creativity

The Mason’s Masterpiece: Why God Cares About Craftsmanship

By Chris Horst

For two summers during college, I worked ten-hour days under the hot and humid Pennsylvania sun as a mason tender—or more commonly, as a mud boy. I mixed concrete, hauled cement blocks and attempted to assist our masons. Some days I lugged, stacked, and mixed like a champ. Other days I became the target of creative expletives.

The Power of Pentecost in Vocation and Globalization

By Joseph Sunde

Given the dynamics of the information age and ever-accelerating globalization, humanity faces a wave of new opportunities and challenges when it comes to creating, collaborating, and consuming alongside those in vastly differing contexts.

Work Weaves the Fabric of Civilization

By Lester DeKoster

The fabric of civilization, like all fabrics, is made up of countless tiny threads—each thread the work of someone. Superficially, any given thread might be readily spared or replaced—that could be my job or yours.

Thinking this, we go to work on the margin, so to speak, of culture: Who needs me?

Creative Service and the Mirage of Disability

By Joseph Sunde

Annette Gabbedy is a business owner and an expert designer and goldsmith. She was also born without fingers, a trait many would consider to be a “disability,” particularly in her line of work.

Yet, as she explains in the following video, having created and traded her wares for over 20 years, Gabbedy sees no reason for that to inhibit her creativity and contribution to society. Quite to the contrary:

Work Is Not a Punishment for the Fall

By Scott Rae

Work has intrinsic value because it was ordained by God prior to the entrance of sin into the world. If you look at the Genesis account of creation closely, you’ll see that God commanded Adam and Eve to work the garden before sin entered the picture (Gen. 2:15). God did not condemn human beings to work as a consequence Adam and Eve’s sin. Work is not a punishment on human beings for their sin.

Grandpa Abe and the Workers

By Chris Horst

I sat on the countertop as my mom shared the tragic news: My grandpa—Abe Horst—had died.

A heart attack seized his last breath at the early age of 63. While reading the newspaper during a summer day in 1997, he passed. He was healthy and active and we were not ready to say goodbye. While our relationship revolved around my early adolescent affinities like pizza and beach vacations, I cherished him immensely.

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