In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." That's what it says. "God created the heavens and the earth." It doesn't say, "God made the heavens and the earth." Nor does it say that he "xeroxed" the heavens and the earth. Or "built" or "developed" or "mass-produced." No, the word is "created."

And that one word says a lot. Creating is something far different than constructing. The difference is pretty obvious. Constructing something engages only the hands while creating something engages the heart and the soul.

You’ve probably noticed this in your own life. Think about something you've created. A painting perhaps. Or a song. Those lines of poetry you never showed to anyone. Or even the doghouse in the backyard.

How do you feel toward that creation? Good? I hope so. Proud? Even protective? You should. Part of you lives in that project. When you create something you are putting yourself into it. It's far greater than an ordinary assignment or task; it's an expression of you!

Now imagine God's creativity. Of all we don't know about the creation, there is one thing we do know – he did it with a smile. He must have had a blast. Painting the stripes on the zebra, hanging the stars in 'the sky, putting the gold in the sunset. What creativity! Stretching the neck of the giraffe, putting the flutter in the mockingbird's wings, planting the giggle in the hyena. What a time he had. Like a whistling carpenter in his workshop, he loved every bit of it. He poured himself into the work. So intent was his creativity that he took a day off at the end of the week just to rest.

And then, as a finale to a brilliant performance, he made man. With his typical creative flair, he began with a useless mound of dirt and ended up with an invaluable species called a human. A human who had the unique honor to bear the stamp, "In His Image." At this point in the story one would be tempted to jump and clap. "Bravo!" "Encore!" "Unmatchable!" "Beautiful!"

But the applause would be premature. The Divine Artist has yet to unveil his greatest creation.

As the story unfolds, a devil of a snake feeds man a line and a piece of fruit, and gullible Adam swallows them both. This one act of rebellion sets in motion a dramatic and erratic courtship between God and man. Though the characters and scenes change, the scenario repeats itself endlessly. God, still the compassionate Creator, woos his creation. Man, the creation, alternately reaches out in repentance and runs in rebellion.

It is within this simple script that God's creativity flourishes. If you thought he was imaginative with the sea and the stars, just wait until you read what he does to get his creation to listen to him!

For example: A flood blankets the earth. A ninety-year-old woman gets pregnant. A woman turns to salt. The sky rains fire. A bush burns (but doesn't burn up!). The Red Sea splits in two. The walls of Jericho fall. A donkey speaks. Talk about special effects! But these acts, be they ever ingenious, still couldn't compare with what was to come.

Nearing the climax of the story, God, motivated by love and directed by divinity, surprised everyone. He became a man. In an untouchable mystery, he disguised himself as a carpenter and lived in a dusty Judean village. Determined to prove his love for his creation, he walked incognito through his own world. His callused hands touched wounds and his compassionate words touched hearts. He became one of us.

Have you ever seen such determination? Have you ever witnessed such a desire to communicate? If one thing didn't work, he'd try another. If one approach failed, he'd try a new one. His mind never stopped. "In the past God spoke … at many times and in various ways," writes the author of Hebrews, "but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son."

But as beautiful as this act of incarnation was, it was not the zenith. Like a master painter God reserved his masterpiece until the end. All the earlier acts of love had been leading to this one. The angels hushed and the heavens paused to witness the finale. God unveils the canvas and the ultimate act of creative compassion is revealed.

God on a cross. The Creator being sacrificed for the creation. God convincing man once and for all that forgiveness still follows failure.

I wonder if, while on the cross, the Creator allowed his thoughts to wander back to the beginning. Did he see how the beauty and perfection of his creation had been marred and scarred by countless generations of sinners? When he looked at the crowd gathered below him, did he see people who had once been created in the image of God, but were now under the control of the devil? Did his heart ache when he saw his masterpiece broken by iniquity and covered with graffiti of transgressions?

We don't know. We don’t know what he thought. We do know what he said.

Stop and listen. Can you imagine hear the cry from the cross? The sky is dark. The other two victims are moaning. The jeering mouths are silent. Perhaps there is thunder. Perhaps there is weeping. Perhaps there is silence. Then Jesus draws in a deep breath, pushes his feet down on that Roman nail, and cries, "It is finished!"

He cried out: "It is finished!" "It is accomplished, fulfilled, completed!" You have to put an explanation point at the end of that phrase. The job is done. It is accomplished.

The artist, Michelangelo, stands back from his stone sculpture, the marble figure of young King David, and looks at his marble statue with is brilliant eye for detail. There is nothing more that he can do. He puts his mallet down, his chisels, his fine polishing stone and says, "It is done. I have finally finished my masterpiece. I had the design in my mind and after all these weeks and months, it is finished. The work is done. There is nothing more I can do." And the mood of the phrase, it is finished, is triumphant, an exclamation of satisfaction.

Michelangelo’s masterpiece still stands centuries later. God’s masterpiece was ruined shortly after it was created. Throughout the Old Testament God, the master craftsman, worked to mold and shape and plan for his masterpiece to be perfect and whole once again. Lambs killed. Blood shed. Scapegoats abandoned. Bulls sacrificed. Prophets preached.

Then a cradle was fashioned. The God-man born. Perfection on earth. Compassion to humanity. A cross was made. And the master craftsman had one final hammer blow and his masterpiece was restored. It was the hammer blow upon a nail into his Son. And the Son cries out, "It is finished!"

It is with this mood of victory and exclamation that we hear these words from the lips of Jesus, "It is finished!!!" His final words on earth, according to the Gospel of John, are not: "O shucks. It is over. Over and done with.  I can’t take it any more." Not at all. The mood is just the opposite. Jesus didn’t whisper. He had a sip of wine vinegar and shouted: "It is accomplished! The history-long plan of redeeming man is finished. The message of God to man is finished. The blood has been poured. The sacrifice has been made. The sting of death has been removed. There is nothing more that needs to be done to make it better."

A cry of defeat? Hardly. Had Christ’s hands not been fastened down, I dare say that a triumphant fist would have punched the dark sky. No, this is no cry of despair. It is a cry of completion. A cry of victory. A cry of fulfillment. Yes, even a cry of relief. It is a cry of creative compassion.

The mission was finished. All that the master craftsman needed to do was done and was done in splendor. His creation could now come home. Death was defeated. Satan was smashed. Sin was covered. Life was restored. "It is finished!" he cried. And the great Creator went home.

(He's not resting, though. Word has it that his tireless creative hands are preparing a city so glorious that even the angels get goosebumps upon seeing it. Considering what he has done so far, that is one creation I hope we all plan to see.) Amen.