The Image in Every Face

Morning light breaks over a busy street corner. A stream of humanity passes by: a nurse in scrubs, a construction worker, a mother with her toddler, a man in a threadbare coat. Different stories, different struggles. Yet each carries the same sacred imprint. Each face bears the image of God.

Genesis 1.26-27 makes an audacious declaration. In the ancient world, only kings and emperors claimed divine image-bearing status, erecting statues throughout their realms as symbols of authority. But Scripture democratizes this concept: “So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” This is a revolutionary claim about human worth. Every person carries the divine stamp. There’s no hierarchy here. No nation holds more of God’s likeness; no class holds less. 

The Hebrew word צֶלֶם (tselem, “image”) refers to a representation or likeness. When paired with דְּמוּת (demûṯ, “likeness”), it establishes humanity’s unique position in creation. We alone bear this distinction among all God’s works.

Because every person bears God’s image, every person possesses inherent dignity. This worth doesn’t derive from productivity, age, or social status. God himself confers it. Nicholas Wolterstorff observes that the very concept of universal human rights springs from this Christian conviction. Our dignity arises from God, and no human authority can revoke it.

Consider the implications. To harm or demean another person isn’t merely cruel; it’s sacrilege. When we attack someone, we attack the image of God in that person. Conversely, when we honor someone, especially those society considers “least,” we honor God himself.

This truth carried explosive power in the early church. Former enemies ate at the same table. Social outcasts became family. Paul could write to the Galatians: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3.28). To a society stratified by ethnicity, class, and gender, these words rang out like a liberation anthem.

Why did early Christians embrace such radical equality? Because Jesus made it visible. He consistently affirmed the dignity of society’s outcasts. In a culture that marginalized women and children, he welcomed them. While others avoided lepers, Jesus touched them. He dined with despised tax collectors. He declared the last would be first.

The Gospels show Jesus honoring the image of God in everyone: learned Pharisees and roadside beggars alike. His interactions with those deemed worthless (women, the poor, foreigners, the sick) demonstrated God’s heart for his image-bearers.

But Jesus did more than demonstrate human worth through his life. He proved it through his death. God himself became human, born in a stable, not a palace. He lived as a man and died on a criminal’s cross. As one preacher observed, “Once you see Jesus become poor for us, you will never look at the poor the same way again.”

The incarnation itself validates human dignity. When the Word became flesh (John 1.14), God affirmed the goodness of human existence. Christ’s resurrection then elevates that dignity further, promising transformation and glory for all who trust in him.

What does this mean for us today? C.S. Lewis wrote: “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” Every person we encounter bears eternal significance. Every neighbor, every stranger is an immortal being whom God made and Christ died to redeem.

Jesus drives this home in Matthew 25.40: “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Our treatment of the vulnerable is received as treatment of Jesus himself. There’s no separating love for God from love for those bearing his image.

This calls for a practical response:

• Recognition: Really see people, especially those we’re prone to overlook. The teenager bagging groceries and the corporate executive possess equal worth.
• Respect: Treat others with the dignity we would give Christ himself. This means our words, our tone, our actions all reflect their inherent value.
• Responsibility: Actively defend human dignity. This means opposing racism, protecting the vulnerable, caring for the elderly, defending the unborn.

Remember, we too are image-bearers: flawed, fallen, but bearing divine worth. This truth should humble our pride while lifting our heads on our worst days.

In a world fracturing along countless lines, this truth offers solid ground. Human dignity and equality don’t rest on shifting cultural opinions but on God’s unchanging declaration that humanity is “very good.”

The implications ripple outward. How might our conversations change if we truly regarded each person as bearing the divine image? How might our communities heal? The journey starts small, perhaps in how we greet the next stranger, or the grace we extend to someone who’s wronged us.

In these acts, we affirm what has always been true: every person is cherished by God. There’s a profound unity in our humanity, a shared sacred spark calling us to recognize each other as equals before our Creator.

As we learn to honor that spark in one another, we participate in something holy. We echo our Creator’s declaration over humanity: “very good.” We continue Christ’s mission of love for the least. We become, in small ways, the family God always intended: one people, diverse and beautiful, bearing the image of God together.

~PW 🌮🛶

• Brown, F., Driver, S. R., & Briggs, C. A. (1979). The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English lexicon. Hendrickson.
• Lewis, C. S. (2001). The weight of glory. HarperOne. (Original work published 1949)
• Wolterstorff, N. (2008). Justice: Rights and wrongs. Princeton University Press.