and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Digging into the archives today . . . I wrote this post last winter.
As I was mulling over why I desire the act of making, inventing or producing something, this post came to mind.
So I offer this post as an offering of praise to our Creator:
As you survey all the materials within your reach, your artist’s eye alights upon dirt—the very medium for growth.
And then you exclaim, “This will do. Yes, indeed. I see it. I will form man out of nothing, yet something.”
In your mercy you choose dust-soil-earth to become the seedbed of humanity. You gather up handfuls mixing it with water—maybe even your own sweat and blood. Wiping sweat from your brow you form the man you imagined. In your work did you pick up a stick to sculpt the features of his face? No, I see you taking this lump of clay into your hands deliberately shaping a body, a forehead, an ear, eyes and a nose.
You are plying your finishing touches, when you take a moment to step back to observe your progress on his face—and a smile breaks across your own. You add a mouth with two lips desiring that he be able to form words just like you. You bend over his form kissing his lips with the breath of life.
Did Adam cough and shudder awake? Did his eyes flutter open, seeing for the first time, the One who sees him—and did he smile back? You reach out your hand lifting him from the ground, the very soil that became his essence—mixed with water and imbued with life giving oxygen. You introduce him to your world.
Later you would see that he needed companionship. You would invite him to recline on that same ground, to reach into his side to create a suitable companion—to eat bread with, to amble and admire the garden together and to commune with their Maker.
Did you add the same mixture of soil and water to that rib? Was the rib a structure to build, to sculpt and to shape this next being around—a female image bearer? I imagine that your desire to make another human hinges on the joy and satisfaction you experienced in making the first. Similar, but different.
This comes with a womb. Did you knit together her inner person before forming the body around this cradle of civilization? A being that would be able to produce fruit—not like a tree, but in a mysterious, soul-drenched way. In her womb would combine blood, water and soil cells.
Another soul born out of two. A new way of conceiving life. Their bodies designed to become one in the most intimate, delicate and creative act.
An act of love.