of a group of people that sucks you in and draws you up to this heightened state of connection—even if just for a moment.

Our triune God is obviously so much purer and holier than what happens in a mosh pit, but there’s something about this vision that makes me curious to know if union with Him feels anything remotely like it. And if He designed us in His image and invited us to create like Him, I can only imagine the kind of vibrant creative community He wants us to experience too.

After all, God wasn’t satisfied giving Adam the ability to imagine and build things alone, He made Eve to create alongside him.

Bezalel wasn’t the only one

Having a creative skill can shape our identities in all sorts of ways. It can become a badge of honor or a cloak of shame. Sometimes we feel like the outsider or weirdo who has to hide their otherness. Other times we can feel unique and special, like we are set apart or somehow above others.

These ideas can subtly shape our hearts and beliefs. If we’re not careful, our creative identity can lead us into greater isolation as we try to prove our worth to the world.

The more I’ve explored creativity in the Bible, I’ve realized community always comes along with it. Perhaps it’s a guardrail given to us by the Lord. As an example, look at the story of Israel constructing the Tabernacle:

“Then the Lord said to Moses, “See, I have chosen Bezalel son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills—to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood, and to engage in all kinds of crafts. Moreover, I have appointed Oholiab son of Ahisamak, of the tribe of Dan, to help him…” Exodus 31:1-6a

In the past, I’ve marveled at Bezalel.

He was chosen as the first person to be filled with the Holy Spirit, and for the purpose of creating no less. If we want proof God cares about Spirit-filled creativity, this is it. But the spirit of individualism trained me to focus more on what God was doing in the person than the group. I fixated specifically on Bezalel’s significance in the story, on his unique and valuable role in building God’s dwelling place. Then I re-read the end of verse 6…

“Moreover, I have appointed Oholiab son of Ahisamak, of the tribe of Dan, to help him. Also I have given ability to all the skilled workers to make everything I have commanded you”

Bezalel wasn’t the only one anointed for divine creative work that day. Yes, he was called out of the crowd by God for a special purpose, but so were others. Oholiab and many craftsmen were also filled with the Spirit for the same assignment. God knew Bezalel couldn’t do this work by himself and that it would probably crush him with pride if he did.

The Tabernacle, a communal space to meet with God, was going to be built by a community.

Connection formed through contribution

This vision for communal creativity wasn’t meant to be for the tribe of Israel alone. It’s God’s vision for our creativity today. Every artist filled with His Spirit, coming together to create something for His glory.

Not all of us will be called to create explicitly “Christian” art or to create within the local church. But I wonder what might happen if we began to practice our creativity in a more collective way. To look beyond our individual works and discover the bigger projects that God intended a community make.

What windows of encountering God’s presence could we open for each other as we create together?

When I think of the times I’ve created alone with God, I can certainly see some beautiful fruit. Yet I also could point to the moments that left me longing for something more. Just as Adam’s creativity was incomplete without Eve by his side, my creative work has often felt insignificant and aimless when practiced alone.

Though creating with other people poses unique challenges, I’ve discovered so much more joy and purpose that makes it worth it. Whether it was performing a group dance in ballet recitals growing up, or brainstorming this article with the AP team, there’s a type of creativity that is unleashed through community that I can only describe as divine.

And my Creator calls that good.