Years ago I was napping one lazy afternoon and arose from my slumber in a state of exquisite peace, and only one word echoed in my mind, and that term is imago. Imago. Imago. Imago, over and over again nagged my thought life and resounded in my mind for I did not know what the word meant. So I researched the word imago in the dictionary.
1) An insect in the adult stage.
Then I researched the Internet, and it comes from the Latin for 'image.' I further found reference to metamorphosis which means transformation, and in terms of earthly creatures, imago is the final stage of metamorphosis before a winged creature breaks free of its cocoon of prior incubation and thus take flight.
I thought to myself oh Lord, am I finally free to leave the cocoon of the crucible for now, and to take flight as a result of a season of spiritual preparation and maturation?
"They that hope in the LORD
will renew their strength,
they will soar as with eagle's wings."
Upon further research, I found the term Imago Dei , image of God, and reflected upon the idea of the purpose of spiritual metamorphosis to ultimately refine one by the Holy fire into the image and likeness of a living God? As we were fashioned with purity in our mother's womb we inherited the effects of original sin, and the purity of innocence becomes disfigured through sin, and only He can restore us to a new creation in Christ Jesus.
The second definition of imago in the dictionary is:
2) An idealized concept of a parent, formed in childhood and retained within the adult conscious mind(psyche hence soul.)
If the mind is a faculty of the human soul, and therefore a limb or extension of a substantially spiritual entity, then such a seed planted at the moment of human conception, specifically when God breathes his divine breathe of life into a mere mortal, must possess the idea and desire for Abba Father. Is the Father not truly the only genuine concept of an ideal parent, alongside the holiness of our Blessed Mother?
Logically such a concept would indelibly linger in the adult mind, though the conscience may be darkened by sin and thus improperly ordered, such a concept perseveres to resound the insatiable desire to seek out our Heavenly Father. He stamps us with His Divine paternal image, branding our consciences forever, and until we draw our last expiring breath we will never cease seeking the Adoring Face of our royal inheritance and our eternal parentage.
Contemplating and considering this deep yet mysterious notion of truth, all I could do was weep because something so deep penetrated my interior, and the absolute awareness of the deep paternal love the Father has for His little children, a covenant purchased by Christ's blood, the Divine substance of consummate suffering, that is the only stain of love bold enough to write our names in Heaven.
" See upon the palms of my hands
I have written your name;
your walls are ever before me."
The bloody palm bearing the mark of our name reached out from the cross of the dying Christ, and at the moment He grieved, "Father, why have you forsaken me?," in the emptiness of expiration and bankruptcy of the sense of the Father's presence, Heaven opened up and the Father's Hand grabbed the bloody palm of the Son, and our names were Divinely transmitted during that eternal moment of Perfect Sacrifice, and written by the Blood of Jesus sealing our adoption through his redemption. " It is finished!"
We adore you oh Christ, and we bless You, for by your Holy Cross, you have redeemed the world.