Expanding Imagination Of God
Expanding Our Imagination of God
I walked into the office the other day, made myself a coffee, and suddenly remembered another coffee from earlier in the week. Not just the beverage—but a conversation that came with it.
I was meeting with someone from our community, which isn't unusual. People often come to chat about theology, about God, about all the big questions. But this time, the questions were laid out clearly, like a menu:
How do I expand my imagination of God beyond the old man in the sky?
What do I do with the truth I learn from other religions and science?
If all that is true, how do I know Christianity is real—and for me?
These are the kinds of questions that don’t have easy answers, but they make for deeply rich conversations. And I want to share some of that reflection with you.
How Can I Begin to Expand My Image of God?
That old man in the sky? For some, it still carries meaning. For others, it’s more a caricature. But here’s the thing: you don’t have to delete that image to move forward. Maybe you just need to add to it.
One of the most helpful ideas I return to is "transcend and include." As we grow, we don’t need to discard everything behind us. Instead, we can carry it forward, even as we build on it.
This means expanding our vocabulary for the divine. I often switch between saying "God" and "the divine." That’s not a quirk. It’s a discipline, a way to invite my imagination into new spaces. When I say "the divine," I’m nudged out of old metaphors and into bigger, more expansive visions: God as love at the core of all things, God as presence and mystery and energy.
And yes, sometimes God is still Father or Christ or Shepherd. Those are still important to me. But my understanding becomes a mosaic—not a single image, but a collage. So maybe we don’t let go of our old metaphors; maybe we just give them more company.
What About Truth Outside of Christianity?
This is where our imaginations start to really stretch. Because once we let go of the idea that God is only accessible through a narrow lens, we can begin to see divine truth in more places.
Arthur Holmes once said, "All truth is God's truth."
That means that when our Muslim friends speak of mercy, or Indigenous spirituality speaks of harmony with the land, or science reveals the beauty and intricacy of creation—those truths are not in competition with our faith. They're windows into it.
Historically, Christianity has always been at its best when it embraces this. The early church grew by recognizing and incorporating truth wherever it was found. Festivals, language, even the timing of our celebrations often have roots in other cultures. Truth isn’t diminished by difference; it's deepened by it.
Still, we have to be cautious. In our modern context, where Christianity holds significant power, we need to resist the urge to appropriate. Listening, learning, and honoring other traditions without co-opting them is a delicate but essential balance.
At its heart, the Christian story affirms that every human being bears the image of God. And if that’s true, then every person has something to teach us about the divine.
Why Do I Keep Coming Back to Christ?
With all this expansive thinking, it might seem like Christianity is just one of many paths. And in some ways, yes. But here’s why I stay rooted in the story of Jesus.
Two things keep pulling me back:
First, Christianity confronts our human tendency to create insiders and outsiders. We define ourselves by who we exclude. This sacrificial impulse—the need to push someone away to affirm who we are—is ancient. But in Jesus, that cycle is broken.
In the Christ story, God becomes the one we sacrifice. Not because God needs it, but because we do. We see the pattern, we see ourselves, and we begin to repent. We learn to stop scapegoating. We stop needing an enemy to know who we are. This is the inversion of religion—not the god who demands a sacrifice, but the God who becomes one.
Second, the humility of Christ undoes every religious pyramid. We imagine God at the top, elevated and removed. But in Jesus, God descends. Not just to serve, but to be humiliated, to suffer, to die. This is not a God grasping for our praise, but a God who gives everything away for love.
That is the story that shapes me. That is the story I want to live.
Tying It All Together
So here we are. Expanding our imagination of God. Learning from the truth around us. Coming back, again and again, to Christ.
These aren’t separate paths—they are one journey. The more I see of the divine beyond my boundaries, the more I appreciate the unique beauty of Jesus. And the more I sit with Jesus, the more I’m able to see the divine in places I never thought to look.
This is what it means, for me, to follow the way of Christ.
To keep growing. To keep listening. To keep centered on love that gives itself away.
And maybe that’s something we can all share together, one coffee and one question at a time.
