We will arrive where we started and know the place for the first time

An author I am reading right now stated that in order to create, to be about to write or paint, one must give themselves the illusion that the act of creating, of writing or painting or drawing, has meaning. That because we live in a meaningless world, and because there really is no point to doing anything, we must, in order to create, tell ourselves a lie; that it really does matter. When we then live in this illusion, we are able to take a pen to paper, or a brush to canvas because we are deluded into believing what we are doing has meaning.
As I read this, I realized that I believe in the antithesis of this logic, that life really does have meaning and that what we do creatively really does matter. It is no illusion. I then realized that I have all the more reason to put pen to paper, all the more reason to pull the creativity out of my soul, if for the very reason that I believe I have a soul. If the argument is that we can only create if we trick ourselves into believing that what we produce is worth the effort in a world where nothing matters but survival, then why do it at all. I guess the reason would be for self fulfillment and that old existential idea that one must do something to justify ones existence and an act of creative output is better than nothing.
But, here I am fighting to find the courage to write or paint, the vision that is needed to put imagined ideas onto a tangible surface for all to see. I, who truly believe God has endowed each of us with a fragment of his creative essence, and gifted all of us with imaginations, should be prolific in my production of art. But I stumble and fall and listen to the liar who says; “It does not matter, it will all burn anyway.” It does matter, it is the very thing that matters most; the joy of doing, of partaking in the divine, of channeling, as it were, the pleasure of God. It is with a tremble that I write these words, that I, a broken vessel, would be allowed the honor of sharing with God the creative process.
There is a story to be told, one that is full of mystery, one that only I can tell, in my fallen ability. The story may not be the greatest, but it will be the best I can do. And, because I know that meaning is not an illusion, and purpose is not a lie I tell myself, I can and will begin to travel in the realms of possibilities,
God says he will quiet me with his love; “The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take grat delight in you, he will quiet you with his love.” (Zephaniah 3:17). This is what I need, to be quieted in Gods love, to be held close while I panic, feeling fear creep up my spine and whirl around in my stomach. To be quiet, silent enough to hear the voice of God, to know the voice of this calling, where I will find the center, the peace that I need to create and allow myself the joy of creativity.