Ten Tent Pegs 5: Creativity

For much of the early part of my adult life I had no idea who I was, or what was expected of me. A perfectionist, I judged myself harshly. A diary entry, written in my twenties and discovered in a box in the attic some years ago, reads: “I fail as a daughter; I fail as a wife; I fail as a mother; I fail as a friend; and I fail as a Christian.” Whilst this could be said to be true of anyone - because we all fall short of perfection - for me it summed up not only my low self-esteem, but an awareness of the complete absence of purpose in my life at that time, and the bewilderment and frustration that this caused me.

“Could do better,” summed up my school reports. Better than what, or whom, I wondered? And what did I have to do, to do better?

To some extent, this is the cry of all human beings. We have only to look at a baby’s first smile to understand the human need to engage and to grow; a toddler’s look of pride when mastering his first steps; or a small girl’s cry of “Look at me, daddy!” when she sets off for the first time, unsupported, on her fairy bike. This need to find our talents and grow our vision of how they might be used to good effect, appears to be instinctive.

And given the right circumstances, I suspect that it should continue to be so throughout life. Indeed, a study by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology showed that the surprising truth about what drives us to produce our best endeavours is not a carrot and stick approach, but autonomy, mastery and purpose. In other words, the very attributes with which we’ve been provided: free will; gifts or talent; and a command to love one another. As the previous paragraph shows, from infancy on, we want the freedom (autonomy) to discover our gifts, to master them, to put them to good purpose.

Some do, of course. We read about the achievements of Florence Nightingale – a social reformer and the founder of modern nursing; William Wilberforce – a British politician who abolished slavery; Lord Shaftesbury – a philanthropist and social reformer; and Mother Theresa – who served the poor and the sick, and we are inspired. We strive to emulate their vision. Or perhaps it’s a vision of bringing beauty and the arts to the world that excites us? We dream of becoming another Margot Fonteyn (a dancer), John Constable (an artist), Edwin Lutyens (an architect) or Alfred Lord Tennyson (a poet). We yearn to be the next Susan Boyle, Alan Sugar, or Barack Obama.

For everyone who dreams a dream, however, there are others who give up and drop out. The very people who have been shown to be inspirational to one section of society may intimidate others. In the mistaken belief that we have first to be a Someone – rich, famous, ultra-intelligent, or super-spiritual – to fulfil a dream, we may find ourselves inhibited.

Non-constructive criticism like that of my school reports may take its toll. Or perhaps we’ve been actively discouraged from thinking that we have any potential; we’ve been told we’re “thick”, “ugly” or “a waste of space”.

It may be that we’ve found it easier to subscribe to a collective oblivion, drowning out the clamouring voices of aspiration in a cocktail of drink, drugs and sex. More likely, we’ve simply accepted the status quo of nihilism or mediocrity, and closed our hearts and minds to anything bigger.

Yet, niggling somewhere in the unconscious mind, an innate sense of drive and purpose may refuse to lie dormant. Like a thorn in the side, it torments us. Like an unsatisfied appetite, it gnaws at our inner peace.

This was me. For decades. Until one day I realised that throughout the time I had been waiting for some big vision to reveal itself, something writ large in the sky to tell me what I should be doing with my life, it had, actually, been there all along. Not as a major cinematic vision. But as a series of micro images of the minutia of life. I believe they were the still, small voice of God. And put together, they enlarged my vision, gave me a sense of my gifts, purpose and the conviction that I could be used. I found my inner peace.

It was when, decades ago, having written to a friend about the way in which I was shunned in church because of my divorce, that she told me I had to write a book, telling others of my trauma. The Tug of Two Loves, the story of my faith in God versus the adulterous behaviour of my husband, was followed by Divorced But Not Defeated. I received letters, via my publishers, from all over the world, thanking me for my honesty in revealing how God had helped me through difficult times. Numerous other books followed, two of which became bestsellers.

When I’ve spoken to friends about the discovery of my God-given gift, however, it appears that they have not.

“I wish I could be sure that what I’m doing is what I’m meant to be doing,” said one.

“I haven’t a clue what my gifts are,” said another. “How can you discover your niche?”

The fact is that it's no good any of us saying that we're not creative, or that we don't have a gift. God is a CREATOR God, and he’s made us in his image.

I remember once hearing a sermon on how, no matter what, we should be thankful for our parents because they were the ones God gave us. Despite all their human failings, I have so much for which to thank mine. My father’s intellectual interests gave him a love of books which he passed onto me by reading to me when I was little, stories like Oscar Wilde’s Selfish Giant. He would then discuss the moral implications with me, and thus developed in me a love of ideas and debate.

My mother was the disciplinarian in our home and, through the frequent and strategic application of a well-worn slipper to my bottom, she distilled in me the importance of self-discipline: a trait I think I might otherwise have lacked. Without that, I doubt that any of my visions would have come to fruition.

Her practical nature meant that she banished all books to the attic (because as far as she was concerned, they were dust collectors). As a child, I thus spent many happy hours in that attic – daydreaming as she would call it. Alone up there, I began to write. First, stories for my comic School Friend. Then drama. Plays acted out with my cousins in the attic, with the blackout curtains forming a stage, and our audience (our parents) having to pay thrupence each for the privilege of watching us.

As an Introvert and an Intuitive, writing became my focal point: the means by which I could best express myself, and all those insights and possibilities that came out of my character. By the time I was 14, I’d submitted my first story for publication and – having not revealed my age - picked up the first of many rejection slips.

Your creativity may be practical - in cooking, raising a family, and thus becoming a carer? It doesn’t have to be the arts. Think of the scientific and mathematical precision with which God created the world. Bring to mind the pursuits you loved as a child; those at which you excelled; or those at which you wished you had. You may then well find your purpose in life.