Have you heard the quip that says, "people in customer services understand why Noah only let animals on the ark"? If you’ve had to deal with the ire of someone sent pears instead of apples, or whose order of milk chocolate ginger biscuits was substituted with the dark chocolate version, you will smile knowingly. Sometimes the smallest things can show us to be petty, mean spirited and filled with a rage that simmers just below the surface. The picture isn’t pretty.
But it is not as simple as that, is it?
Change the circumstances and the same people can be generous, sacrificial, encouraging and extraordinarily patient. Aren’t you surprised by the range that lies inside most people? If I am honest, I am the most disappointed by the range that lies inside of me. I am not a scream and rant and rage person, yet I am perplexed by the variety that is within me.
How can the kind and understanding person and the judgmental person live side by side?
In many situations I can be exceptionally sympathetic and genuinely understanding. But then there is that vague line that gets crossed, and I find my attitude hardens, the cynic starts to take over, and I become dismissive of the complex and difficult struggles that some are going through. How can the kind and understanding person and the judgmental person live side by side? I don’t know, but I know that they do, and it bothers me.
For those steeped in Christian theology, none of this is new. You are probably familiar with the imagery of our creation. In Genesis 2:7 we are told that God takes the dust of the ground and breathes it into life. If you want to know what it means to be human it is simple—you and I are the dust of the earth, worth extremely little, of no real value.
If dust speaks of our lowliness, the breath of God speaks of our loftiness.
At your funeral service it is likely that the words “dust to dust, ashes to ashes” will be spoken—for from dust we came and to dust we return. Except that is not the full story. We are alive because we have been birthed into being by the breath of God. If dust speaks of our lowliness, the breath of God speaks of our loftiness. Or as Genesis 1:27 reminds us, we are made in God’s own image. Are we extraordinary, truly exceptional, and in some way the crown of creation? We sure are.
It is a remarkable thing to be human, to be made from God’s breath and in God’s image. This tension is picked up throughout Scripture. After the celebration of our creation (Genesis 1-2) we are confronted with the depth of our fall.
The world’s first parents have raised a murderer.
Genesis 3 informs us of our refusal to obey God’s instructions and of our distrust of God’s goodness. It leads to our expulsion from paradise. Genesis 4 plunges us into deeper despair as we face the world’s first murder, when Cain kills Abel. The world’s first parents have raised a murderer. The friendship of the world’s first brothers is shattered as the one kills the other. It is a grim portrait.
The history of our world recounts our endless warfare with one another. It is a sobering confirmation that this opening portrait is all too valid. Not that the Bible leaves it there. It reminds us that another reality is also at play. Psalm 8:5 informs us that God has made people “a little lower than the angels”—a genuinely impressive status! Psalm 139:14 insists that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made”. Of course we are! We have been made from God’s own breath. It’s the dance between the two that leaves us perplexed.
In each human being you see the fingerprints of both the divine and the demonic.
In each human being you see the fingerprints of both the divine and the demonic. We are confusing creatures. At times we try to deny one aspect of our being. We close our eyes to all that is obviously fallen and insist that we are incredible, amazing and good. When that comes crashing down we swing into gloomy mode and become disparaging of our worth.
We might even note that elephants and rats sometimes display greater empathy than humans. While these observations are interesting, where do they leave us? They remind us why the Bible quietly insists that we are sinful and fall short of the purposes for which God made us (Romans 3:23).
While many respond indignantly to the charge of being sinful, that’s largely because they assume they are being accused of being the worst possible version of themself (“as if I’m Atilla the Hun!”). However, the word "sin" in the Bible most commonly means to fall short of the mark. In other words, I am less than I have been made to be, which is something that every self improvement course reminds us of.
The chaos and destruction caused by that shortfall is met at the Cross of Jesus.
The chaos and destruction caused by that shortfall is met at the Cross of Jesus. His Cross is the place of our forgiveness—our invitation to begin anew, and to do so in relationship with the God in whose image we have been made, and whom we are supposed to represent in the world.
It’s always important to remember our origin story. The biblical narrative points to the God who made us—fearfully and wondrously made us. When tempted to be less than we are made to be, why not probe the possible end of your creation? (And, no, you weren’t "made" to be in a foul mood just because someone nipped ahead of you at the supermarket, or stole the parking bay you felt entitled to!)
If you and I have been made to represent God’s love and goodness in the world, what might that look like today? It’s a genuinely good question. If more of us took it seriously, perhaps we could build an ark in which even humans are welcome.
Originally published by on Brian Harris' Blog. Republished with permission.
Dr Brian Harris, is based in Perth Australia. After decades of church pastoring and 17 years leading a theological college, he now directs the Avenir Leadership Institute, a future-focused consultancy which helps to shape the kinds of leaders the world needs. Brian is the author of seven books, the latest of which are: Why Christianity is Probably True (Paternoster, 2020) and Stirrers and Saints: Forming Spiritual Leaders of Skill, Depth and Character (Paternoster, 2024).
