The Artist

I've had several conversations with friends about the creative nature of our being. To the world's eyes, logically, it is inexplicable that creativity should be a factor, let alone a focus, of human existence. Yet, as we've learned, it is inarguable that the desire to create is woven into our being just as essentially as the necessity to survive.

This point has been accentuated recently for me by such simple pastimes as leisure reading. Ironically enough, the book in question is from the Harry Potter series. I've noticed that, as I read, I find myself in increasing fascination of the minute complexities, which neatly tie the entire series together by the end.

As I was reading today, I once again had this awe sparked. However, as I've also been trying for a greater measure of diligence at Bible study lately, I found myself comparing my time spent at each. Specifically, I've noticed details in the plot of Harry Potter on this time through (my second reading) which I missed the first time, and they have helped me to draw up and bolster my own ideas about the things toward which Rowling was building. I found it to my slight shame that it was much easier for me to find those connections in this fictional telling of "witches and sorcery" than to pick out profound, relevant thoughts from scripture and apply them to life.

As a side note, I refuse to overthink this too much, for the simple reason that I've read the Harry Potter series more completely than I've read most biblical passages. It therefore stands to reason that more things will stand out to me within the former, especially given that it has a simpler grand design than the scope of all creation, as has the Bible.

Bringing the point back to how we are handcrafted with a creative drive, it only makes sense that we strive toward artisanship with our own crafts, such as writing. Regarding that example, to any piece of writing there is bound to be a certain poetry, beginning as small as words and phrases, but expanding to subplots and, ultimately, the broad compass of the story. We measure the quality of a piece of writing by the author's ability to subtly, yet certainly, convey their message in a way that is aesthetically pleasing; that is, poetically. This often includes seemingly arbitrary details throughout the writing, which are actually hints that make perfect sense in the end.

We focus our art the way we do because we're created by God in His own image; an image not just physical or visual, but one that extends to the very depths of the soul. Though the world ignores it, we as His creations cannot help but strive to be more like Him artistically.

The artistry of telling a story includes conflict and resolution; pain and relief; times of apparent senselessness and of clarity. Every call has an answer; like a rhyme. And in a way, the same can be said of any artistic medium: by its completion, we can see the extent of its beauty, no matter how ugly it may have looked somewhere along the way.

As flawed creatures following the archetype of a Divine Creator, it's obvious that we cannot tell a perfect story, sing a perfect song, or draw a perfect picture. What should be equally obvious is that we also can't see the perfection of God's creation, partly because of the imperfection of our sin, and partly because we've yet to see its full fruition. Therefore, in our daily struggle to find beauty, resolution, and meaning behind the constant suffering and redundant failures of our plans, we need look no further than Christ, who knows (*correction: is) the end and the purpose to it all. As He is the perfect artist, we must trust that His eye is keen to the subtleties as they relate to the finale.