Script:

In the beginning

God created.

And in our beginning, we created too.

We performed

we played

we made art

and many messes

There was something of a freedom that we shared,

an ability to laugh without fear

We gave ourselves permission to be weird

and make mistakes

So what happened?

When did we grow

self-absorbed by the mirror?

Why do we fear to pick up the pen?

The one the Gardner gave us

to write the names of the animals

to tend His land?

We were designed for Eden:

creativity’s birthplace;

to walk with our Father

to live as co-creators

curious, unafraid

Perhaps it wasn’t fear to pick up the pen

that took us out of the garden

but the distraction of our own desire, twisted

with deception from the liar, displacing

the purpose of the pen

for our own glorification instead

of the divine invitation

we were made for.

Tempter tricks us to sign

our names, taking credit

for what we didn’t make,

marking our making with shame

and we’re all to blame

Perhaps this concern for our power and image

is the lie that left us convinced we were naked

It led us to hiding

to trash our ideas

our plans

Now we don’t play with color, or risks, or with crayons;

We methodize perfection to an unreachable standard

reserved for the few

with the talent

and rather

than leaning on the creativity and

might of our Maker,

we build ourselves towers

to prove ourselves greater

Brick by brick, bending

God’s arm for intervention,

we try to steal glory for what we

never invented

Have we forgotten the language

of love that first made us?

to partner with Him as He authors creation?

We were given a pen, yet

we laugh

in the face

of the fools

and the young

we sit in cubicles, paralyzed

by Babble’s self-deprecating tongue

What we can see

was not made

of what is visible

So nothing we make by ourselves is original

We’re made for reordering

His grace is restoring

and we all play a part in His beautiful story

Perhaps creativity

is not found,

taught,

earned or bought

But its in our very nature

fashioned by our Creator

when we live in His likeness and

reject man-made favor

God came down from glory

to rewrite the story with His

blood, poured out

hyssop ink; He authored

love

buried our debt

rose us up from the dead

making a garden of the grave;

a new dwelling place

the one we were all designed for:

His grace

So why do we keep putting on the old rags?

and wiping our face with ashes?

We sit in our hiding place and tell

our inner child:

“Keep quiet”

Did we not hear Him say,

“Talitha Cumi?”

“My child, arise?”

Perhaps we weren’t just given a pen

but rather, we are one

and he’s begging to use us

to sign his name, to start a new page

and bring kingdom solutions

By His hand

Are we willing to take risks

to look foolish, naive?

Will we not take offense

but choose to believe

we were made for a garden.

We were made for a garden

and I’m beginning to see

He’s building it here

and now

with us

restoring Eden

redeeming creativity

unlocking the children

He made us to be