I AM VERY much a do-it-yourselfer, and have been for decades. There’s hardly a type of home-improvement or repair project that I haven’t done or at least tried, from flooring to drywall to roofing, from plumbing to electrical, from cabinetry to tile. Some of this was born of necessity. Things needed to be fixed, and we couldn’t afford to pay someone else to do it. I had to learn on my own — and without the benefit of the YouTube videos we now take for granted.

But it wasn’t just a matter of necessity. I take great satisfaction in being able to do, make, and create things. This too takes many forms. It can be the keepsake Christmas ornaments I make every year from polymer clay for my kids and grandkids. Or the watercolor greeting cards I paint for friends. Or the black-and-white photographs that adorn the wall of our guest room. Even cooking can be a creative act, right down to taking care that the ketchup I squirt on my omelet makes an appealing squiggle.

I then immediately smear the ketchup all over the omelet. But I enjoy the squiggle first.

I believe that creativity, in all its forms, is one way we reflect the image of God, the Creator. We don’t reflect it perfectly, of course; how many tries does it take before we produce something we might consider a work of art? And even then, we might have regrets. We might think, It could be better. I should have done it this way instead.

Somehow, I doubt God thought that way about the universe he created. With each new day of creation, God surveyed his handiwork and pronounced it “good.” He didn’t say, “I guess that’s good enough.” He didn’t say, “Not bad for a first try, but we’ll give it another shot tomorrow.” It was good, all good, in the deepest sense of the word.

That goodness, that wholeness, is a picture of what the Bible means by “peace.”

AS WE’VE SEEN, in his letter to the Colossians, Paul paints a cosmic portrait of who Jesus was and what he accomplished on the cross. Verses 15 to 20 of Colossians 1 are like a poem or hymn celebrating Jesus as the cosmic Christ, the firstborn over all creation, the firstborn from among the dead. He is the one in whom we have our inheritance, the promise of resurrection. Paul ends the poem on an equally exalted note:

For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. (Col 1:19-20, NIV)

Paul has already said that “all things” were created in the Son. The Son is therefore “before” or preeminent over “all things,” and “all things” hold together in him. But human sin spoiled God’s good creation, such that “all things” subsequently needed to be reconciled to God. That’s the cosmic dimension of Jesus’ work on the cross: he made peace for the whole of creation through his blood.

As I suggested in an earlier post, when Paul uses the Greek word for “peace,” he almost certainly has in mind the Hebrew concept of shalom, typically but not exclusively translated as “peace.” But this is not just peace as the absence of war or conflict; it’s the active presence of God’s shalom, the wholeness and goodness with which the universe was originally created. That is the peace that was broken by sin; that is the peace restored by the cross.

The restoration of shalom has consequences for human relationships. Writing to the church in Ephesus, for example, and speaking of the age-old animosity between Jews and Gentiles, Paul says this about Jesus:

For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. (Eph 2:14-16)

Paul isn’t just saying that Jews and Gentiles should all get along after they become Christians. Both groups needed to be reconciled to God and to each other. The wall of hostility that separated them has been demolished so that a new creation could begin, the creation of a new and united humanity where there was once strife and division. Jesus is our peace because he has made peace through the cross. This is shalom; this is the wholeness that should characterize Christ’s church.

But does it?

Paul is no starry-eyed idealist. As an experienced pastor and missionary, he’s fully aware of the many ways congregations go astray. He’s seen churches divided by jealousy and anger; he’s watched believers treat each other with contempt; he knows the many ways their selfishness can ride roughshod over compassion. And all of this can be true even in congregations where he knows the Holy Spirit is active.

This is why we need to keep a wise eschatological perspective, to remember that while the kingdom already exists, it is not yet complete. The work of the cross is done; he is our peace and he has made peace. But it is now our vocation as believers to live into that new reality. In a sense, that reality is more real, more true than the lies we sometimes tell ourselves about who must be hated and why. Especially within the body of Christ, we need to pursue the peace that God has made possible through Jesus.

How might you do this in any given situation? I can’t tell you in advance; you’ll have to figure it out.

Get creative.