Creative Creed

An Excerpt from Art is how god loves us

I believe there is an Ultimate Reality, a Maker, a Great Spirit, a Giver of Breath, an Artist, that exists outside of gender and has been revealed to me as the triune God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, of Sarah, Hagar, and Rebekah—three in one—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

I believe the spark of Love that set all life in motion lives within me like a secret pilot light, that creation continues through even me.

I believe that when Ultimate Reality breaks through, it is a melody we recognize, that it meets us where we are, in our shame and sadness, in our brokenness or stubborn joy, that it reminds us: We are created to create.

I believe that ART is not defined by special skill or elitist craft, that no human life is excluded from God’s creative love, our Maker’s fingerprints can be found on every creation, and that everyone creating a life is an artist.

I believe in the God who sees like only an artist can, beholding us like van Gogh’s mysterious olive trees. We are found worthy of returning to, again and again. We are made new in every subtle shift of light, in every new season.

I believe in the gifts hidden within the chaos of creation, which by grace we get to order alongside God. We can mend the broken with what we have—even when all we have are LEGO.

I believe that art, and therefore life, is messy; the Holy Spirit is as much wild goose as angelic dove, that every unexpected detour is ripe with creative possibility.

I believe that God speaks through created things—that listening is the work. In the battlefields of life, we can “be still and know,” because, like God did for Brahms, the Giver of Breath sends songs across the valleys, the chasms, of our fear and scarcity.

I believe that when we show up, rugged and imperfect and persistent, weary and wanting, when we reach for the hem of His garment, when we hang on to the threads of our creative callings, we find God hanging on to us—a love that won’t let go.

I believe that creation is an ongoing process. Like Gaudí’s Basílica de la Sagrada Família, God is still working beyond what we may see in our lifetime. God has embedded our Maker’s image within us, like a great architect, who, as C. S. Lewis says, “is building a palace . . . He intends to come and live in it Himself.”[i]

I believe that our Great Composer knows our tune’s truest name. It is the gift to be simple, the gift to be free, to walk from the shadows of our narrow, limited dreams and step into a deeper calling that is about more than only us.

I believe in the power of art to be a burning bush, to remind us that human life should never be consumed or appropriated, but God loving us like only an artist can means our Creator collects our tears in a bottle like precious artifacts.

I believe that it is through creation that our Maker “works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed” (Psalm 103:6) and invites us into the van, to join God’s mission toward wholeness and healing for all.

I believe that God is my clay sculptor, who never stops forming and reforming my heart, drawing me into transformation and sanctification, not in my tidy timeline but in a spiral of “with-ness.”

With God, I believe it is safe to lament, to weep, to be myself as I am made. I choose to be in relationship with my Creator even when I don’t understand God’s silence, even when my questions go unanswered.

I believe that life is a long let-go; I can release everything I cherish into God’s hands. I know that everything I have is God’s. My Maker has loved my loves longer and more completely than I ever could.

I believe that sometimes, in lieu of flowers, God sends a river. Christ is the wisdom of the universe, whispered in the questions of creation; an all-at-once particular and universal gift that makes every sunset personally painted for me.

I believe that when we “Serve the Gift,” God sets about the work of making hearts pure again, bringing a new creation into the here and now. When we are willing to say yes when asked to dance, the Giver of Breath leads us. What Bach wrote in the margin of his Bible is true: “Where there is devotional music, God is present with his grace.”

I have asked, “Am I good enough?” And I’ve heard Jesus answer with a mirth as boundless as creation itself: “I AM.”

I have seen, in the frames of old pictures, God loving me in each moment, sensing God’s presence in both the painful junctures and the brightest flashes of joy.

I believe that God’s word—the histories, poems, and parables of the Bible—reveals our Maker’s character as an Artist writing one epic creation story. Beginning with creation in Genesis and ending with new creation in Revelation, God’s creative power is synonymous with God’s love.

I believe I am a poem my Maker is still writing, created not out of necessity, but love. Not some form of technology designed for production, but a poem whose strength stems from tenderness. I believe that work doesn’t make me free, that love does—that this epoch God is crafting with its twists and turns is our Artist naming this beautiful and terrible human experience holy. Jesus is God loving us with God’s life. He was there at the beginning, our Creator Sets Free.

May you see that this book, this day, this breath, and the next, are God hoping with God’s hands, healing the world God loves so much through the sacred beauty of created things—through ART.

Art is how God loves us, but also how we love.

Therefore, go in peace to make a life, believing you are God’s painting, God’s song, a tender mound of clay, the work of a Creator’s hands, a poem, a unique and beloved masterpiece. The real work of art is the person you are becoming, the person God created you to be in love.

Ordinary things are given meaning because of who they belong to, and you belong to God. You needn’t hide anything about yourself to belong; there is nothing to earn. God made you and loves you like only an artist can.

May the source of all goodness scatter the shadows of your shame.

May every note in the aria that is your life become a Word of God, every work of art you encounter be a love letter from Love itself.

May the Maker of words and worlds remind you when you doubt: Your words matter.

May God give you courage to steal the pencil, to be a flowering onion, to read your name in the Book of Life, to walk on water, to move unfettered among the stars.[ii]

May you allow yourself to shine with the spark of a divine and infinite love, a mirror in a mirror in a mirror . . .

by Merideth Hite Estevez, copyright 2026

[i] “is building a palace . . . He intends to come and live in it Himself”: C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (Touchstone, 1996), 175.

[ii] to walk on water: L’Engle, Walking on Water, 47.