Truly Human

Part 1

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INTRO – “Truly Human”

Let me ask you a question that’s more personal than it sounds:

What does it mean to live truly human?

Not just to exist—but to live with purpose. With clarity. With dignity.

Because we’re living in a time where how we live out our humanity is argued.

What it means to be male or female.

What love looks like.

What relationships should be built on.

How we use our bodies.

So What is true, and who decides?

These aren’t just cultural questions—they’re deeply personal ones.

Because for many of us, our humanity has been shaped not by creation, but by confusion.

Not by God’s design, but by broken systems, personal wounds, and distorted messages from every direction—church included.

And here’s the tension:

As Christians—we believe that God created humanity with intention.

“So God created humankind in His image… male and female He created them.” (Genesis 1:27)

That wasn’t just a biological event. That was a theological moment.

He didn’t just create bodies—He gave us identity, dignity, and design.

But sin didn’t just ruin our morality—it distorted our humanity.

It cracked the mirror. It blurred the image. It introduced pain into our purpose.

So the real question isn’t, “Are you human?”

The real question is, “Are you living in the fullness of what God intended when He made you?”

This message is not about calling people out.

It’s about calling people back.

Back to the One who made us.

Back to the image we were created in.

Back to what it means to be truly human.

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Verbal Inspiration

Thought Inspiration All in all the bible is very much like a cracked mirror.

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MOVEMENT 1: The Image We Bear (Genesis 1:27)

Key Thought: Before sin, before shame, before confusion—we were made with divine intention.

When Genesis 1:27 says:

“So God created humankind in His image; in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them,”

it’s not just giving us a backstory—it’s giving us a blueprint.

We were made in the image of God.

Not in the image of culture.

Not in the image of family expectations.

Not in the image of trauma, social media, or even church traditions.

The image of God

That means something.

It means that our humanity is not random or accidental.

It means there’s dignity in your design—even if your life hasn’t always felt dignified.

And notice this:

God didn’t create humans as just souls floating around.

He gave us a body and put his spirit in that body.

And when God created them, He didn’t just say they were “fine.”

He looked at what He made and said: “Very good.”

Before the Fall. Before distortion. Before categories became complicated.

There was goodness. Wholeness. Harmony.

That “very” goodness wasn’t earned.

It wasn’t based on behaviour.

It wasn’t based on how they choose to live,

It was built in.

So based on the that fact, I’m here to tell you today that his goodness is baked into you.

Application Point:

If we don’t start with design, we will always misdiagnose the distortion.

You can’t understand what’s broken until you understand what was meant to be whole.

So before we talk about what’s gone wrong in the world, in our culture, or even in our churches—we’ve got to start here:

You were made by God, in His image, on purpose, for good.

That truth holds, even when the mirror is cracked.

So what is the image that we are supposed to be mirroring?

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MOVEMENT 2: The Image Distorted—but Not Abandoned

(Divine Plurality)

Let’s pause again on

Genesis 1:26 NRSVue

Then God said, “Let us make humans in our image, according to our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over the cattle and over all the wild animals of the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.”

That phrase—“Let us make…”—has baffled scholars, theologians, and saints for centuries.

And it should.

Because it invites us into a truth that can’t be neatly packaged or singularly defined:

God is not simple. God is not confined. God is not flat.

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Elohim: Plurality Beyond Comprehension

The word used for God here is Elohim—a plural noun used to describe the One true God.

And that plural name isn’t a grammatical accident or a poetic flourish.

It’s a declaration:

God cannot be reduced to your categories.

He is not limited to your denomination.

He does not fit inside the boundaries of your personality type.

He is not confined by your culture, your century, your system, or your logic.

We use doctrines, frameworks, and language to do our best.

But those are scaffolds, not prisons.

God is omniscient and omnipresent—He can dwell in 1925 and 2025 at the same time.

He can exist in places you’ve never been, speak languages you’ve never heard, and reveal Himself in ways you’d never expect.

To say that God is singular would not only be theologically inaccurate—it would be theologically insulting.

It would suggest that God can be wrapped up in your understanding.

That He’s subject to you.

…That He’s subject to you?

No.

The Elohim is not subject to your imagination, your denomination, theological position, or your language.

Oh—and by the way, “He”?

Since when is God a He?

Yes, Jesus came as a man in flesh—He walked among us, He was crucified, He rose.

You wouldn’t be wrong to call Jesus “He.”

But God the Father? God the Spirit?

Let’s not pretend the Godhead is bound by gender.

The word used for Holy Spirit in Hebrew is ruach—it means wind, breath.

Tell me—can you gender wind?

Can you bottle and box up breath?

These are not male terms. They are sacred ones.

We project our own categories onto God and then become unsettled when He doesn’t conform.

But the Elohim is not here to meet your expectations.

The Elohim is here to redeem your life.

A friend of mine—a pastor in the UK—once went to visit a woman with his wife.

Her story was harrowing. Abuse. Neglect. Violence. All from her father.

But what brought them to her home wasn’t just her trauma—it was the fact that her father had taken her son.

Four days. No one had heard from them. It was desperate.

When they arrived, it was the woman’s mother who opened the door and brought them in.

And there she was—in the living room, broken.

The moment she saw him, my friend, —she recoiled. Flinched.

Her body had been taught that male presence equals danger.

Her mother immediately wrapped her in a fierce embrace, rocking her like a child.

She wept in her mother’s arms.

And my friend?

He did the only thing that made sense—he backed up.

He moved to the far end of the room, creating space.

For the next two hours, he said nothing.

It was his wife who sat with her. Listened. Held her. Let her cry.

And when it was time to pray, my friend didn’t lead.

His wife began:

Without one of the most transformative prayers I’ve ever heard.

“Dear Mother, hold your child and pour your lovingkindness all over her.”

That’s probably one of the most Spirit-filled prayers he’d ever heard.

You see—his wife understood something theologically and pastorally profound:

This woman could not meet God as “Father” that day.

She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t able.

But she could meet Elohim—the God who transcends gender, who shows up in the form that heals, not harms.

And one day—maybe later—she would come to learn that the Father’s heart of God is nothing like the father who failed her.

But in that moment, the only way God could reach her heart was as Mother.

Because that’s who Elohim is:

Not confined. Not small. Not bound to your labels.

The Elohim will show up in forms you cannot predict—because His mission is not to be recognised or even fully understood, it’s to redeem.

He’s on a mission to open blind eyes.

To help the lame walk again.

To breathe life into dead souls.

And He will use whatever form heaven requires to meet you where you are.

The beauty of God’s plurality is that He will be to you what you need in order to be saved.

That’s not compromise.

That’s mercy.

That’s love.

That’s power.

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MOVEMENT 3: The Image Restored—But Not Replaced

We’ve seen the image we bear.

We’ve named the image we’ve distorted.

Now it’s time to talk about the image God restores—not by replacing what’s broken, but by redeeming it.

Let’s go back to that mirror.

When a mirror cracks, you don’t forget where the cracks are.

You can still see them. They don’t go away.

They don’t magically smooth out just because light hits them again.

But when light does hit a cracked mirror—something stunning happens:

The cracks catch the light too.

They glint. They shimmer. They testify.

They become part of the beauty, part of the story.

God is not in the business of giving you a new mirror.

He’s in the business of restoring the reflection in the one you already have.

We as SDA’s believe that the Bible

The Gospel does not erase your story.

It redeems it.

It doesn’t hide your past—it uses it as a canvas for grace.

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That’s what baptism is.

It’s not where you pretend the cracks aren’t there.

It’s not where you hide the parts of your humanity that feel unworthy or unresolved.

Baptism is where you bring the entire mirror—scratches, splinters, cracks and all—

and say, “Lord, reflect Yourself here.”

And God does.

Because He’s not ashamed of your cracks.

He’s not confused by your past.

He’s not threatened by your questions.

In fact, the cracks become evidence that you’ve lived.

That you’ve endured.

That God met you in the mess and decided to shine through it anyway.

🙌🏾 To those getting baptised today:

You’re not stepping into perfection.

You’re not leaving your story behind.

You’re stepping into a new way of seeing that story.

You’re saying, “God, even in my broken reflection—let them see You.”

And to everyone else watching:

Maybe you’ve been waiting until your cracks are sealed.

Until your past feels less heavy.

Until your identity feels clearer.

But let me tell you—you’re not disqualified because of the cracks.

You’re qualified because of the grace that’s willing to shine through them.

So the question isn’t:

“Do you have cracks?”

The question is:

“Are you ready to let your mirror reflect the image again?”

The invitation stands.

To live truly human.

To be known. To be cracked.

And to be loved anyway.

And it’s why baptism isn’t just about affirming a doctrine.

It’s about responding to a God who came to you in the form you could understand, who met you in your mess, and who now calls you into your true design.

Here is the miracle of the Gospel:

This eternal, infinite, plural God—chooses to reveal Himself.

Not all at once. Not in a flash.

But gradually, graciously, patiently.

Which means this:

You will never stop discovering God.

Not now. Not in 10 years. Not even in eternity.

Heaven isn’t the end of the journey—it’s the beginning of the unveiling.

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Baptism Is the Yes to Discovery

So to those getting baptised today:

You’re not stepping into certainty.

You’re stepping into mystery.

Into relationship with a God you’ll never fully explain but will forever explore.

You are saying yes to being Truly Human. Not by the world’s definitions. But by the image of a God who meets you where you are, and calls you into who you were always meant to be.”

You’re saying, “I don’t need to have God figured out—I just need to be faithful to what He’s revealed.”

And to the rest of us:

This is our invitation too.

To lay down our small definitions, our tight theological boxes, our rigid expectations—and let the God of divine plurality stretch our hearts and reshape our humanity.

Cracks and all.