26th November 2025
9:01am
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People keep repeating that line - “we’re made in God’s image” - like it’s some cosmic truth carved in stone. But the older I get, the more obvious the real trick becomes: we keep remaking God in our image. Every generation redraws His face the way they want the world to see them.
Right now, we’ve got AI-Shiva with cheekbones that could slice bread, Krishna with a jawline and blue eyes engineered by Photoshop, abs glowing like they’re some model on runway. A Divine masculinity sponsored by the algorithm.
But walk back a few centuries, and the story isn’t so glossy. Imagine a small tribal village at dusk. The upper-caste temple looms somewhere far away, its gates closed to anyone whose feet have touched too much soil, whose hands carry too much labour. The priests have rules. Lists. Boundaries. "You people are not allowed in", and they practice untouchability without any remorse. So these people; the very people who were banned from entering the temple; make their own sanctum, their own Gods.
A pot-bellied Shiva sitting like someone’s favourite uncle. A Krishna as dark as the monsoon; with body hair and scars. Women place flowers around them because these gods look like they might actually laugh with you, not judge you. Men sing bhajans that sound more like lullabies. Children touch the idol’s belly and giggle because their god has one too.
And slowly, a strange kind of warmth fills the room:
not awe, not fear… just belonging.
These weren’t perfect gods. They were human gods. Gods who could sit beside a fire and eat whatever was cooked that day. Gods who danced, God who got tired, who looked like someone’s father or brother or neighbour or uncle.
A God who could exist.
And maybe that’s the point.
Maybe holiness was never supposed to look untouchable. Maybe it was supposed to look familiar enough that you could trust it.
Maybe the most sacred thing is recognising yourself in something divine instead of feeling like you must shrink to deserve it. So yes, let the world chase their airbrushed gods. I’ll keep the ones who look like people. Because a god who looks human is a god who loves without conditions.
