Order from Chaos

There is a common misconception that God will never give us more than we can handle, but this notion is not entirely supported by Scripture. God never promised that life would be easy or that we would never face overwhelming burdens. Instead, He invites us to give those burdens back to Him. We are called to rely on God, acknowledging that our own resources are insufficient. The weight of life’s burdens can only be lifted through divine support, not human self-sufficiency. This concept of surrender is especially relevant when we consider the nature of creativity. To create is to step into chaos. To create is to bring order from chaos, meaning you must come in contact with chaos. Only through God can we shape chaos into something meaningful and beautiful. Apart from Him, creativity will be destructive. The arts, philosophy, media, and culture are filled with examples of creative works that have led people away from truth, twisting perceptions and glorifying disorder. Creation apart from Christ is not just misguided—it is actively harmful because it reshapes the world in ways that lead people further from God’s design. As stewards of creation, we are not the ultimate creators; God is. We are entrusted with the responsibility to cultivate and shape the world according to His will. This stewardship is not about asserting control but about faithfully abiding in God’s goodness. When we abide in God, our work reflects His nature. However, when we create apart from God, we enter dangerous territory.

The metaphor of King Louis from The Jungle Book serves as a powerful illustration of how people approach creativity without understanding its consequences. King Louis desires fire without comprehending the destructive potential it holds. Similarly, many desire the prestige and recognition that comes with creativity, but they fail to grasp the responsibility that creativity entails. True creation demands wisdom, as we must navigate the chaos and shape it into something meaningful. Yet, we are deeply flawed as human beings.As sinners, we miss the mark every time. This is why we must abide in God. Only through Him can we create rightly.

People chase comfort, but the comfort they seek is often a fleeting thing. It can never be fully found within ourselves. No matter how much we try to make ourselves feel better, no matter how much we surround ourselves with distractions or even people who care, comfort remains elusive. In our darkest hours, even the love of others can feel insufficient. We are left with the sharp sting of loneliness, a deep ache that nothing this world offers can heal.The harsh truth is that when the world falls away, when everything we know crumbles beneath our feet, the only true constant is God. Without Him, we are left with nothing but the emptiness of our own brokenness. The world promises comfort, but it cannot deliver on that promise. It is a comfort that is shallow, temporary, and ultimately unsatisfying. Sin is serious,  It’s not just a matter of missing rules or breaking laws; it’s about failing to recognize our desperate need for the One who can make us whole. It’s about the heartbreaking reality that without God, we are lost. And yet, there is hope. In His grace, He calls us to seek Him. He promises that if we abide in Him, we will never be left alone. It is up to each of us, individually, to turn to Him, to seek Him in the depths of our brokenness and hold fast to His unshakable love. Without Him, we are nothing, but with Him, we are restored, and He is always with you. 

God is the ultimate Creator, the One who fashioned the universe from the depths of chaos. In the beginning, the earth was formless and empty, and darkness was all over. But by His Word, He brought order out of chaos, shaping the world with purpose and design. He is the ultimate Creator not only because He spoke everything into existence but because He took what was wild and unformed and made it into something beautiful and purposeful. This divine act of creation is mirrored in the work of Jesus Christ. Jesus, as the incarnate Word of God, continues this creative mission, turning chaos into order. When He calmed the storm in Mark 4:35-41, He exercised dominion over nature in the same way God did at the beginning. The storm was a picture of chaos, and with a simple command, “Peace! Be still!” Jesus brought order and calm. This miraculous act wasn’t just about stopping a storm; it was a demonstration of His authority over creation itself. Jesus, in His power and authority, restores the very fabric of the world, revealing that He shares in God’s creative power. He shows us that He has come to undo the chaos of sin, to bring order to a fallen world. Through His life, death, and resurrection, Jesus makes it possible for us to be born again, to be recreated in His image. His power over death—seen most dramatically in His raising of Lazarus in John 11 and Jairus’ daughter in Mark 5—demonstrates that He doesn’t just heal; He creates life where there was none. In this, He proves that He shares in God’s life-giving, creative authority. The religious leaders of His day were well aware that only God had the power to create life, forgive sins, and heal the broken. When Jesus acted in these ways, they accused Him of blasphemy and claimed He was violating divine law, not understanding that He was God Himself, the Creator in human form.  when we create with God, we are participating in His work of bringing beauty, truth, and order into the world. Our creativity can become a reflection of His divine character, a tool for healing, restoration, and the revealing of His glory. It is through God’s creative power that we can bring order and meaning to our lives and our works. Only with His guidance can we truly create. 

Art, while often celebrated for its subjectivity, is only subjective to a certain extent. Yes, we all bring our unique perspectives and experiences to what we observe, creating room for a diversity of interpretation.However, the fact that we can recognize patterns, respond to shared emotions, and engage with certain aesthetic qualities suggests that there is a universal thread running through all human experience. This is where the idea of art transcends pure subjectivity. If we accept that institutions like IMDb or the Billboard Top 100 gain their relevance and authority because they reflect a broad consensus on what resonates with society, we must acknowledge that this resonance doesn’t come from a void,it comes from a shared understanding of certain values, aesthetics, and truths. And if these shared values didn’t exist or were disconnected from some greater reality, these institutions and measures of success would collapse. In a world where art is driven purely by individual preference, the idea of objective success in art would be nearly impossible. Yet, we intuitively know that certain works have an enduring quality that transcends time and place. This shared appreciation of certain works points to something more than just individual taste. It suggests that art, at its best, is more than an emotional trigger; it communicates something deeper. So, if art’s only purpose was to evoke an emotion, would dissatisfaction or frustration be counted as a valid emotional response? While these emotions are real, they don’t provide the same fulfillment as awe, peace, or a sense of profound connection. This points to a deeper question: What does it really mean to be successful in art? The true success of art lies not in its ability to evoke any emotion, but in its ability to bring the viewer closer to God. Art that merely elicits a passing emotional response, without offering something more substantial, fails to fulfill its deeper purpose. Success in art is best understood in light of its ultimate purpose—to communicate beauty, truth, and meaning. If art exists to reflect the world in a meaningful way, its highest success is measured by how well it leads the viewer toward God, the ultimate source of all beauty and truth.  Art has the potential to shape minds and emotions in powerful ways. It shapes culture, and it reflects the moral direction of a society. If we understand that morality itself is grounded in God’s nature and character, then art that distorts truth, glorifies sin, or leads people away from virtue cannot be considered successful in a deeper sense. Such art fails to contribute to the flourishing of the human soul, as it ignores or undermines the very truths that give life meaning.True success in art is not defined by popularity, commercial success, or emotional reaction alone. It is found in art’s ability to point the viewer toward God, to communicate what is good, true, and beautiful. These are not abstract ideas; they are rooted in God’s nature. As such, art that fails to lead the viewer toward something greater than themselves, toward awe, humility, or a sense of the divine, has missed its full aesthetic and spiritual potential. The greatest works of art throughout history have always been those that have inspired people to look beyond themselves, to confront ultimate questions about existence, meaning, and the nature of the universe. And in doing so, they point to the Creator Himself. Beauty is often associated with transcendence, with the divine, with something that exists beyond the material world. If beauty reflects the nature of God, then art that leads us to a greater understanding of beauty leads us to a greater understanding of God. Art that inspires awe, humility, and reverence, that directs us to a sense of the divine, has succeeded.

As stewards of creation, our role is both humbling and sacred. We are not the originators of beauty, truth, or meaning. We are participants in a larger design, invited to cultivate what God has already begun. This stewardship is not a license to create as we see fit, but a calling to mirror the goodness of the One who made all things. We shape, build, and express within boundaries defined not by limitation, but by love and truth. To abide in God as stewards means more than simply believing in Him; it means aligning our imagination, our decisions, and our output with His character. In a world driven by the desire for personal legacy, success, and influence, this kind of surrender feels radical. But without it, we risk turning the tools of creation into instruments of chaos.  When we understand ourselves not as owners but as entrusted caretakers, our creativity becomes an act of worship rather than self-expression alone. In abiding, we find both limits and liberty. Limits, in that we must not shape the world according to our broken desires. Liberty, in that when we align with God’s will, we create with confidence, knowing our work contributes to something eternal. Apart from Him, our stewardship turns inward, toward self-preservation or self-exaltation. But in Him, our hands become instruments of healing, order, and renewal. When we create with that reverence, when we act as caretakers who abide in the good and holy God, our influence becomes more than temporary, it becomes eternal.

The world shouts, “Be yourself!” as if that’s the answer to everything. But what if “yourself” is confused? What if “yourself” is fractured, hollow, or lost in pain, lies, and contradiction? The answer is not self-expression. The answer is restoration. And only God can restore what has been broken. In today’s culture, subjective truth has become a religion. People are told that their feelings are the final authority, that what’s true for them is unchallengeable. But the moment someone disagrees with their “truth,” outrage flares. This contradiction exposes the emptiness beneath the surface: they don’t actually want truth, they want agreement. They don’t want authenticity, they want applause. It’s not enough to express themselves; they need others to validate their expression, or they feel erased. But if truth can be bent to fit our emotions, then it cannot stand against anything, not injustice, not evil, not even death. The same voices that proclaim truth is relative suddenly demand absolute moral standards when they see oppression, corruption, or inequality. Their subjective truth turns into an objective outrage. What happens when the applause dies down? When you’re alone? When no one is there to echo your identity or reassure your narrative? What happens when suffering comes, or when you’re standing at the edge of death, stripped of status, possessions, or societal approval? In that moment, the only thing that will matter is whether you are grounded in something eternal. You won’t find yourself by expressing what’s broken, you’ll find yourself by returning to your Creator. Identity isn’t something we construct from within, it’s something revealed from above. We were made in the image of God, not the image of culture, not the image of pain, not the image of social media. And when we stop chasing the illusion of defining ourselves, we discover the freedom of being known.

There was a time in my life when I became acutely aware of just how much people hated Christianity. I saw it in their eyes, their body language, their tone—the way they mocked anything connected to Jesus. It wasn’t just passive dismissal. It was deep, intentional disdain. People in authority over me, teachers, mentors, and cultural voices, went out of their way to ridicule Christ, almost as if it brought them pleasure. That kind of hostility made me pause. I had to ask myself: Why? Why this much hatred? Were they seeing something I was missing? That question led me down a winding path. I started doubting Christianity. I told myself I was “exploring other religions,” but if I’m being honest, I was just looking for something. And yet, through all the philosophies, spiritualities, and ideas I tried to embrace, a deep loneliness lingered. No matter where I went or who I was around, I felt disconnected, like I didn’t belong. That isolation twisted into bitterness. I became angry. Angry at people. Angry at the world. Angry at myself.  I genuinely believed I wouldn’t make it to 18 without harming someone… or myself. I could feel the darkness tightening its grip on my mind and heart. And in a moment of despair—not out of a desire to die, but from the sheer fear of the harm I knew I was capable of—I cried out. But I didn’t call on the gods of the religions I had researched. I called out to Him. The one they all hated. The one they mocked. Jesus. I asked Him to end my life. But He did something else instead. He answered me. He loved me. In that raw, broken moment, Jesus opened my eyes. I began to see the world—and myself—through spiritual eyes. He didn’t erase my loneliness, but He gave it meaning. It wasn’t a punishment; it was an invitation. I still didn’t fit in with the world around me, and honestly, sometimes I still don’t. But I’ve come to understand something far more powerful: I have God. And that is enough. He took the rage that once lived in me and replaced it with vision. . Where I once lived to destroy, I now live to create. God began showing me how to use the skills and gifts He had given me, not for myself, but for His Kingdom. What once felt meaningless became filled with purpose.And I’ll be honest, I still feel angry at times. I still feel lonely. But feelings aren’t the foundation of truth. The truth is this:

I am seen. I am known. I am full of love. And nothing can take that away.

My story is a witness to that emptiness, and to the only One who can fill it. I chased other answers. I looked for peace in other systems, in the world’s approval, in self-exploration. But all of that led to more confusion, more anger, more despair. It wasn’t until I collapsed into the arms of Christ that I saw light. He didn’t demand that I fix myself, He just revealed that He is the answer. Not a concept, but a Person. A living Savior.

You can have companionship by shrinking and by compromising who you are just to be accepted. But you can only have fellowship, a real, deep, soul-anchoring friendship, by staying true. This movement, this message, this mission… it’s not about tweaking the current system. It’s about reshaping the whole field. Revolutionary, yes. But not reckless. Creative, yet firmly grounded in Scripture. Political in its implications, but never partisan in its allegiance. This is about Christ. Not culture wars. Not popularity. Not control. We’re not going to fix this world.

We will fail. Divine intervention is not optional, it’s essential. Jesus will return. He will restore. Until then? Relax. Stop striving like you’re the hero. You’re not. Work with the Lord, not against the current of His providence. Remember Jesus was humble and hidden. He avoided fame. He taught in parables. He lived most of His life in obscurity. God does His greatest work in secret places like In tombs and In wombs. While man built up (the Tower of Babel), God built down (the cross). Only one was successful. Don’t try to predict His moves. Just trust them. Time isn’t a straight line. Time is His. He is eternal, and because we are His, we are eternal too. So don’t fall in love with what isn’t His. Don’t cling to what isn’t eternal.  in the end, He will be seen. 

THANK YOU DV,

BAS (WILL FORGE)