More Than a Musical: Directing 1776 as an Act of Worship
This week, our community theater, The Seeing Place, opens 1776 The Musical. I have the joy of directing this production while also playing Abigail Adams. Steven plays Dr. Benjamin Franklin, and our son, Asher, brings The Courier to life. Over the past two months, I’ve had the privilege of working with twenty-four volunteer actors, ages 15 to 75, and through this process, the idea of creativity as worship has come full circle.
Art—whether on stage, in music, or in storytelling—can be a beautiful and holy act of worship. Directing these talented, dedicated artists has given me a deeper understanding of what it means to offer our creativity as a sacrifice of praise. In the long rehearsals, in the collaboration, in the moments of breakthrough and struggle, I’ve seen a living symphony of praise unfold.
Hebrews 13:15 says, “Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that openly profess his name.”
Praise and sacrifice—two words that don’t seem to belong together. Praise evokes joy, jubilation, and shouts of worship. Sacrifice implies loss, something that costs us deeply.
Sometimes, praise is easy—when God provides, when our families are cared for, when life is going well. But more often than not, praise requires sacrifice. It’s when we’d rather be somewhere else, when God doesn’t answer the way we expected, when life is heavy. And yet, through Jesus, we are called to continually offer a sacrifice of praise.
Our actors in 1776 have done just that.
Every one of us is carrying something hard. Some are shifting careers, others have experienced the death of loved ones. Some are struggling in their marriages, while others are navigating the complexities of high school and relationships in 2025. Some are lonely, and others are battling deep insecurities, illness, and pain. Yet, each week, we come together—sacrificing time and talent to create something bigger than ourselves.
It is worship.
When you witness what a sacrifice of praise looks like in the everyday moments of rehearsing a community theater production, you begin to see how creativity itself can become an act of worship.
Steven Bain as Benjamin Franklin, Erika Bain as Abigail Adams, and Asher as The Courier.
Genesis 1:1 says, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”
The first thing we see God doing in Scripture is creating. Isn’t that remarkable? A God who is gracious, merciful, full of love, justice, and truth—a God who is omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent—a God who is slow to anger, loyal, kind, full of peace and patience—chose not to reveal these attributes in the very first words of Scripture. Instead, He reveals Himself as Creator.
And then, in Genesis 1:27, He tells us that we are created in His image. That means creativity isn’t just an ability; it’s part of our divine design.
Over the past two months, I have watched my cast live out this truth each week. They are creators. They have shaped characters with movement, quirks, accents, and style. They have breathed life into songs and dances. From black-and-white words on a page, they have come together to add color to a story, bringing it to life.
Genesis 1:2 says, “The earth was formless and empty, and darkness covered the deep waters. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the waters.”
When we start a production, it is formless and empty—just dark black letters on a white page. But when God moves and breathes through directors, actors, and crew members, the world of the story begins to take shape and come to life.
When you see creativity as worship, you recognize it as more than a skill, a hobby, or something to fill the time. Creativity becomes an offering—a way to reflect God’s image—a sacred act where God Himself hovers over the work of your hands, breathing life and color into your gifts to bring something beautiful into being.
Fred Reindl, Jr. as Edward Rutledge, Cameron Robinson as John Adams, Kati Meyer as Martha Jefferson, and Bruce Rivenbark as Stephen Hopkins.
Psalm 145:4 says, “One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.”
Theater has always been a collaborative art, but there is something especially sacred about seeing four generations—ages 15 to 75—coming together to create. In 1776, we have young people taking their first steps into adulthood, adults juggling work and family responsibilities, and seasoned folks who bring decades of wisdom and experience. Yet, despite the differences in age and background, we are united in one purpose: to tell a story.
This is a picture of worship.
Creativity is not meant to exist in isolation. It is something to be shared, something that bridges generations. The younger actors bring fresh energy and passion, while the older ones offer guidance and depth. Together, we learn from one another, encourage one another, and create something that none of us could do alone.
When we see creativity as worship, we recognize that it is more than self-expression—it is a way to build, connect, and reflect the beauty of God’s design for community. It is a space where wisdom is passed down, where joy is multiplied, and where each voice—young and old—adds to the greater symphony of praise.
Connie LoCurto as Lewis Morris, Trent Marshburn as Thomas Jefferson, Jon Triest as Colonel McKean, and Jacob and Brody Rivenbark as Andrew McNair and Richard Henry Lee.
Matthew 13:34-35 says, “Jesus spoke all these things to the crowd in parables; he did not say anything to them without using a parable. So was fulfilled what was spoken through the prophet: ‘I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter things hidden since the creation of the world.’”
Theater is a unique way to engage with truth—it invites the audience to step into someone else’s experience and wrestle with the weight of their choices. 1776 is a perfect example of this, as it presents the Founding Fathers not as idealized heroes but as real men grappling with doubt, division, and sacrifice. These moments of struggle, of weighing conviction against consequence, draw us into a deeper understanding of history, leadership, and human nature.
Theater aligns with the way Jesus taught. He didn’t just list moral rules.
He told stories.
His parables were vivid, engaging, and sometimes even unsettling—forcing listeners to see truth in a way they hadn’t before.
Jesus used storytelling to reveal deeper realities, and when we engage in theater with the same purpose—shedding light on truth, history, and the human experience—our creativity becomes an offering of worship.
Last year, we renamed our theater The Seeing Place. The Greek word for theater is theatron (ϑεάομαι), and it means The Place of Seeing. In theater we see ourselves, others, and the human struggle. In the story, we have an opportunity to see our lives reflected like in a mirror through others' lives and experiences.
Creativity as worship happens when we use the gifts God has given us to reflect His nature and invite others into a deeper understanding of truth. Creativity as worship holds a mirror up to the beholder and gives them something to aim for.
Romans 12:1-2 reminds us that our lives—our work, our creativity, our storytelling—can be an act of worship when we surrender them to God’s purposes. Theater, when done well, has the power to renew minds, to challenge assumptions, and to stir hearts toward something greater than themselves. It’s not just entertainment; it’s a way to hold up a mirror to the world and ask, “What is true? What is right? What is worth fighting for?”
Creativity isn’t just about making something beautiful; it’s about using what we create to invite others into reflection, transformation, and, ultimately, worship.
Gabriel Triest as John Dickinson, Rebekah Brown as Judge Wilson, Joe Bennett as Dr. Lymon Hall, Jean-Michael Akey as President John Hancock, and Noah Pettis as Charles Thomson
It has been an incredible honor to direct and perform alongside these 24 amazing actors, musicians, and volunteers. This production of 1776 has been more than just a performance—it has been a reflection of creativity as worship.
Through this process, we have seen the beauty of a multi-generational cast, each person bringing their unique voice and experiences to the stage. We have experienced a sacrifice of praise, the offering of time, energy, and passion that creativity requires. We have followed the pattern of our Creator, shaping something from nothing, mirroring the way God breathes life into His creation. We have witnessed transformation as storytelling and theater draw us into a deeper understanding—of history, humanity, and of ourselves.
Special thanks to Nancy Robinson for all of the magnificent photos included in this post.
My hope for those in the cast, those in the audience, and even those reading this now is that we begin to see our creative gifts not just as talents, but as acts of worship. That we collaborate, craft, and bring light into the world through story. That we use theater—art—creativity—to hold up a mirror, not only to history but to ourselves, inviting reflection and transformation.
And through all of our creative endeavors we become better image-bearers of God,
using our creativity to bring truth, beauty, and worship into the world.
