"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him was not any thing made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." - John 1:1-5 (ESV)
Welcome to our new Faith for Writers journey together. As we launch this weekly Bible study series, I want us to start at the very beginning—not just of our study, but of everything that ever was, is, or will be. We're starting with the most profound truth about creativity that exists: God is the ultimate Creator and Storyteller, and we are made in His image.
The Word Who Creates Worlds
When John opens his Gospel with "In the beginning was the Word," he's doing something revolutionary. He's connecting the creative power of God to the Person of Jesus Christ. The Greek term he uses for "Word" is Logos, which doesn't just mean a single word but encompasses the entire concept of communication, reason, and creative expression.
Think about what this means for us as writers: Before there were galaxies spinning in space, before there were oceans or mountains or the first blade of grass, there was the Word. And this Word wasn't just speaking creation into existence—this Word was creation's source, its author, its storyteller.
God didn't need a blank page or a canvas. He didn't need to overcome writer's block or fight through creative resistance. He spoke, and worlds came into being. "Let there be light," and photons danced for the first time. "Let the waters gather," and oceans found their boundaries. Every act of creation was an act of divine storytelling.
The Power of Words to Create Worlds
As writers, we understand something profound about the power of words. We know that the right sentence can transport a reader to another realm. We know that dialogue can breathe life into characters who feel more real than our neighbors. We know that a well-crafted scene can make someone laugh, cry, or sit in stunned silence at 2 AM, unable to put down our book.
But do we truly grasp the sacred nature of what we're doing?
When we write, we're participating in the fundamental creative act of the universe. We're using the same power that God used to speak existence into being—the power of the word. Obviously, we're not creating ex nihilo (out of nothing) like God did, but we are creating something from our imagination, our experiences, and the raw materials of language.
Every time you craft a sentence, you're echoing the creative voice that said, "Let there be light." Every time you build a fictional world, you're participating in the same creative impulse that designed the laws of physics and the migration patterns of butterflies. Every time you give life to a character, you're reflecting the God who "breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being" (Genesis 2:7).
This isn't just beautiful poetry—it's the foundational truth of our creative calling.
Our Calling to Speak Life Through Stories
John tells us that "in him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind." This life-giving power of the Word didn't stop at creation. It continues through us, His image-bearers, His sub-creators.
But here's where things get both wonderful and weighty. We have a choice in how we use this word-creating power. We can speak life or death, light or darkness, and hope or despair into our readers' hearts.
I think about this every time I sit down to write. Am I adding to the light in the world, or am I increasing the darkness? Am I creating stories that breathe life into weary souls, or am I contributing to the cynicism and despair that already saturates our culture?
This doesn't mean our stories must be unrealistically positive or avoid difficult topics. The Bible itself is full of complex, challenging narratives. David's adultery and murder. Job's devastating losses. The disciples' constant failures. Esther's life-threatening courage. These are not sanitized "Sunday school" stories—they're raw, human, complicated, and real.
But notice what these biblical narratives do. Even in the darkest moments, they point toward hope. Even when describing human failure, they reveal divine faithfulness. Even when exploring suffering, they hint at ultimate redemption. They speak truth about brokenness while holding fast to the promise of restoration.
This is our calling as faith-based creatives: to tell stories that acknowledge the darkness while refusing to let it have the final word.
The Creative DNA in Our Souls
When Genesis tells us we're made "in the image of God," it's not just talking about our moral capacity or our ability to reason. It's talking about our creative nature. The God who imagined and spoke galaxies into existence has placed that same creative DNA in our souls.
This is why we can't help but create. It's why a melody gets stuck in your head and demands to be written down. It's why a "what if" question sparks a story that won't let you sleep. It's why we see a sunset and reach for words to capture what can't really be captured, or why we feel compelled to arrange words on a page until they sing.
We create because we are like our Creator.
But here's what I've learned in my own creative journey: this divine creative calling doesn't exempt us from struggle. Even God's creation involved work—six days of intentional, purposeful effort. The passage doesn't say He thought the world into existence effortlessly; it says He spoke, formed, separated, and made. Creation required divine energy and attention.
How much more should we expect our creative work to require effort, persistence, and sometimes wrestling through difficult seasons?
The Darkness Has Not Overcome It
John's Gospel gives us a promise that I cling to during every creative drought, every rejection, every moment when I wonder if my words matter: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."
The word translated "overcome" here is katalambano—it can mean "to overcome," but it can also mean "to understand" or "to grasp." The darkness has neither understood nor overpowered the light.
Friend, this is true for your creative work too. The darkness in this world—the cynicism, the despair, the voices that say art doesn't matter or that your stories are too small to change anything—this darkness cannot overcome the light that God has placed in your creative calling.
Your words matter. Your stories matter. Your creative work is not a hobby or a side project or something you'll get to "someday when life settles down." It's part of how you reflect the image of the Creator God who spoke worlds into existence.
The same Word who created everything that is, who became flesh and dwelt among us, who conquered death itself—that Word lives in you and wants to create through you.
Living as Sub-Creators
C.S. Lewis used the term "sub-creators" to describe what we are as artists made in God's image. We don't create from nothing, but we take the raw materials God has given us—language, imagination, life experience, human emotion—and we craft them into something new.
This is both a tremendous privilege and a weighty responsibility. We're not just entertaining people (though entertainment has value). We're not just expressing ourselves (though self-expression has its place). We're participating in the ongoing creative work of God in the world.
When we write stories that reveal truth about the human condition, we're echoing the God who "knows what we are made of" and "remembers that we are dust" (Psalm 103:14). When we create characters who struggle and grow and find redemption, we're reflecting the God who "works all things together for good" (Romans 8:28). When we craft narratives that point toward hope beyond present circumstances, we're proclaiming the Gospel truth that this broken world is not the end of the story.
Where Do We Go From Here?
As we begin this journey together, I want you to sit with this truth: You are a creative being made in the image of the ultimate Creator. The same God who spoke light into darkness has placed creative light in you. Your words have power because they flow from the same source as the Word who created everything.
This week, I want to challenge you to pay attention to how you're using that word-creating power. Are your stories—whether fiction or the story you tell yourself about your creative calling—speaking life or death? Are they adding to the light in the world or increasing the darkness?
And when the creative work gets hard (because it will), remember John's promise: The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. Your creative calling is part of that light, and nothing can ultimately defeat it.
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