Returning to the Calling We Buried: When Creativity Becomes Holy Again

A journal on a table, pen, soft light — inviting creativity

There are moments in life when we realize we’ve been living a story that was never ours to begin with.

One of those moments happened for me during my second year of engineering school.

I was sitting in a classroom surrounded by equations, formulas, and circuit diagrams, and something inside me whispered—a quiet truth I had been ignoring:

“This isn’t who you are.”

Everyone told me engineering was the sensible choice. “You’re good at math.” “You’re smart.” “You’ll always have a stable job.”

And honestly, none of that was wrong. But it also wasn’t me.

Because long before I ever held a calculator, I held a pen.

The Child Who Knew the Truth

Childlike freedom and creativity

As a kid, writing wasn’t a hobby—it was instinct. I wrote stories in spiral notebooks. Poems that spilled out of nowhere. Ideas that came faster than my hand could move.

Writing felt like breath.

But somewhere along the way, the world’s voice became louder than my own:

“You can’t make a living doing that.”

“Artists need a backup plan.”

“That’s not responsible.”

And slowly, painfully, I let fear drown out the gift God had placed inside me.

I chose engineering—not because I loved it, but because it felt “safe.”

The Voice That Shut the Door

Fear is subtle. It disguises itself as logic, responsibility, planning, maturity.

But at its root, fear is always saying the same thing:

“Who you are isn’t enough.”

So I followed the path that fear approved of.

I traded creativity for stability.

Passion for predictability.

And I tried to convince myself I was doing the “right” thing.

But your soul always knows when you’re living someone else’s life.

The Door God Reopened

Years later—after drowning, after trauma, after a deep encounter with God’s love—something unexpected happened:

Creativity came back.

Not with pressure.

Not with striving.

But with ease.

God gently washed away the belief that writing wasn’t “practical,” and replaced it with something far truer:

“This is who you are. And I put this inside you on purpose.”

It wasn’t a diversion.

It wasn’t a childhood phase.

It wasn’t irresponsible.

It was a calling.

And once I embraced it, abundance began flowing in ways I never imagined—books, ideas, creativity, healing, clarity, peace.

Maybe You Buried Something Sacred Too

If there was something you once loved—something that made you come alive—something you shut down because the world said it wasn’t realistic…

That desire may not be random.

It might be a seed God planted long ago.

And like all seeds, it waits.

Patiently. Quietly. Until we’re ready to remember.

A Path Back to Who You Really Are

That’s one of the reasons I wrote Our Bodies as the Garden of Eden.

Because sometimes the healing we need isn’t becoming something new—It’s returning to the person God created us to be before fear, expectation, and “supposed to” covered us.

Your body.

Your gifts.

Your identity.

Your creativity.

Your calling.

They were never mistakes.

They were mirrors of Eden all along.

👉 Explore more in Our Bodies as the Garden of Eden

👉 And if you want to know more of my journey, The River shares the deepest parts of that story.

Infinite love and blessings,

Nicholas