Made in God's image

It is in the Bible that we are taught that man is made in the image and likeness of God. It is for this reason that we ought to conclude that the most horribly disfigured and brain damaged of people and the most gifted and beautiful should be accorded the same fundamental love, respect and dignity by their fellows. I cannot for the life of me see how a thorough-going evolutionist can say such a thing without blushing out of embarrassment. I have for many years taught children that it is not their intelligence, beauty, strength, wealth or any other characteristic that makes them of any value in God's sight. (Of course there is the matter of our utter lostness and sinfulness to be regarded as well - but that is another question).

It is one thing to teach these things and another to feel them for oneself, particularly in time of need. In my hospital bed there were often times at which I had to recall the truth that my value lay in the fact that I am made in God's image and that I have been redeemed from my sin by the precious blood of Jesus Christ. The first time I needed this awareness was when I sat up in bed on Day two (of my stay) and wanted to adjust it. This should have been a simple matter of pushing a couple of buttons. But I couldn't do it. Whatever order and whatever combination I attempted had no effect. My frustration was compounded by the thought that I oughtn't to call the nurse away from her business for such a little thing. Yet I pathetically/helplessly put my hand up and mouthed a request for her to come. Thankfully she didn't see me. So what did I do? I started to weep (sorry). I thought of myself as a reasonably intelligent 48 year old man who is quite techologically aware and yet I couldn't even raise my bed. I know that the trauma of just having had major surgery had something to do with all of this but they were my thoughts at the time.

The first meal I had was at about 6 o'clock on Day two. I looked at it and started to give thanks to God for it. But then - guess what - I started to weep (this is getting ridiculous). Why? Because I had a catheter - that's the urine taken care of I thought - but I was about to take solids and - what would happen then? Would I mess myself in the night? Anyway, I ate and sat up to read and write. I didn't sleep a wink the entire night. During that night I called the nurse to tell her that my bowels were terrorising me (don't laugh!). The reason for this ridiculous fear was that I was aware of the condition of incontinence and the fact that in some cases there is no feeling when passing. "Would this happen to me?" I thought each and every time my tummy rumbled. I was later curtly (but kindly) reminded by Pauline that in giving birth women are often not in control of their bowels either - so I should just "deal with it". Why go into so much detail about this? Because again, my value as a human being does not depend one iota on how much I am in control of my bladder or bowels. Simple as that! It might be distressing, embarrassing or inconvenient to lose control but it has no fundamental significance. As a baby I had no control and if I become incontinent as an old man I will have no control - but I will still be a person made (and being remade) in God's image.

At several points I had trouble speaking, hearing and seeing as my brain "settled". But the more I took hold of the truth the less I was troubled. The lack of any of those powers does not affect my status at all. Needless to say then, that as I contemplated whether I would work again or whether my personality would change (as is frequent in such cases) the same truth came to comfort me in my thoughts and feelings - I am made a little like God and he sent his Son to redeem and restore my pitifully fallen soul. How wonderful is that?