One week this spring, my Instagram feed served up: A detail from a ground-breaking cellular-level map of a cubic millimeter of the human brain, showing a single neuron connected with more than 5,600 nerve fibers. The ebullient smile of a 9-month-old relative. And the lifeless, emaciated body of a child in Gaza. Awe. Joy. Horror. I keep thinking of them all.
We hold babies we love, stare into sparkling eyes, and can almost see the wonder of their becoming, the miracle of a brain building myriad connections in a split second. We study soft faces that carry the genetic whispers of ancestors known and unknown. We become acquainted with tiny beings who are also full, unique people, revealing themselves more every day. Christians believe humans are made in the image of God. But how often do we meditate on that radical miracle? Recall holding someone in your arms who is unable to care for themselves and is utterly vulnerable, and yet blooming with infinite potential. Imagine God holding us and seeing the same thing.
In our brief moments of connecting with God, are we able to glimpse what it’s like to live as if imago dei were true? To understand for even a fleeting moment that “in the image of” is, in divine grammar, a verb, not just a noun, the signal flow between created and Creator? We are not just autonomous identities to God, who invites us to hold all human beings in that nexus of tenderness, love, and mystery that a beloved child engenders in us.