Whose Image Do We Bear?
Migration with Dignity | Isaiah 45:1–7 • Matthew 22:15–22
There is a question beneath the political noise of our time—beneath campaign promises, arguments over borders, and appeals to national greatness: To whom do we belong? As we approach the November election during Donald Trump’s second presidency, Isaiah and Matthew confront us with a tension at the heart of Migration with Dignity. Governments claim authority over territory and citizenship. Christian faith insists that every human being bears the image of God. What happens when those claims collide?
In Isaiah 45, God addresses Cyrus, the Persian ruler, as “anointed.” Cyrus is a foreign king, not a worshiper of Israel’s God. Yet God says, “I call you by your name … though you do not know me” (45:4). For an exiled people, this is astonishing. God’s liberating purposes are not confined to one nation, religious institution, or familiar leader. Even an outsider can become an instrument of liberation. But Isaiah is not teaching that every ruler possesses divine approval. Cyrus has a particular role in the return from exile; his power is not unlimited. The passage refuses to identify God with any empire. “I am the LORD, and there is no other” (45:5).
That distinction matters whenever religious language is used to sanctify political power. Christian nationalism risks confusing the interests of a nation with the purposes of God. Isaiah disrupts that confusion: no nation, president, or party can possess God. In Matthew 22, religious and political opponents ask Jesus whether it is lawful to pay taxes to Caesar. Under Roman occupation, this is a question about more than money. It concerns allegiance, domination, and survival.
Jesus asks to see the coin. “Whose head is this, and whose title?” They answer, “The emperor’s.” Jesus replies, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (22:20–21). We sometimes hear this as permission to keep faith separate from politics. But Jesus leaves a deeper question unanswered: if the coin bears Caesar’s image, whose image does a human being bear? Genesis tells us that humanity is created in God’s image. Caesar may claim the coin, but Caesar cannot claim ultimate ownership of the person holding it. No government can confer or erase the sacred worth of a human life.
Political authority has legitimate responsibilities: public safety, law, and the common good. Yet it is not divine authority. When political demands collide with human dignity, followers of Jesus must examine the limits of allegiance. Immigration debates often begin with categories: citizen or noncitizen, documented or undocumented, welcome or unwanted. Such distinctions matter in law, but they do not determine human worth. Migration with Dignity begins elsewhere. The image of God does not disappear at a border. It is not diminished by poverty, language, nationality, or immigration status. It cannot be removed by detention, deportation, or executive order.
Before there were passports, there were people moving in search of life. Abraham journeys toward an unknown land. Israel flees slavery. Ruth crosses a boundary in loyalty to Naomi. The Holy Family escapes political violence. Migration is woven into Scripture and the human story. The Trump administration has made immigration enforcement, detention, and deportation central priorities, describing them as matters of law and security. Those responsibilities deserve serious public discussion. So do due process, family unity, and the consequences of enforcement for communities. Here in Minnesota, congregations and neighbors have accompanied families facing fear and uncertainty, offering food, housing assistance, pastoral care, and legal support. Behind every policy category stands someone’s parent, child, friend, or neighbor.
Our baptismal covenant asks whether we will seek and serve Christ in all persons and respect the dignity of every human being. Those promises are not suspended when the person before us lacks documentation. Perhaps the danger is not that we refuse Caesar his coin. It is that we give Caesar what belongs to God: our conscience, our moral imagination, our capacity to recognize a neighbor. We do so when national identity eclipses human dignity; when loyalty to a leader overrides moral judgment; when the language of law prevents us from asking whether a law is just; or when churches protect their proximity to power at the expense of prophetic witness.
Liberation theology insists that faith be tested in the concrete conditions of human life. It asks whose voices are missing, who bears the costs of our arrangements, and who has power to change them. Migrants must be not only recipients of ministry but theologians and architects of the communities and policies that affect them. The work also reaches beyond border enforcement. War, extraction, poverty, climate disruption, and violence displace people long before they reach a checkpoint. A vision of dignity asks how people might be free to remain safely at home—and free to move when they must or choose to. Elections matter because laws shape lives. Yet the Beloved Community cannot be reduced to a result at the ballot box. We practice it in accompaniment, shared meals, housing, advocacy, truthful speech, and resistance to dehumanization.
Hope cannot mean waiting for someone else to make the world just. Christian hope is grounded in trust that God's life-giving purposes endure; it becomes credible through courageous action now. Isaiah reminds us that God is not confined to empire. Matthew reminds us that political power is not ultimate. Migration with Dignity reminds us that every person carries an image no state can stamp out. So perhaps the question as we approach election day is not only what kind of government we want, but what kind of community we are becoming. When we meet the migrant, refugee, or stranger, whose image will we see?
Caesar may claim the coin. But the neighbor—and even Caesar—bears the image of God. And that changes everything.
The Reverend Rex McKee is a Deacon in The Episcopal Church in Minnesota, serving at Saint John the Baptist. He is a co-leader of ECMN Immigration Caucus, MWD Task Force, Caucus and Episcopal Migration Response Network. Rex describes himself as an aging radical hippie beat poet theologian philosopher peacemaker; “If I start from a place of love, more times than not I will find what is "right," but if I start from a position of "right" I will rarely find love.” You can find more of his writings on Substack: https://rexmckee.substack.com/