Good Trouble is turning 1… enjoy this throwback… One of the most-read articles of 2024.
David lusted after Bathsheba. Watching her bathe, he wanted her. She was no longer a person; she became an artifact, something to collect. David objectified Bathsheba (2 Sam. 11:2).
That's the power of objectification—objectification dehumanizes a person. It robs a person of their dignity, of their worth. People become assets—tools to be wielded or disregarded, depending on our needs and desires.
Objectification is the antithesis of the imago Dei.
It is important to understand the imago Dei. The whole of human ethics is grounded in the imago Dei, which is why, throughout history, the church has been called to champion people, especially marginalized peoples—the vulnerable, the weak, and the persecuted.
The imago Dei promises that all people have an inherent dignity. All people have value, not because of any aspect of their lives or circumstances, but because they bear the image of God. Genesis 1:27 teaches us,
"So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them."
Genesis 1:27 is one of those rare passages that is both descriptive and prescriptive. On the surface, God is describing anyone who has ever been born. Every human being, throughout history, bears the image of God. As CS Lewis said, there are no ordinary people;
"There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously—no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner—no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses."
Your neighbor. The homeless man on the corner. Your Uber driver. The plumber. Your doctor. Your pastor. The dancer on a stage. They are holy objects because they are created in the image of God. The imago Dei is an appeal to see every human being as Christ does: image bearers of the Most High God.
But more than descriptive, Genesis 1:27 is prescriptive. Image-bearing is not just a title—it is a responsibility—it is a calling.
It is a call for justice.
It is a call to defend the unborn.
It is a call to honor and care for the elderly.
It is a call to protect and empower women.
It is a call to end human trafficking.
It's a call to fight racism.
It's a call to celebrate and honor your wife.
It's a call to train up and care for your children.
It's a call to love your enemies.
It's a call to visit the prisoner.
It's a call to mentor the fatherless.
It's a call to feed the hungry.
It's a call to clothe the naked.
The imago Dei demands action. The imago Dei is active love. It is more than valuing others—it is empowering others. Which is why we need Jesus. King Jesus is the True and Perfect imago Dei, "He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation (Col. 1:15)." As Rachel Chester writes,
"Jesus, fully God and fully man, shows us what the image of God really looks like: loving the lost, protecting the vulnerable, and sacrificing for others — even unto death. And, because of Jesus, by the grace of God, we can now walk in newness of life. Through faith in Christ, we are freed from the power of sin and filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, to reflect the image of God, loving and living as Jesus."
Led by His Spirit, we image Jesus to everyone, especially the vulnerable.
She Had a Dad
After seeing Bathsheba, David asks a friend, "Who is that?" Immediately, his friend saw what was happening. Instead of objectifying her with David, he humanizes her,
"Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?" (2 Sam. 11:3)
Bathsheba is a daughter. She has a dad. And her dad, Eliam, loves her. He saw her take her first steps. He sheepishly used to braid her hair. He worked hard to provide for her and her mother. He was a good man.
Bathsheba is a wife. As a little girl, she danced and played and dreamt about her wedding day. And she loves her husband, Uriah. He reminds her of her dad, Eliam. And Uriah loves her. She is his person. She serves him and encourages him in all the right ways. She is his muse.
Yet, David hears none of it. The very next verse, "David sent messengers and took her..." (v. 4)
David’s objectification dehumanized her. She was not a person; she was a possession. Bathsheba is a collectible. Thus, David "took her..." And he killed her husband, Uriah. One of David's mighty men (2 Sam 23), Uriah, was loyal to David. Strong and brave, Uriah was a man of integrity and character. In an instant, like Bathsheba, Uriah became an object—an immovable object that proved to be a thorn in David's side. So David dispatched him. The same military genius that brought David fame and the Lord glory, David used to kill Uriah. Further proof that when satan has your heart, he'll use your gifts too (2 Sam. 6-27).
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There are no more people in this story, only a monster and his possessions. Peter Yonker wrote,
"Lust dehumanizes the other. In fact, lust needs to dehumanize the other. Lust doesn't work when the other person is fully human. That's why exotic dancers always have fake stage names. You would never have a dancer use her real name. Why not? Because that gets in the way of the objectification that lust needs. A man leering at an exotic dancer doesn't want to know her real name. A great way to empty out these clubs would be to stand up before a dancer was about to come on and say,' This is Sultry Susan, but her real name is Mary Wallinski. She has four brothers and sisters. Her parents divorced when she was 5. Her mother is an alcoholic. She has been married twice; her last husband beat her. She has two kids and is struggling to get by. She likes dogs and would love to be a dental hygienist someday.'
That would empty out the room. An introduction like that would short-circuit the lust because it would put intimacy and humanity back into the picture. Lust doesn't want the full humanity of the person, with her needs and her vulnerabilities. Lust wants low lights, a haze of alcohol, and lots of lies."
David's desire removed any trace of humanity from the picture. Far from the imago Dei, David just wants to get laid. Everyone became an object in the hands of a lustful king.
Stories
Mr. Rogers always kept a note in his back pocket. It simply said, "There isn't anyone you couldn't learn to love once you've heard their story..."
David refused to hear Bathsheba's story. He had no interest in Uriah's story. David didn't listen to his friend. To him, everyone in the story was story-less. Which meant they weren't real people. David missed the imago Dei, not because he could not see it, but because he would not hear it. He was deaf with selfishness and desire.
David wouldn't listen.
In the Gospels, Jesus implores us, "Take care then how you hear..." (Luke 8:18). Dr. John Koning says it well,
"Consider Jesus and his conversations. He was a listener, par excellence; the true physician of the human soul! How engaged he was. Observe how he listened to others, asking questions in response. He also listened to what was not said. For he was skilled at drawing others out, communicating sympathy. What would Martha, or blind Bartimaeus, or the woman at the well, or the disciples, say about Jesus? He listened. He never merely listened to words, but he listened for attitudes and he listened for the whole range of emotions. Jesus listened in a way that communicated compassion and care, taking the time to understand others."
By listening to others, we learn who they are. By listening to others, we bring intimacy and humanity back into the picture. Listening gives life.
What prevents us from listening? Four things:
Pride: Arrogance is at the root of poor listening. Instead of listening, we think we know everything about the individual, both their person and their situation. We think ourselves brilliant, so we anticipate what someone will say. We rehearse our responses and think ourselves wise when we finish other people's sentences.
Interruptions and impatience indicate pride. An impatient listener is not able to recognize and engage the imago Dei.
Laziness & Apathy: Listening is hard work. Proper listening requires full attention, focus, and concentration. It's far easier to fixate on ourselves or nothing at all as we nod in agreement, pretending to listen.
Few of us excel at listening because we are lazy. Laziness denies the imago Dei
Distractions: Today, broadcasting trumps conversation. Thus, we are always plugged in, faces buried in keyboards and screens. Noise-canceling headphones might as well be a people-cancelling device.
Our actions and inactions constantly tell those around us that TikTok and email responses are far more valuable than they are. Distractions drown out the imago Dei.
We are Not Taught to Listen: Most of us are listening-ignorant. Again, Dr. John is spot on here,
"Nobody took me aside and taught me to listen. It's one of the most fundamental skills that a human can master. Yet it's not deliberately taught and it's rarely modelled. There are no courses or electives in schools and universities on this fundamental subject. Ironically, where the mode of learning is by and large through listening, we are not even taught how to do it."
Though it is not an excuse, ignorance is real. Ignorance hides the imago Dei.
Ears to Hear
People are not collectibles. They are not objects. People are not projects. People are not a means to self-satisfaction, self-exaltation, or our altruistic need to think we've done something good in the world.
People are people. Created in the image of God, people have worth. People have dignity. Every person you've ever met deserves the benefit of the doubt. They are worthy of love, respect, honor, and encouragement.
People have dreams.
People have plans.
People have problems.
People have challenges.
People have wounds.
People have stories.
Lots of stories. We need to listen to their stories. And in doing so, we might learn to love people. Not for what they might do for us. But for who they are. And in loving them, we become like Jesus, not for their sake, but for our own.
Lord, give us ears to hear.
