Imago Dei
God’s image
Every nation
Every tongue
Every tribe
Everyone
And in each of us, a song.
And that song is like the first song. The one C.S. Lewis and I imagine brought the world into existence. The Spirit hovers over the waters, and there was darkness over the surface of the deep. And ever so slowly, deeply, richly from eternal Perfection comes the song. Living things come to be and join their voices to the music. A response as natural as they to fill the expanse of creation with the song of glory.
But it’s all gone wrecked. So very, very wrecked. We read the stories. We know the stories from the four corners of this aching world. We live the stories of a shattered song.
And yet, this is why we are here. To remember our Imago Dei. To recover the song. To reclaim its every note with our ears relentlessly attuned to redemption.
And we must not forget. We cannot shut out the clear strains of God. No matter how fierce the darkened, discordant noise.
In the U.S., tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. Far and wide families and friends will gather. There will be too much eating and way too much football and, I hope, the giving of thanks.
All over the world, many ex-pats will celebrate in small communities of surrogate families even while oceans away from home. They will establish new traditions and share the old with those from their host culture.
And too, too many will live this day homeless, hungry, in fear for their lives, in bondage, or simply, far from relationship with God.
Yet, this day of Thanksgiving is meant to revive the song. It is to help us unite in our Imago Dei as our lives write the music of Glory.
For in the true song unto Jesus and His redemption, we find the honest notes of our lives, in their heartfelt, aching and broken, reflect the honest notes of the world. And when they rise with gaze upon the unchanging love and goodness of God, they become the song of Thanksgiving.
And this is what God wants to hear tomorrow and always. He wants our grief and sorrow over the world, our world, even as we remember the song; his promised restoration. He wants the simplest places hallowed by thanks.
Thank you for breath.
Thank you for feet to walk.
Thank you for legs to run.
Thank you for smiles (and tears) on little faces.
Thank you for hope and promise.
Thank you for work yet to be done.
Thank you for today…
He also wants us to remember, live in light of, our brothers and sisters. To know that where Imago Dei and His Spirit are, there is a song.
And dear ones are lifting up that song as they work the earth sun up to sun down each day. They’re lifting it up, hands too small, stirring pots too big, face broken open in praise. They’re lifting it up, dungeons marked for horror all around. They’re lifting it up and the gates of Hell will not prevail . He wants us to be branded for this song; this victory too.
He wants our Thanksgiving full of song.
He wants our lives full of song.
He wants this world full of song, His song, once again.
Share a song of thanks in the comments below or share it wherever you go!
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*photo credit olly via fotolia
(I have written a little e-book ‘In Every Story A Song’ which articulates more of these thoughts on ‘the song of the world’. It is free if you subscribe to my blog.)
