Isn't it amazing that we are all made in God's image, and yet

Host: The morning sun filtered through the cathedral windows, splintering into ribbons of color that danced across the wooden pews. A faint smell of incense hung in the air, mingling with the echo of a distant choir rehearsal. Jack and Jeeny sat near the back, their voices low, their words soft, yet charged — as if the air itself was listening.

Outside, the city stirred, but in here, time slowed — sacred, still, and alive with a sense of reflection.

The quote had been spoken moments before, its meaning hanging like a halo above them:
“Isn’t it amazing that we are all made in God’s image, and yet there is so much diversity among his people?” — Desmond Tutu.

Jeeny: “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The idea that diversity isn’t a flaw, but a reflection of the divine. Every difference — in color, faith, language, or love — is like a stroke on a canvas that only God could have painted.”

Jack: “Or maybe it’s just biology, Jeeny. A random lottery of genes, geography, and evolution. We’re different because the environment demanded it — not because some divine artist decided to make us varied for beauty’s sake.”

Host: The stained glass glowed, casting red and blue shadows across Jack’s face. He spoke with measured realism, his grey eyes steady, calm, but guarded — the kind of calm that hides storms. Jeeny, in contrast, sat forward, her fingers interlaced, her eyes bright, reflecting the sunlight like tiny flames.

Jeeny: “You think it’s all just chance? Then why does our difference so often inspire and move us? Why do we feel awe when we see a spectrum of people singing together, or when cultures merge into something new — like music, art, or love that transcends origin?”

Jack: “Because emotion is part of our survival toolkit. We romanticize diversity because it serves us. It’s useful for evolution — mixing traits, ideas, strategies. But don’t call that God’s image. That’s nature, doing what it’s always done.”

Host: A beam of light shifted, touching the cross above the altar. For a moment, the room felt like it was breathing — the old wood creaking, the air humming with centuries of voices and faith.

Jeeny: “You see the mechanics, Jack. But not the meaning. If we were only evolutionary accidents, why do we crave connection so deeply? Why does love — something that gives no biological advantage in its purest form — consume us? I think it’s because we mirror something greater, something that wove both our differences and our unity together.”

Jack: “And yet that same ‘divine’ diversity has divided us for centuries. Wars, genocide, racism, hate — all born from how we look, pray, or live. If we’re all made in God’s image, Jeeny, then His reflection is broken — or maybe we just invented Him to justify our mess.”

Host: Jeeny’s lips parted, her breath catching, like a flame struck by wind. She looked down, her hands trembling slightly. The choir began singing faintly in the distance, their voices rising — fragile, human, and haunting.

Jeeny: “No, Jack. His image isn’t broken — it’s misunderstood. Diversity wasn’t meant to divide us; it was meant to teach us to love beyond comfort. Desmond Tutu said it — our differences are what make community a miracle. The problem isn’t in how we were made, but how we see each other.”

Jack: “Maybe. But tell that to the history books. Tell it to the slaves who prayed to the same God as their masters. Tell it to the children who grew up being told their skin or love made them less divine. If God’s in all of us, He’s been a silent witness to a lot of injustice.”

Host: The music from the choir swelled, a harmony of voices in different tones, different languages, different ages — yet together, they filled the air with something that transcended logic. It was as if the very sound of their unity was a response.

Jeeny: “Maybe He hasn’t been silent, Jack. Maybe He’s been speaking through the ones who stood up — Gandhi, Tutu, Martin Luther King Jr., Malala. They all saw that our diversity was a gift, not a curse. They heard the image of God not in one face, but in many.”

Jack: “And they died for it. That’s what your divine diversity costs, Jeeny — blood. Maybe that’s not a gift, but a burden.”

Jeeny: “Or maybe it’s a calling — to carry that burden until we learn. Until we see that the God-image isn’t one shape, or color, or belief, but the space between them. The tension, the contrast, the harmony.”

Host: The light through the stained glass deepened, painting their faces — Jack’s in blue, Jeeny’s in gold — like two versions of the same creation, one of doubt, one of faith. The choir’s song rose, the notes stretching, breaking, then returning — diverse, yet whole.

Jack: “You really think God intended all this — the conflict, the contradiction, the chaos of being human — as part of His design?”

Jeeny: “I think He knew it would teach us what He couldn’t force — compassion. You can’t truly love sameness; it’s too easy. You learn love when you’re faced with what’s different, and you choose to see yourself in it.”

Host: Jack stared at her for a long moment, his hands clasped, his brows furrowed — the kind of silence that comes not from disagreement, but from recognition. Jeeny’s voice had softened, but her conviction still shone, like a candle in a storm.

Jack: “So you’re saying diversity isn’t proof that God failed, but that He trusted us — to make something of it?”

Jeeny: “Yes. Maybe the greatest test of being made in God’s image isn’t power, but empathy. He gave us difference so we could practice divinity — by understanding it in one another.”

Host: The sunlight shifted once more, the cathedral now bathed in warm gold. The choir ended, their voices fading, leaving a silence so tender it felt like a blessing.

Jack stood, glancing at the altar, the light, the dust particles dancing like tiny universes in the air. Jeeny rose beside him, her eyes calm, her expression peaceful.

Jack: “You know… maybe we’re not as different as we think. Maybe the image isn’t what’s visible, but what’s shared.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. It’s the spirit that connects the diverse into something divine.”

Host: The camera would pull back now, the two figures walking down the aisle, their footsteps echoing softly through the empty cathedral. The light follows them — Jack and Jeeny, logic and faith, diversity and unity — two reflections of the same eternal image, walking together beneath the same stained sky.

And as the doors opened to the brilliant daylight, it was as if the world itself breathed, reminded again of its amazing diversity, its endless ways of being divine.