“Was God drunk when he made me?” my daughter asked one night, her voice small but her question enormous.
How do you respond to that? My eleven-year-old with her missing eye, the result of cancer discovered when she was just six months old, wasn’t being flippant. She was genuinely wrestling with why she was made this way.
In that moment, all my seminary training and theological knowledge felt useless. I stammered something about Psalm 139, about being “fearfully and wonderfully made.” How could I help her understand that her worth wasn’t defined by her physical appearance or the cancer she had survived?
What Does “Image of God” Really Mean?
The concept that humans are made in God’s image appears early in Scripture: “So God created human beings in his own image. In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:27-28).
But what does this really mean? I believe that being made in the image of God means every human is an image-bearer of God. Each person is created with purpose—to reflect God’s nature to the world around us. When humankind was created, God declared it was “good.” His goodness is reflected in us.
This isn’t just spiritual poetry. It carries profound implications for how we live and organize society. Every human has dignity. Every human bears God’s image. Every human is valuable to God. Therefore, how we treat each other—regardless of class, race, culture, or any other distinction—should reflect this fundamental truth.
Where We Went Wrong
Yet I look around at the American church landscape and wonder if we’ve lost sight of what it means to honor the image of God in others. Christian communities that proclaim human dignity on Sunday often support policies that dehumanize immigrants on Monday. Churches that preach God’s abundance sometimes seem more concerned with protecting wealth than ensuring everyone has their basic needs met.
How did we get here?
I see a few factors at play:
Fear has replaced faith. There’s a palpable fear of losing cultural power—a belief that if Christians don’t control government, everything moral will collapse. But God did not give us a spirit of fear. When we operate from fear, we inevitably compromise our commitment to see God’s image in everyone.
Nationalism has infected our theology. We’ve blended American identity with Christian identity in dangerous ways. Jesus clearly taught that his kingdom is not of this world, yet many Christians act as though saving America is equivalent to advancing God’s kingdom.
We’ve created artificial battle lines. The fights around hot-button issues like abortion and sexuality have created an “us versus them” mentality. This tribalism makes it nearly impossible to see the image of God in those we disagree with.
Our history haunts us. The “us vs. them” mentality isn’t new in America. We saw it with slavery and segregation. We see it now with immigration and the false narrative that “they” are stealing “our” jobs. These divisions run deep in our national psyche.
Finding Our Way Back
When God looked at all creation, including humans, the declaration wasn’t just “good” but something closer to “exceedingly, abundantly good.” In the original Hebrew, it conveys breathtaking amazement at creation’s beauty. The Creator stepping back, looking at what He’d made, and declaring—”That! That right there! I nailed it and it is amazingly beautiful!”
How do we recover this vision? How do we learn again to see the divine image in everyone we encounter?
1. Start with prayer
When I feel my temperature rising toward another person—especially someone with whom I deeply disagree—I start praying for them. Sometimes it’s as simple as “God, help me see them as you do” or even “Dear Jesus, help me not hate them.”
This isn’t about feeling superior; it’s about asking God to transform my vision. Over time, I begin to see people’s past hurts and present fears. I remember that God loves them and died for them, just as He did for me. We become family rather than opponents.
2. Move beyond isolation
We need to stop isolating ourselves in communities that only reinforce our existing beliefs. This means intentionally exposing ourselves and our children to different perspectives and people.
Read books by authors outside your comfort zone. Watch films from other cultures. Volunteer in communities unlike your own. Have real conversations with people who see the world differently.
When my children ask difficult questions about faith and suffering, I don’t shut them down with easy answers. I let them wrestle, just as Jacob wrestled with God. Their questions often teach me more than my answers teach them.
3. Reclaim loving neighbor as political action
When the expert in the law asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” in Luke 10:25-37, he was looking for a loophole. He wanted the minimum requirements. Jesus responded with the parable of the Good Samaritan, showing that neighborly love isn’t about meeting requirements—it’s about crossing boundaries to show mercy to anyone in need. Even when it’s uncomfortable.
When we approach contentious issues like immigration, we need to move from an “us vs. them” philosophy toward asking: “How do we improve this policy in a way that honors the dignity of all humans involved?”
This isn’t liberal or conservative. It’s Christian in the most fundamental sense.
There Is Hope
Despite everything, I remain hopeful for the American church. Christian nationalism is a destructive force, but the Church isn’t comprised solely of nationalist voices. It also includes people who recognize this idolatry and are calling it what it is—a contradiction to Christ’s command to love our neighbors.
The fact that conversations about human dignity are happening is itself a sign of hope. More and more believers are rediscovering what it means to honor the image of God in everyone.
Perhaps my daughter’s question—”Was God drunk when he made me?”—is one we all need to sit with. Not because God makes mistakes, but because our understanding of human worth has become so distorted. The answer isn’t found in easy platitudes or political platforms. It’s found in remembering that each person we encounter—the immigrant, the political opponent, the difficult family member—bears the image of our Creator.
And that changes everything.
What does “made in the image of God” mean to you? How does this concept shape your interactions with others? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.