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My search of the Scriptures turned up only two passages related to the proper treatment of image bearers. The first was in James: "With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God's likeness. … My brothers, this should not be" (3:9-10). This set a boundary: I was not to slander the boy.

The second reference was all the way back in Genesis: "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; for in the image of God has God made man" (9:6). This set me another boundary: I shouldn't kill him.

By Christmas, it had become difficult for me to keep either command. Because I was completely stymied by Stewart's conduct, I found some consolation in recounting his bad behavior to my fellow teachers. All of them had had him in class. They understood. And while I never seriously considered offing the kid, I was frequently horrified by how tempted I was to violence: to shake him or spank him or at least sting him with rebuke. The passages from James and Genesis only told me what I couldn't do. But they chastised me nonetheless. They set necessary limits.

Then the Holy Spirit did a remarkable thing. He brought two biblical concepts together for me in a way I had not considered before. I read these words from the apostle Paul: "[Christ] is the image of the invisible God" (Col. 1:15a), and "we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory" (2 Cor. 3:18).

Together these passages helped me to recognize two things. First, for the most part, the New Testament does not speak of humans bearing the image of God. It speaks instead of Jesus incarnating the perfect image. And it speaks about people being transformed into the image of Christ. That suggests that the image of God is not simply something I have; it's something I am called to embody in increasing measure.

This realization put me in good company. The Reformers were convinced that humans all but lost the divine image after Adam's fall in Eden. There remained echoes of God's likeness in every person, but the divine image was, in John Calvin's words, "frightfully deformed." The only way to restore it was to be hidden in and transformed into the likeness of Christ, the perfect image. Martin Luther explained that God "takes pleasure in restoring this work of his [humanity in his image] through his Son and our Deliverer, Christ."

The upshot was this: I realized that my behavior toward Stewart should not be determined by his status as an image bearer, but by mine. Jesus alluded to this when he commanded his disciples to love their enemies. Why? Because as "sons [and daughters] of our Father in heaven," we are to be perfect as he is perfect. In the context of this passage, being perfect means treating the unrighteous just as you would treat the righteous—not on the basis of their sin but based on your "perfection." For me, this meant that I was called to bear the image of God to Stewart, however he behaved.

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July 2009, Vol. 53, No. 7