On the Image of God

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When I look at people, I see something.

An indescribable mysterious force that surrounds and fills the person, making them infinitely more beautiful than it seems they should be when the only thing you look at is the concrete, rational form in front of you.

There is a beautiful essence in a human.

It is the essence of the divine.

People-watching is my favorite. This summer, sitting in a crowded place, eating my dinner, letting my eyes rove over the souls that wander by. Parents with children. Couples, those who are young and enraptured with each other and those who have lived a comfortable life together for years gone by. Groups of teenagers holding cones of ice cream. The custodians, the security workers. A few other lone souls, like me, enjoying the tranquility of the evening.

And over the entire scene hovers that mysterious something that gives extraordinary beauty to the ordinary person.

If you do not believe in the soul, watch a person. Really watch them. If you are honest, you will be forced to admit that there is something more than skin and bones and blood.

So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. 

Humanity is broken. We are ugly and bruised and shattered. But in the shards there remain fragments of the design that was lovingly crafted by the Designer in the beginning.

He poured Himself into us. And no matter how marred is the image, there is a piece of that picture in each person. We are living, breathing, walking and talking witnesses to the One who is perfection.

He completes the image that hovers around and in the human soul. When we are overwhelmed by the trembling, fragile beauty of the breath of life, when we long to see the picture as it was meant to be seen, we can run to Him.

And there we behold the full glory of the picture we were made to reflect, and in reverent worship we bow before the Perfect One.

love, grace

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