All tagged imago Dei
It is true that our movement has always valued Scripture as being “useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness.” We know that “the world” can be an enemy to us, and so we will always need to recognize situations where we need to hold on, be faithful, and separate ourselves from the world. In other words, we can’t assume that relevance solves our problems – we might have to be willing to be “different.”
We truly, sincerely, want to be more like Christ. But do we really? I ask this only because it seems our impatience and avoidance of others is truly impressive. We have perfected the art of being angry, passive-aggressive, inflammatory, and obnoxious gloaters when things go our way.
In the hustle of hospital corridors, amidst the beeping of monitors and the steady flow of patients and staff, chaplains often encounter God in ways that defy conventional expectations. As microcosms of human diversity, hospitals present unique opportunities to witness God. Here, individuals face their most vulnerable selves, whether due to illness, loss, or fear. In these moments, God is encountered in profound, unfiltered ways. It is not always within the walls of a church or in the company of believers that we most powerfully experience the divine. Instead, God’s presence often reveals itself in the faces and lives of those we least expect—those who may never speak the language of faith yet embody the very heart of divine compassion. These encounters reveal that the image of God—the imago Dei—dwells in everyone (Genesis 1:26-27).
Consider the love the Father has for us. We experience God’s love in great depth not only because God has chosen to reveal Himself to us, but because He fully knows us and has chosen to love us. Love is fully realized by being known.
Living from the false self distances us from God. By building a persona based on pride or external validation, we alienate ourselves from the divine connection. The false self obstructs our spiritual growth, resulting in a divided life in which we are separated from both our true self and God.
I want to encourage us with the conviction that we as ministers, theologians, and Christian leaders have something important to add to the conversation.
As we wean ourselves off the holiday season, there is a part of me that wonders what it would be like to embody year-round the excitement of the season that celebrates the birth of Jesus.
Our true identity is not found in a man, or in their roles, titles, jobs, beauty, intelligence, accomplishments, or children. True identity is found in Jesus Christ. Period.
I love talking with people who are genuinely passionate about an art form. The comments and energy that surface come from a place deeper than productivity or even functionality.
As the created world hosts humanity, we have much to learn from the soil, from the seeds. Stretching toward the light, cultivated hearts propagate God’s mission.
Inclusion means that the congregation embraces the inherent value in all voices and seeks to make them an active part of the whole.
It makes no sense that we would be called out of our life of wrath by an act of wrath.
Beauty might be in the eye of the beholder, but that eye seems inconsistent in its demands for meeting expectations of beauty.
There exists a group of people who feel like they are not being heard. Not being listened to. Not being welcomed into the kingdom of God in the way God intended.
Our heritage focuses on right thinking and purposeful doing, often without acknowledging emotion.
We must be careful about moving from “anyone can preach” to “it doesn’t matter who is in the pulpit.”
Jesus prays for us to achieve unity in our diversity so that the world will know the unconditional love of God and believe.
I invite you to share in some of the lessons I have learned from this man who in many ways has been a spiritual giant in my life.
Treating children as pilgrims on a spiritual journey requires us to view children for what they are: God's image bearers.
Dear one, that star, burning far in the distance, reminds me of you. I knew you would be here, so I modeled its interstellar dance after your fire and passion.
