The Fingerprint of God

My husband and I have two children.  Two children who, many have insisted, remarkably resemble us both. If we were to test their DNA, there would be no doubt they were our children.  They share most of our characteristics: nose, eyes, round cheeks, height (or lack thereof), and sometimes even our competitive nature and stubbornness. They are obviously the offspring of their parents; however they are equally their own people.  In as much as they bear the resemblance of us, they are just as different in appearance and personality.  Whether we produced two children or twenty, each would be unique inside and out. 

Before men and women ever bore children, before babies were delivered and parents looked in admiration at such miracles, God created man (men and women) in his own image.  Just as our children starkly reflect us, we are a reflection of our Creator.  You can say that we possess His DNA.  Yet, in all His creation He designed each and every one of us uniquely. There is not one individual who ever lived or ever will live on this earth with your exact facial structure, with your exact build, with your exact DNA, with your exact fingerprint.  Out of the billions of individuals designed and created by God, not one is the same as another.  All are created with the same basic facial structure yet all are individually recognizable. This is astounding!  This is incomprehensible!  This is, in the words of the Creator, “very good.”

As I meditate and reflect upon this, I am captivated by the creativity and attentiveness God imparts to each and every individual child of His.  Because I am His, I bear His image.  I bear His likeness. I bear His characteristics.  He is my daddy, I His daughter. He is my Creator; I am the fingerprint of God, and there is no other fingerprint like me. As a child’s hand leaves smeared prints on glass, so my print is left wherever I venture.  Whatever or whomever I touch is left with my fingerprint. In a world of fingerprints, there is none like mine!  I envision my Father’s excitement looking about, identifying each and every fingerprint I have left behind, each and every life I have touched. My jealous, passionate Father, keeping close eyes on my every move, whispers, “This is My beloved.”