RELEASE THE ORDINARY

Somewhere along the way, many people quietly came to believe something about themselves: I’m not creative - or at least not very good at it. It wasn’t usually a loud decision, nor did it happen all at once. It formed slowly, over time, shaped by what they saw, heard, and who they compared themselves to. Perhaps it was a master painter whose work felt untouchable. A musician whose sound seemed effortless and ended with rapturous applause. A creator whose voice carried weight and gained worldwide recognition. Standing next to who or what they perceive as extraordinary, their own desire to create begins to feel small, unimportant—maybe even embarrassing. So they step back. They grow quiet. And eventually, they stop.

But the issue was never a lack of creativity. It was a misunderstanding of what creativity is supposed to be.

This can be especially true for those in the area of Christian ministry. Creativity can be seen as important when it meets the need of a specific ministry goal, or it reaches the masses, but creativity in everyday use or enjoyment can feel like a wasted effort, especially in light of eternity.

We have been taught, both subtly and directly, that creativity must be impressive to have value. That it must stand out, gain attention, or be recognized. It has to win the lost, or promote the gospel. It must, in some way, be extraordinary. And while that idea may inspire a few, it has silenced many more, because most creativity does not begin as extraordinary. It begins quietly and imperfectly. It begins in small, almost unnoticed moments of curiosity and expression and in the simple act of responding to something you see or feel. And often, it begins in joy, without a crowd of witnesses.

The problem is not that people lack creativity. The problem is that they feel disqualified from it because they do not see themselves as exceptional. But creativity was never meant to be reserved for the exceptional. It was never meant to be a performance or a measure of worth. It was meant to be an expression—something natural, something human. It is the way we process what we experience. It is the way we interact with the world around us. It is not about outdoing someone else. It is about responding to what is already present in your life. It's about releasing whatever it is that God has put inside you, as simple it may be.

There is art all around you, already unfolding. It’s in the way light falls across a surface in the morning. In the rhythm of ordinary movement. In the quiet emotions that pass through a day. Creativity is not something you have to manufacture from nothing. Only God creates that way. It is something you notice, something you engage with, something you respond to. But when your attention is fixed on comparison, you lose the ability to see what is right in front of you. You begin to chase outcomes instead of paying attention to origin. You focus on the product instead of the process. And the thing is... products are always replaced with other products, but process transforms us internally and remains.

And this is where the shift must happen.

When you create from comparison, you are always measuring. Always evaluating. Always asking if what you are making is good enough, impressive enough, worthy enough. But when you create from simple joy, something changes. You begin to create from what is real instead of what is expected. You begin to trust what you notice, what you feel, what draws your attention. The question is no longer, "Is this good enough?" but rather, "Is this me, and did I enjoy doing it?"

Creativity, at its core, is not sustained by applause, but by joy. Not every piece you create will be strong. Not every idea will succeed. But success was never the point. The point was engagement and release. The point was expression. The point was connection—to the world, to yourself, and ultimately, to something deeper than both. Joy is what keeps creativity alive. Comparison is what slowly suffocates it.

If you want to begin again, the path is not complicated—but it does require intention. Begin by returning to what is simple and present. If you are a visual artist, draw what is in front of you instead of what you wish you could create. Allow limitations and constraints to guide you—fewer tools, fewer colors—so that pressure begins to loosen its grip. Allow yourself to create something imperfect on purpose, just to rediscover what it feels like to play.

If you are a writer, stop trying to say something profound and instead write something true. Begin with what you noticed today. Let your words come out unrefined, resisting the urge to edit as you go. Allow honesty to take precedence over polish. A great way to do this is to journal whatever comes to mind without editing it later.

If you are a musician, return to simplicity. Play without recording. Create without the need to keep or share. Explore what can be formed from just a few chords, letting limitation become a doorway instead of a restriction.

If you are someone with a camera, shift your focus away from capturing something impressive and toward noticing something ordinary. Eplore angles, light, shadow, repetition. Take multiple images of the same subject, not to perfect it, but to see it differently. Learn from it. Allow these moments to exist without the need to share them.

And even if you do not consider yourself an artist at all, begin with something small. Create for ten minutes and then stop. Choose not to share everything you make. Notice something ordinary and simply respond to it. No pressure. No performance. Just participation.

The truth is, you were never meant to compete with someone else’s expression. You were meant to uncover your own.

There is a version of creativity inside of you that does not exist anywhere else. It does not need to be louder. It does not need to be better. It does not need to be extraordinary. It only needs to be yours. And it needs to be released.

And if you still struggle with the ordinary, remember this: God was ok with creating the dandelion - an ordinary and overlooked weed that is here today and gone tomorrow. Perhaps what His definition of extraordinary is different than ours.

- Casey