For it pleased God, after he had made all things by the word of

“For it pleased God, after He had made all things by the word of His power, to create man after His own image.” Thus spoke George Whitefield, the fiery voice of the Great Awakening, whose sermons once shook the hearts of nations. In these words, drawn from the very marrow of Scripture, he reveals one of the most exalted truths ever entrusted to the human soul — that man was not made by chance nor shaped in darkness, but fashioned by divine intention, breathed into being by the Word of God, and crowned with the likeness of the Eternal. This is not the cold doctrine of a distant Creator, but the living song of love between Maker and made — for it pleased God to create man, not out of necessity, but out of joy, that His glory might be reflected in the mirror of a living soul.

The origin of this declaration lies in the dawn of all things, when the universe was yet silent, and the voice of God broke through the void. “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” By His word, the heavens and the earth were born — the sun to rule the day, the moon to guard the night, the stars to mark the seasons. Yet when all was complete, still the heart of the Creator longed for something greater — not merely a world of form and motion, but a being who could know Him, love Him, and choose Him. Thus, in divine counsel, He said, “Let us make man in our image.” And from the dust He shaped the first of humankind, breathing into him the spirit of life, so that man became not just a creature, but a living soul, stamped with the light of the Infinite.

Whitefield, preaching in the fields and streets of eighteenth-century England and America, spoke these words to awaken hearts grown cold and self-satisfied. He reminded men that they were not beasts of burden nor machines of labor, but bearers of divine image. In an age bound by hierarchy and sin, he called the poor and the powerful alike to remember their sacred origin. To say that man is made in the image of God is to say that every soul, no matter how broken, holds within it a spark of eternity — the capacity for wisdom, love, and righteousness. But it is also to say that such a gift demands reverence, for the image of God can be marred by sin, dulled by pride, and lost in rebellion. Hence, Whitefield cried with tears that man must be born anew, that the divine likeness within him might be restored by grace.

There is a story told of Whitefield’s preaching beneath the open sky, where thousands gathered — laborers, mothers, children, even hardened criminals. Among them was one man, long known for violence and vice. As Whitefield thundered these very words — that man was made in the image of God — the man’s face softened, and tears began to fall. Later he confessed, “If I am made in His image, then I have lived like a beast, not a man.” And from that day, he turned from his sin. This moment reveals the heart of Whitefield’s message: that the remembrance of our divine origin is the beginning of repentance, and the beginning of repentance is the rediscovery of who we truly are — not slaves of earth, but children of heaven.

To be made in the image of God is both glory and responsibility. Glory, because within each human heart burns the echo of God’s own nature — the longing for truth, for goodness, for beauty. Responsibility, because to bear His image is to be His representative in the world. As a mirror reflects the sun, so must man reflect the light of his Creator. When we speak truth, we honor His Word; when we act in love, we manifest His nature; when we pursue justice, we continue His work of creation. Yet when we lie, hate, or oppress, we shatter that mirror, and the world grows dimmer for it. Thus, the highest calling of every man and woman is not to rise in worldly rank, but to live so that the divine image within shines clearly once more.

Whitefield’s declaration also carries a secret joy — that the God who made us in His image also delights in us. “It pleased God,” he said. The creation of man was not a reluctant act but a celebration of divine love. In this lies the eternal mystery: the Almighty, who needs nothing, desired companionship with His creation. He made man capable of knowing Him, that love might be mutual — Creator and creature joined in holy fellowship. Though sin may obscure that bond, grace restores it; though the image may be stained, the hand that made it can make it new again.

So, my child, take this truth as your inheritance: you are made in the image of God. Never forget it, even when the world tries to convince you that you are less than divine handiwork. Live as one who bears that likeness — with compassion, with courage, with purity of heart. See in every face the same sacred imprint, and treat none as worthless. Strive daily to polish the mirror of your soul through prayer, humility, and service, until it shines again with the radiance of its Maker.

For as George Whitefield proclaimed, “It pleased God, after He had made all things by the word of His power, to create man after His own image.” In this truth lies both our origin and our destiny — for the One who made us in His image calls us ever upward, that we might return to Him, renewed and radiant, reflecting His glory for all eternity.