8d • Open Door Stories
Created to Create
I was reading in the book of Exodus last week and I had one of those moments. You know, where you go, wait… what? It was a detail that surprised me to the point that I just sat for a little bit with my mouth hanging open. And now, I can’t get it out of my head. It’s like an ear worm. You know what an ear worm is right? It’s when a song or phrase gets stuck in your head and won’t let go.
Exodus 31:1–5
Now the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, “See, I have called by name Bezalel, the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. And I have filled him with the Spirit of God in wisdom, in understanding, in knowledge, and in all kinds of craftsmanship, to create artistic designs for work in gold, in silver, and in bronze, and in the cutting of stones for settings, and in the carving of wood, so that he may work in all kinds of craftsmanship.
I have read through the Bible a few times and I know I have read this part, but why did I never see this little detail?
As it turns out, this is the first instance that mentions God filling anyone with his Spirit. It wasn’t a king, a prophet, or even a warrior. It was a craftsman, and his name was Bezalel.
So, my first question was, “For what? Why was he the first one to be filled with God’s Spirit? It wasn’t to preach, lead an army, or call down fire.He got filled to make things.
The story says he was given wisdom, understanding, and skill. Hands‑on know‑how for shaping wood, cutting stone, hammering gold, and sewing curtains straight enough that the corners didn’t fight him. The place he was building (the tabernacle) was where heaven and earth were going to meet. (Exodus 37–38) That sticks with me.
Based on what we know about the day of Pentecost in the New Testament, I think the expectation is that spiritual power is supposed to look like thunder, lightning, or at the very least, tongues of fire. But the first Spirit‑filled moment in scripture happens in a workshop. Sawdust in the air. Purple thread on the table. A lamp burning low while somebody tries to get the angles just right.
It’s almost funny how ordinary it is. And maybe that’s the point.
Bezalel didn’t get ideas floating in the clouds. He got chokmah (Hebrew for practiced wisdom. The kind you learn by doing something again and again until your hands know what your brain can’t quite explain. (Proverbs 1:1–7)
Skill plus discernment. Knowing how to do something well and when to do it. God needed people to make the world more like heaven. Not in theory, but in wood shavings and elbow grease.
This tells me something about how God sees the world, and how God sees us. And the only conclusion I can draw is, “If the first spirit-filled person was a maker, then making, creating, shaping, building, repairing, designing, cooking, teaching, planting… all of this is holy ground.
Genesis 1 From the very first chapter, God is introduced as a maker.
Genesis 1:26–28 Then God makes people “in his image” — which basically means we’re mirrors angled toward the world.
God’s first self‑description is “creator,” and we are meant to reflect that. It follows that creativity isn’t optional. It’s part of being human.
Now, that doesn’t mean everybody becomes an artist with a gallery show. It means everybody is invited to shape the world toward life.
Planting. Fixing. Teaching. Cooking. Coding. Listening. Building. Writing… any act that brings order, beauty, or care into the world is part of the family business.
And here’s the thing: you don’t have to be good at everything. You just have to be faithful with the thing that’s in your hands.
(Exodus 35:34) Bezalel didn’t build the whole tabernacle alone. He had helpers. He had teachers. He had people who were better at some things and worse at others.
That’s how community works. That’s how creation works. That’s how we should work.
The Holy Spirit first shows up to empower a maker, then creativity isn’t a luxury. It’s a calling.
The tabernacle — the place where heaven and earth touched — was built by an artist.That’s a mic‑drop if there ever was one. God trusted beauty and craftsmanship to hold sacred space.
Which means the work you do — whatever it looks like — can be a spiritual act. The plumber who makes a house livable. The teacher who shapes a mind. The neighbor who mends a fence. The designer who makes a tool easier to use. The kid who fixes a bike chain for a friend. None of this is incidental. It’s all part of reflecting the Creator.
I know some of you reading this don’t think you have much to offer. I know some of you walk into a room and feel like you’re already behind. I know some of you think you’re not smart enough, strong enough, talented enough, or brave enough.
But… You were created to create.
Not someday when you “get your act together.” Now. You have something in you — right now — that the world needs. And I’m not talking about being the best at something. I’m talking about the quiet gifts that don’t get applause.
Some are good at fixing things, noticing when someone’s left out, listening, making people laugh, staying calm when everyone else is losing it, and some are good at trying again after failing.
What Bezalel do? He took the skills he had — the ones he’d practiced, the ones he’d learned, the ones he’d probably messed up a hundred times — and he used them to build something that mattered.
You can do that. The world needs what you can make — even if you don’t see it yet.
Let me put it porch‑side simple:
- Creativity is spiritual. The Spirit equips people to make.
- Skill matters. Chokmah is practiced wisdom; learn your craft.
- Dignity is universal. Every honest act of making points back to God.
- Beauty is both useful and moral. A well‑made thing can teach reverence.
God didn’t give Bezalel a sermon; he gave him a chisel. That chisel made a place where people could meet God. And THAT is the whole point.
Maybe your “chisel” is a wrench, a paintbrush, a notebook, a recipe, a guitar, a sewing needle, or a quiet heart that knows how to sit with someone who’s hurting.
Whatever it is — it matters.
I like to picture Bezalel in a dusty tent, hammer in hand, listening to the crackle of a lamp. Somebody walks in and says, “So, you’re filled with the Spirit?”And he just shrugs, wipes his hands, and says, “Yeah. It helps with the corners.”
That’s what the spirit-filled life looks like right there. Not fog machines, fanfare, or loud proclamations.
Just finishing the corner right.
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