The pro-life story starts where they all start…
“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”
One of the first things we learn about God is that he is the creator of everyone and everything. He takes the chaotic, formless, empty, and darkness and begins to create. He takes what is chaotic and brings order. He takes the turmoil and brings peace. He takes what is dark and makes it light.
And the crowning moment of his creation is mankind: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” And it was “very good.”
God made humans in his image to represent him in this new world, to further the kingdom and rule of the Creator. Being made in his image means that every single human being has value, dignity and worth simply because of who their creator is. It’s a value that no one can give or take away.
Living into our true value informs our purpose and identity here on earth. Just like the creator we represent, we are also called to bring light, peace and life to all that is dark and chaotic.
So, how does this intersect with the pro-life movement?
Pro-life should not just be something we talk about as a political weapon. It should be a high value for all citizens of God’s kingdom all the time. We love and value life, and therefore, we should not think that the circumstances surrounding conception need ever determine the value or worth of any human life. We love the mother. We love the father. We love the child. And we long to fight for them, alongside them, and to one day welcome them into the safe, loving, and supportive family of God.
Several years ago, when I was pregnant with my first child, I began volunteering at the Center for Pregnancy. It’s a nonprofit organization that provides resources (including material, emotional, and spiritual support during pregnancy and through the first year of a child’s life) free of charge to anyone in the community.
I always had a heart for the pro-life movement but during my time at the Center for Pregnancy, my eyes were opened to so much I hadn’t seen before.
Many of our clients were caught in cycles of abuse and neglect, facing the overwhelming news of pregnancy with inadequate financial, emotional, and family support. Their choices were often based on fear of rejection or condemnation, helplessness, and feeling unable to survive on their own, let alone bring a child into their current situation. They would often walk in with a heavy load of loneliness, confusion, stress, doubt, anxiety and fear, and yet somehow that would all be mixed with joy and wonder. Many earnestly questioned whether or not they had permission to be excited about the new life growing in them.
The clients became my dear friends as I watched their bellies grow week by week. I felt their babies kick and then got to hold those babies in my arms.
I learned so much during my time there, but more, something actually changed inside of me. I realized that being pro-life was bigger than just being anti-abortion. Being pro-life means we are champions and advocates for the physically, emotionally, and sexually abused; the impoverished, the hungry, the single moms, the orphans, the victims of sex trafficking, the poor, the weak – all who are most vulnerable.
In the heated political climate we find ourselves in, the issue is often portrayed as either supporting the woman or supporting the unborn baby. But as Christians, we know this is not an either/or issue. It’s a both/and. We respect women and we respect the baby. We cannot water down the pro-life movement by confining it to political platforms, because it’s bigger than that. This is a kingdom issue.
“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the rights of the poor and needy.”
– Proverbs 31:8-9
For women who have walked the road of abortion, sometimes just hearing the word can trigger unbearably painful memories and emotions that feel impossible to escape. But as a church, we are called to have the utmost compassion for anyone who has experienced this life-altering pain.
If that’s you, I pray that today you can take a step in your journey of recovery and healing by hearing the unchanging truth of the Gospel. I would encourage you to embark on a journey to meet your Creator who knows everything you have ever done, sees you at your very worst, and still loves you with a compassionate, patient, and merciful love.
If you already know the love of Christ, I pray you will preach the Gospel to yourself today and every day by resting in his grace. No sin is greater than the love of God. Our mistakes cannot outrun the unending fountain of grace he offers. The gospel is offered to all of us, even though none of us deserve it.
For anyone whose life hasn’t been touched in some way by abortion, I pray that you would be an encouragement and strength for those whose have. I pray that you would meet physical, material needs as you can, and that you would continually lead men, women, and children to the only one who can mend these deepest of hurts.
God’s light will always shine brightest in the deepest darkness. May we be people who reflect that light wherever we go.
Human trafficking, or modern day slavery, is one of the darkest realities in our world; a reality that we hope to bring light to as Christians. But how? In this episode, Rachel Chester talks to Kirsta Melton and Mallory Vincent – two attorneys who have been fighting this battle for decades – about what human trafficking looks like, where it is found, and how we can be part of the solution.
I hate to admit it, but I regularly have the discouraging experience of plummeting from amicable pedestrian to hyper-angry maniac.
I can feel my heart rate increasing and my blood pressure going up with it. Indignation burns like a fire in my gut. I want to chew nails, call down curses, slash tires, and scream obscenities.
There it is, right in the middle of the sidewalk. Left there by some inconsiderate, lazy person who evidently thinks they are alone in the world. There it is, smelly and disgusting.
I am immediately outraged.
In an instant, I morph from enjoying a pleasant run to fuming with internal rage.
It happens every time I’m on a trail or a sidewalk and I come across a pile of dog doo, left there by some uncaring pet owner who, I suppose, thinks it’s appropriate to leave a pile so every walker, runner, cyclist, and stroller-pushing mom can walk around it or step in it.
Every time – no exaggeration, every single time – it makes me angry.
I’ve been griping about this for years, mostly in my own head, because most of the time there’s no one around to share the details of how severely I would punish those dog owners.
A sanitized glimpse into the dark monologue in my mind goes like this:
Who do they think they are? Why are they so lazy? Why don’t they think about everyone else who uses this sidewalk? They should have to clean up every sidewalk in League City. They should have to eat it. They should be executed in front of their dog…
I can carry on like that in my head for miles. Sometimes, all I remember about an otherwise pleasant run through a park is my angry monologue. When I get home, I often share parts of my monologue with my wife. She has to hear me present the evidence, convict, and execute the guilty.
But, there is a parallel monologue going on in my head, too.
While I’m venting my internal rage on dog owners, another voice is whispering, “Dude, relax. Take a pill. Why do you let this bug you so much?”
Admittedly, I know my angry internal monologue is not constructive. But, I am not calm and rational when I am angry. Besides, there’s something about indulging in your anger that feels kind of satisfying in the moment. The angry monologue dominates the conversation.
I guess because my small group has been reading a book about anger, I had a strange and repugnant thought occur to me as I approached a pile of dog doo on the sidewalk recently. It was weird and unwelcome and immediately rejected.
The thought I had was, You should stop and clean it up.
That weird thought just added a victim’s dimension to my monologue.
Why should I have to clean up their mess? Why should I be inconvenienced because of their stupidity? Why should I pay the price for their willing, premeditated, inconsiderate gesture? Why?
That one repugnant thought made everything worse because I could never get it out of my head. From that moment on, every time I’d see a pile of dog doo, I’d have my normal angry monologue but with an added side dish of… guilt.
“Why should I?” thinking doesn’t sound like guilt, but it usually is.
You keep asking yourself, “Why should I?” because something inside you knows you should. It makes sense. Anger and guilt are partners. Each produces the other, and each is a consequence of the other. So, I think it’s just easier to claim victim status than to address the possible merits of the repugnant thought.
It’s troubling to admit that I can be so angry and guilty. I’ve known for a long time that anger and guilt are poison to a person’s soul. It’s also troubling because anger and guilt are almost impossible to rid one’s self of, because the reasons for outrage are often legitimate. A lot of times, anger seems like a fair and productive response in the moment. So, we negotiate with our guilt by rehashing why our anger is justified. We go round and round with ourselves and end up where we started: angry and guilty. That’s me when it comes to dog doo on the sidewalk and, unfortunately, in many, more significant moments.
Think about the situations you routinely encounter that make you mad. There are dozens of little everyday annoyances that start some familiar, angry monologue.
You might not see it, but the monologue in your head seeps out. It spills out onto your spouse, your kids, your peers at work, and even the kid bagging your groceries at the store.
Those little routine angry monologues are like tiny drops of poison. Each one seems harmless, but they are not mutually exclusive events. They aggregate into who you are. They are seeds of destructive things: bitterness, gossip, and deceit.
Your anger is quite possibly the most destructive thing about you. It poisons your own heart and then poisons the people around you. But, it’s also the most obvious place for the most obvious growth.
Real growth, especially spiritual growth, is inevitably painful, and often very hard, because the only way to truly repent is to put into practice strange and repugnant thoughts like, You stop and clean it up.
I say painful because if you are like me, you don’t want to.
The book my group has been reading is Good and Angry by David Powlison. In it, the author writes that everyone gets angry, and we very often have legitimate reasons to be angry. The question is, will we respond to our anger in a way that produces good?
That is a humbling, pain-producing, and potentially life-changing question.
Will I respond to my anger in a way that produces good?
Not long ago I was out for an early morning walk. I came upon a pile of dog doo some clown left right smack in the middle of the sidewalk. I immediately opened up the monologue.
“Why are dog owners so lazy? Why don’t they….”
Then I stopped.
I took a deep (mental) breath and asked myself how I could respond to my anger in a way that produced good.
I stood there for several minutes because I didn’t like the only answer I had to the question. I knew just stopping the judgmental monologue running through my mind would not be enough. Avoiding a wrong is not the same as doing something good. Just avoiding a wrong is the very thing that sustains us in our anger and guilt. Telling yourself not to be angry is not the answer, that’s just laying the foundation for getting angry again the next time the same thing happens.
If you want to change and you want to grow, there is only one thing to do.
I made myself do it. I went and found something to use to scoop the poop and put it in a trash can.
I had a different conversation in my head for the rest of that walk through the park. I thought about how I actually just served some other people – the walkers, runners, cyclists, and stroller-pushing moms. I was glad. I responded to my anger by doing something good. It was much more satisfying than rehashing my angry monologue. I know no one else will probably ever know or care, but I do.
Then, I decided that I was going to do it again and even try to make a habit out of being the dog doo remover guy. A simple, very minor, sacrifice is changing how I respond to my anger. Now I think about how making a micro sacrifice of time and energy benefits some unsuspecting person who won’t have to clean a disgusting mess off their shoe.
It’ still exasperating to me to find dog doo on the sidewalk, but now my anger (usually) results in something productive, not oppressive. It is weirdly satisfying to know the sidewalk is a better place after I used it.
Isn’t that how a follower of Jesus is supposed to live?
I know dog poo is a trivial example. I have many more sinister angers that I must address, and so do you. But they all need the same medicine.
At some point, you have to absorb the cost of some other person’s failure.
You have to pay a personal price because someone else was inconsiderate and selfish, or maybe just forgetful.
At some point, you have to figure out how you can do something that is good, and good for other people.
Then, you have to do it.
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.”
You’ve seen it in the news. It fills your social media feed. But the most troubling place to find it is in your home and in your heart. In a season filled with many emotions, there is one that seems to be everywhere today — anger. On this episode, Ryan Lehtinen is joined by Bruce Wesley to discuss what anger is, where it comes from, and how to overcome it before it destroys us all.
A Small Book about a Big Problem by Edward Welch
Good and Angry by David Powlison
A Gentle Answer by Scott Sauls
This is our mid-week opportunity to stay connected online with our pastors to receive mid-week scriptural encouragement, prayer, and updates on how we are responding to the COVID-19 Pandemic.
To find out more information about our church, go to www.clearcreek.org.
As a lawyer, justice is always forefront in my mind.
But even if you don’t practice law, you can see that there is injustice everywhere in our world today. Within our culture, we are inclined to take on an adversarial stance, making every attempt to identify a guilty party, justify those on our side, or oppose any group that seems untrustworthy. Conversely, we may be tempted to wash our hands of the situation completely, like Pontius Pilate, thinking, this has nothing to do with me.
But, as followers of Jesus, we must be willing to courageously take a different path. Biblical justice doesn’t only entail the responsibilities of the government to maintain law and order. Though these concerns are important, biblical justice encompasses much more than punishments; it is also about making things right. True justice is about restoring what is fallen and repairing what is broken—from property to policing, from principles to people.
As we read through the minor prophets, it’s hard not to notice an emphasis on God’s concern for the vulnerable. He consistently calls for his people to enact justice on behalf of those who have been exploited, oppressed, or victimized.
“Thus says the Lord of hosts, ‘Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy to one another, do not oppress the widow, the fatherless, the sojourner, or the poor, and let none of you devise evil against one another in your heart.’”
– Zechariah 7:9-10
God’s perfect justice always holds retribution and restoration together. Because of his covenant with Abraham and Moses, he judged Israel for their idolatry and then rescued them from foreign oppressors and their own sin time and again while continually promising a day of complete justice for all people.
That promise was fulfilled in Jesus, who perfected justice on our behalf. He not only atones for our sins, covering the debt that we owe, but through his death and resurrection, also restores us—the Gentile, the Jew, the Samaritan, the leper, the poor, the outcasts—completely to intimate relationship with God. We are transformed into new people who love and serve one another, freed from slavery to sin and able to live life to the fullness that God created for us.
So what is our response to this type of life-altering, eternally transforming love? Is it simply to be thankful and move on? Or is to be transformed into those who will do the same for others? How can we, saved from the justice that we truly deserve and restored to life in Christ, look away when we see people made in the image of God who are victimized, oppressed, or persecuted?
Our values, behavior, relationships, and hopes are all transformed through Christ as we follow him, reflecting his image more closely each day. As citizens in the kingdom of God, we are called to continue his work of restorative justice, setting the world right to reflect the kingdom of God. Jesus, God himself, stepped in to rescue us in our deepest need. In the same way, we must each lend our position, influence, and voice to serve those who are vulnerable or marginalized, offering the love of Christ and acting in selfless sacrifice for the benefit of those around us.
We live in the already/not yet time of history. Jesus is king over all, and yet sin still runs rampant in this world. We grieve together in the midst of injustice, but we also hope in the return of Jesus. As we wait for that day, we are commanded to live and love as his representatives. It is our call, as missionaries of Christ, to do whatever we can to implement justice.
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.”
– John 13:34
Law school taught me all about our country’s adversarial court system, including its benefits and challenges.
As a lawyer, I know our secular justice system is necessary—imperfect and complicated, but necessary. As a Christian though, my ultimate hope is in the justice of God. The justice of God is greater—it is perfect—in both its requirements and promises.
Jesus, by the grace of God, has fulfilled the requirements of justice and fulfills the promise that all things will made right. God is at work, and as his followers, we must also be willing to sacrifice and serve to bring about his restorative, redemptive justice.
Father, help us to be a people who seek justice in your name. Give us the conviction and courage to step into the mess of this world and the injustice around us, and help set it right — to bring your kingdom to earth as it is heaven.
As I watched the public response unfold after George Floyd’s death on May 25, much of the controversy around the conversation of race and justice seemed distant. The vitriol was coming from politicians and media figures far away. The absurd headlines and offensive memes were being shared by people in other places, with a few exceptions. The hatefulness and ignorance were coming from other communities.
It turns out, I was ignorant too.
When local citizens organized a peaceful protest march in my neighborhood, I was shocked by the hatefulness shared by some in our community. It weighed on me. So I did the only thing I knew to do: pray.
I used social media and Nextdoor to invite others to join me in prayer at our neighborhood park six hours before the protest march. I was shocked again when some in our church and others in our community made assumptions and accusations about my invitation to pray.
It wasn’t all bad news, though. Just over 100 people gathered to pray that morning. I have seen countless posts and news stories showing unity and encouragement in the past couple of weeks, and there is a groundswell of support for reconciliation, healing, and justice.
However, my experience with the invitation to prayer has opened my eyes to a larger rift than I knew existed. I am cautious to wade into the broader conversation because I’m a white man, who has lived most of my life in a predominately white community. My family is white, my closest friends are white, and my life experience is white. But the most important truth about who I am has nothing to do with those things.
I am a follower of Jesus Christ. He is my king. His teachings and his way of life are my mission.
So, as a white Christian writing to other white Christians, here are three things I would like to share.
We have an opportunity
We can’t fully understand the hurt our black brothers and sisters are experiencing, but we can listen with humility and openness. The sad truth is, statistically, we aren’t great at this part. The Barna Group, an evangelical Christian research organization, published an article based on their findings that is worth reading. Barna VP of research Brooke Hempell says, “More than any other segment of the population, white evangelical Christians demonstrate a blindness to the struggle of their African American brothers and sisters.”
Wait…what?!? I don’t want that to be true of me. Do you want that to be true of you? Unfortunately, it is true of us.
But, do we want it to continue?
The first step we must take is to lean in and listen intently. What does that look like? It means seeking out conversations with black people in our lives. It might also mean reading things we wouldn’t normally seek out, or watching documentaries that make us uncomfortable, or exposing ourselves to things we disagree with or that offend us. This will take time and we should expect to be uncomfortable for a season, not an afternoon. Listening and learning will help us know how to take the next step.
We have an opportunity in this season to listen. To listen is to love, and love is what will change the world. Love has already changed each of us. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son…” (John 3:16a).
Race and reconciliation are not either/or issues
A false dichotomy exists in today’s either/or narrative and it should stop with us. We cannot participate in, or perpetuate, the division portrayed in the news media and on social media. There is more nuance to these issues than a meme can communicate. And nuance requires patience, thoughtfulness, and respectful conversation.
If we are going to listen in love, then we should be quiet long enough to understand all that is being said.
An easy example is to consider the difference between “black lives matter” and Black Lives Matter. One is a humanitarian statement defending the value of life, the other is a political organization with a specific agenda. Every Christian should fully endorse the statement “black lives matter,” but most Christians will find it difficult to support the full agenda of the Black Lives Matter political organization (e.g. the legalization of prostitution).
The conversation about race and reconciliation has become politicized and polarized, and we have been led to believe that there are only two sides to choose from. This is not true. These issues are multi-faceted.
Refusing to accept this false dichotomy should cause us to listen intently without assuming we understand all that is being said. It will also free us up to evaluate each facet of the conversation biblically.
This will help us as we consider the differences between protesting and rioting, police brutality and #backtheblue, inequality and privilege, and a hundred other parts of the conversation.
We must rise above the polarization and politics. The stakes are too high. We must embrace reconciliation as a both/and issue – as a gospel issue.
We must do something now
Jesus summed up God’s expectations for all of his people by teaching that the two most important things we must do with our lives are to love God with all that we are, and to love our neighbors as we love ourselves (Matthew 22:34-40). When asked to define what a neighbor is, Jesus told the parable of the good Samaritan – a story that shows everyone is our neighbor (Luke 10:25-37). Jesus took special care to break down the division of race for his followers.
White Christians, we must love our neighbors who are a different race from us. We must love in active, sacrificial, and uncomfortable ways. We must love humbly like our Savior loves (Philippians 2:5-8).
After listening and learning, we must engage the issues. We cannot sit on the sidelines! But we have to engage the issues like Jesus would. How did Jesus engage the world around him? He loved the broken and the hurting. He befriended the zealot. He washed the feet of his betrayer. Jesus forgave his executioners. He touched the leper. He wept with the grieving. He loved without pretense, prejudice, or politics. These examples show us that Jesus put the person above the problem.
What if you made it your mission to love like Jesus did?
What if white Christians across our community went all-in on this type of Jesus movement?
What if God used us to be part of the peace, healing, unity, and justice so badly needed?
What if God used you?
“By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.”
– 1 John 3:16-18
Want to listen and learn? There are a lot of resource lists available online. Check them out. I don’t think you can go wrong. Don’t know where to start? I like www.bethebridge.com
Last Tuesday afternoon, one of Clear Creek Community Church’s pastors informed our Executive Team of the developing news concerning a man named George Floyd. According to a bystander video, Mr. Floyd, a native Houstonian, died as a result of treatment by some Minnesota police officers. The next day gave way to further details of the tragedy. I was heartbroken and posted to my social media accounts:
Grieving with our fellow black Americans who feel like this is the same horrible, deflating, despairing song that’s still stuck on repeat. Grateful for a better kingdom that comes. Come quickly. #GeorgeFloyd
In 2017, Clear Creek did a sermon series on race and racism where, on one of those Sundays, we spent time listening to a panel of four black pastors who shared their experiences of racism in America. It was an eye-opening, sobering, and needed conversation for the people of our church to be a part of. Since then we have preached other messages with applications addressing the sin of racism, but nothing has stood out to me as much as listening to those friends share their stories of heartbreak, despair, and disenfranchisement (as well as their hopes for the future).
I needed those voices.
Their experiences of racism, which they confirmed were generally the rule instead of the exception, are ones for which I have no personal context. I have never had rocks hurled into the windows of my childhood home with messages of hate attached to them. I have never been detained by authorities with weapons drawn as I was simply retrieving something from my car trunk. I never had families quickly scatter to the other side of the street when they saw me walking toward them going to eat lunch at a nearby restaurant.
Once again, my black friends patiently remind me that this is par for the course for those in the black community.
That’s why when the recent events of Ahmaud Aubrey and now George Floyd occur, the emotional dam breaks and all the pain and sorrow flows once again from people of color. It’s not just about the details of one event or another but what they represent: the relentless injustice of what daily life in America feels like for the black community.
My social media feed was a cascade from my black friends of sorrow, anger, and cries of “How long, O Lord? How long?”
How long will a people endure injustice? How long can followers of Jesus outside the black community be inattentive to the cries of their Christian brothers and sisters of color within it? How long will it be until believers live out the kingdom of the gospel as it respects race regardless of what it costs them politically, relationally, socially, or financially?
There are many places to learn how followers of Jesus can better live out the gospel as it concerns race. I encourage you to figure out which steps the Spirit might lead you to better love your neighbor in this endeavor. A good place to start is by simply grieving with those who grieve (Rom. 12:15). Add your voice of support to the despairing masses who feel the crushing sorrow of what feels like another brutal, gut-wrenching reminder that things are not the way they are supposed to be. It could be as simple as dialoging with your friends of color about how they are doing and how you can love them well.
We, the leadership of Clear Creek Community Church, grieve with our black brothers and sisters within our church and also our black friends outside it. We hope that swiftly there comes a day where the stories of hatred and brutality come to an end, and we also hope Clear Creek Community Church can be a partner toward that end as it glorifies the kingdom and King Jesus who brings it.
You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.
– Matthew 5:14-16
 I use the term “Black community” instead of “African American community” because of some conversations with my black friends who believe the former term to be an inaccurate descriptor of the origins for many black Americans today.
*I wanted to write this because Clear Creek recorded the elements for the May 31st service before the events of George Floyd had come to the surface nationally. Because of this, we intentionally addressed the racial tensions of the nation in our pre-service “lobby time” Sunday morning. However, those who didn’t participate in that time would likely think we went the entire day without addressing this important, national issue. We did not, have not and, God-willing, will not.
Throughout history, the church has been called to be the champion of the vulnerable, the weak, and the persecuted.
This call for justice — whether to fight racial discrimination, defend the lives of the unborn, or end human trafficking — is an appeal to see every human being through the eyes of the Christian narrative which proclaims mankind’s creation in the image of God, or imago dei.
This truth is the foundation for all human rights.
All people have inherent dignity (i.e. are valuable) not because of any aspect of their lives or circumstance, but because they bear the image of God. Although human dignity found within the imago dei is often enough to convince people to avoid harming others, it does not always move us towards active love. In order to move towards the empathy, sacrifice, and desire for justice we are called to as God’s people, we have to understand the depth of what it means to be made in God’s image. It can be easy to downplay the significance of the imago dei, but it isn’t merely a reason to value others. The Bible tells us:
“So God created mankind in his own image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27)
In the beginning, men and women were created by God to reflect his character and represent him in this world, but because of the Fall, this image was corrupted. Humans no longer reflected the character of God to each other as intended. Instead, men and women set up their own rules and ways of life, harming one another and persecuting the vulnerable, no longer loving and ruling as God had ordained.
Even the nation of Israel, the Old Testament people of God, did not reflect the love of God toward each other, despite continual commands from God to seek justice and protect the weak. We just cannot live and love as God created us to on our own.
But, a Savior has come in whom we see the true and perfect imago dei.
“He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” (Colossians 1:15)
Jesus, fully God and fully man, shows us what the image of God really looks like: loving the lost, protecting the vulnerable, and sacrificing for others — even unto death. And, because of Jesus, by the grace of God, we can now walk in newness of life. Through faith in Christ, we are freed from the power of sin and filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, to reflect the image of God, loving and living as Jesus.
“For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.” (Romans 8:28)
Imago dei requires us to view all people as having inherent value and dignity. However, the imago dei is not only descriptive, it is prescriptive.
Image-bearing is not just a title, it is a calling.
We — those walking in the footsteps of Jesus — defend the rights of the unborn because every life is valuable. We should also care for orphans because we are representatives of God in his kingdom. We — the church — refuse to persecute the vulnerable because every person bears God’s image and has inherent dignity. We should also protect and love the persecuted, because as we are conformed into the image of the Son, we reflect his compassion and sacrifice.
One day, Jesus will return and make all things new: a restored world and perfect justice for all.
We rest in this certainty.
Until then, we live in the already and not yet, where there is uncertainty, injustice, and suffering.
Let’s remember that we were created in the image of God – a description of all people, and a call to Christians to be conformed into the likeness and love of our Savior,
Let’s spend less time creating our own rules and ways of life, and focus on reflecting to others a glimpse of what the kingdom of God looks like: peace, love, unity, and justice.
Let’s cling to Jesus.