Sarah Sundin, @sarahsundin
Why do you write? Why do any of us write?
Often we give utilitarian answers so we can justify ourselves. We write to proclaim a message. We write to transform lives. We write to support our families (snicker).
Western society has elevated the standard of usefulness. We judge our activities by pragmatic standards—what practical use does that activity provide? Therefore, activities that generate money, build things that others can use, or fill a set purpose are the only activities worthy of our time and effort.
Recently my church women’s ministry started an artists’ group. This group of writers and poets and visual artists and songwriters has met to discuss creativity, and we’re holding an art event where we’ll display and read our works. What a joy it’s been to discuss deep things with these gifted women.
To prepare for our art event, we’ve been reading
Art and Faith: A Theology of Making, by Makoto Fujimura, which I highly recommend. Fujimura builds a case for the importance of creativity in the life of the Christian—a role beyond utilitarian practicalities.
We Write Because We Are Writers
So why do we write? Most of us, when we’re pressed, will admit—in an apologetic voice—that we write because we can’t
not write. The characters and stories won’t be ignored.
We write because we are writers and must write. We create because we must create.
But we often feel guilty about it. What if our stories are never published? Never read by another living soul? Are we wasting our time? Shouldn’t we be doing something “better”? More useful?
Truth in a Flower
I asked myself those questions in earnest in 2005. At that time, I’d been writing for five years and I’d accumulated an impressive pile of rejection letters. My children were young, I had another career (pharmacy) which actually paid money and benefited society, and there I was playing with my imaginary friends in their imaginary world. How selfish of me!
That spring I attended the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference among the California redwoods. No one was interested in my World War II novels. No one.
In despair I took a hike among the redwoods, asking God those questions out loud. Then I noticed a tiny white flower tucked beneath a redwood tree. It was sweet and simple and lovely. Charmed, I knelt down and admired it and thanked God for the gift that comforted me. Had he created that flower just so I would praise him for it? Was I the only human being who would praise God because of that flower?
The thought moved me and touched me. What a personal and loving God we have.
Then I straightened up to standing. The path stood above a valley full of redwoods, all surrounded by beds of similar tiny white flowers. And I imagined the hills rolling off into the distance, all covered by redwoods, all surrounded by beautiful flowers, thousands upon thousands of blossoms.
Most of those flowers would never be seen by human eyes. If seen, how many would be admired? And if admired, how many would lead the admirer to praise God?
Created in God’s Creative Image to Create
Why did God create those flowers if they never led to praise? Were they created in vain? Did God waste His time creating them?
We know the answer. The Lord never does anything in vain.
God is Creator. He is creative. Sometimes He creates for the pure joy of creating.
We human beings have been created in God’s image, and part of that image is creativity, a trait shared by no other species. Sometimes we create for the pure joy of creating.
Creating isn’t useless or wasteful, but part of who God created us to be. Yes, we still need to till the land and change the diapers and do the laborious work of earning money in order to eat. But creativity serves a purpose that mustn’t be shoved aside.
In creating, we can commune with our Creator. In creating, we exercise a trait which makes us uniquely human. In creating, we use the gifts the Lord gave us. Creating brings joy and solace and understanding. Creating brings light into our dark world, beauty into ugliness, hope into despair.
That day in the redwoods, the Lord showed me I wasn’t wasting my time writing but living in obedience to the gift He’d given me. Even if my writing was never seen by another human being. Ever.
That realization sustained me and energized me. Three more years passed before I received a contract, but I never again doubted why I was writing.
We write because we must.
Munich, 1938. Evelyn Brand is an American foreign correspondent determined to prove her worth in a male-dominated profession and to expose the growing tyranny in Nazi Germany. To do so, she must walk a thin line. If she offends the government, she could be expelled from the country—or worse. If she does not report truthfully, she’ll betray the oppressed and fail to wake up the folks back home.
Peter Lang is an American graduate student working on his PhD in German. Disillusioned with the chaos in the world due to the Great Depression, he is impressed with the prosperity and order of German society. But when the brutality of the regime hits close, he discovers a far better way to use his contacts within the Nazi party—to feed information to the shrewd reporter he can’t get off his mind.
As the world marches relentlessly toward war, Evelyn and Peter are on a collision course with destiny.
Sarah Sundin is an ECPA- and CBA-bestselling author of World War II novels, including When Twilight Breaks and Until Leaves Fall in Paris (coming February 2022). Her novels When Twilight Breaks and The Land Beneath Us were Christy Award finalists, The Sky Above Us won the 2020 Carol Award, and When Tides Turn and Through Waters Deep were named to Booklist’s “101 Best Romance Novels of the Last 10 Years.” A mother of three adult children, Sarah lives in northern California and enjoys speaking for church, community, and writers’ groups. She serves as Co-Director for the West Coast Christian Writers Conference. You can find her at http://www.sarahsundin.com
Comments 2
Thanks for the encouragement to just keep writing; to keep creating because through this we acknowledge our giftings from our Heavenly Father.
Thanks, Dee! I’m so glad you enjoyed it.