In Whose Image?

I suspect most of us are very familiar with the passages in Genesis that talks about God creating us in his image. Genesis 1:27 tells us

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

I have been thinking about this for a while now, ever since I heard a snippet of conversation on the radio about being created in God’s image. The person was admonishing his listeners to be better, more righteous, yes, more perfect – because, after all, we were the only image of God some people would ever see, and we needed to be an accurate representation of who God is – and what he expects us to be.

I have to admit; I got fed up with hearing all of this and turned the radio off.  But it got me thinking about God’s image and what that meant to me. Or should mean to me.

Here is what I have decided. I am created in God’s image – the Bible clearly states it. But the image of I now carry with me is not one of the stern and demanding overbearing father. Instead, I see his image as an accurate reflection of who I am.

Now, don’t hear me wrong. I am not saying I am all that wonderful – like God is. Neither am I without flaw or sin – as God most certainly is. But when I think of being created in his image what that means to me is that God has expressed himself in us; in me. I believe God sometimes feels disappointment, as I often do. I think he feels anger and even rage, as I sometimes do. I think he loves to laugh, as I certainly do. And I think he loves me with a love that is beyond comprehension, a love that I can only begin to relate to by comparing it to my mother’s love; and maybe even more to my Nana’s heart.

I am blessed to have two children, both married to fine Christian spouses. Between them, they have given me 6 beautiful grandchildren (was there ever an ugly grandchild)? Sometimes, when I am trying to feel God’s love more fully, he reminds me of a scene from several years ago. Two of my granddaughters are now 13 and 10. When they were just 4 ½ and almost 2, we lived a few miles apart. One sunny afternoon, I heard their van pull up, and I went out onto our deck to wait for them. As soon as the door slid open, Shayla, the oldest, scrambled out and took off at a dead run for me, shouting “Nana!” at the top of her lungs. Her little sister, Shyanne, waited impatiently to be released from her car seat and I could hear her demanding “Down! Down, Daddy. Now!’ As soon as possible, she too wiggled her way out of the van and as fast as her little legs could take her, she charged up the walk and into my waiting arms, crying “Naa! Naa” which was how she pronounced Nana at the time.  To say I was pleased to be greeted like that is a gross understatement.

I have often thought of that day and I think that is how God wants me react to him – with unabashed joy, total abandonment, crying out his name. I think my favorite image of my Abba is him stretching his arms out to me and gathering me close, then swinging me around and around with joy, as I did to my little girls that long ago afternoon.

Colossians 1:15 tells us

The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.

Certainly, Jesus, God’s firstborn, exhibited all kinds of emotions when he walked this earth. And he is the absolute image – and pattern – for my Father. I only hope I can grow more like him – whether that means I cry, laugh or just sigh in exasperation at times.  After all, I AM created in his image. What a relief that is!

Thanks, as always, for listening. Caro