Mythology, in its essence, represents a collection of myths woven into the fabric of specific religious or cultural traditions. It often operates on a premise that lacks logical substantiation beyond the mere assumption that supernatural powers exert control over human lives. Yet, a more profound question lingers: why would such powers grant existence to any individual in the first place? In the absence of genuine, two-way communication between humanity and these enigmatic forces, mythology offers little compelling reason for deep contemplation.
Life, in its tangible fullness, presents far more meaningful pursuits than becoming ensnared in such speculative narratives. Human beings possess a remarkable capacity to become so captivated by the extraordinary—by miracles—that they willingly suspend critical thought. This fascination is often a child of ignorance. Ignorance, in its vulnerability, makes belief effortless, and this fertile ground allows the seeds of idolatry to take root and flourish.
Knowledge, in stark contrast, acts as a key that unlocks the mind to continuous learning and genuine understanding. As history unfolds, it reveals a consistent truth: the miracles of one era inevitably become the mundane technologies of the next. This human attraction to the spectacular is readily apparent in the modern religious landscape. Mega-churches, for instance, frequently build their appeal on the magnetic pull of miracles and the promise of the supernatural, often at the expense of providing substantive, educational teaching.
Even the profound lessons of Jesus, as recorded in the gospels, can be overshadowed by the sheer wonder of His works. His miracles drew enormous crowds, but their devotion often proved superficial. When He was led to the crucifixion, the same masses who had flocked to Him for signs and wonders melted away, revealing a commitment that was never truly rooted in understanding. Miracles, when divorced from their deeper meaning, become intertwined with ignorance, mythology, fear, and spiritual darkness—forces that collectively fuel humanity’s greatest challenges.
In parts of Africa, for example, practices rooted in mythic worldviews persist, often alongside the daily, tangible struggle for survival. Progress, therefore, requires a fundamental shift in perspective: the realization that nothing in life is inherently miraculous in a way that suspends our God-given identity and agency. Even the dramatic narratives of Scripture, like Elijah’s departure, fit into this same pattern of human wonder at the unknown.
“As they were walking along and talking together, suddenly a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared and separated the two of them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. Elisha saw this and cried out, ‘My father! My father! The chariots and horsemen of Israel!’ And Elisha saw him no more. Then he took hold of his garment and tore it in two” (2 Kings 2:11-12, NIV).
Elisha, in that moment, did not fully grasp the event unfolding before him. His anguished cry, “My father! My father! The chariots and horsemen of Israel!” reflects a loss wrapped in awe. Today, countless readers see the chariot of fire as an isolated miracle of God. Yet, one must ask: would the same sense of supernatural wonder persist if a modern headline reported that a helicopter had whisked away a revered man of God?
The marvel of Elijah’s story stems not from the event itself, but from a fundamental lack of understanding regarding of who God truly is. Genuine understanding of the Divine begins not with analyzing His acts, but with recognizing the true identity of the person He created. Once that profound self-awareness dawns, the mere fascination with miracles begins to fade. Humanity’s deepest problems stem from ignoring this foundational truth of personal identity—a truth laid bare in the opening chapters of Genesis.
“Then God said, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.’ So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:26-27, NIV).
The creation of humanity can rightfully be called the miracle of all miracles, for nothing else in creation compares to it. Its unparalleled nature lies in the declaration that the Supreme Being fashioned something in His own likeness. The perfection of that Supreme Being is a mystery worthy of deep exploration, deserving of our utmost reverence. However, it would be a fundamental error to assume that the Creator would be impressed by the very thing He made in His image. Such thinking diminishes His transcendence.
Jesus Christ was the singular human being who fully grasped and embodied the meaning of being made in God’s image. The religious leaders of His day, the Jews, rejected His claim, despite their own Scriptures testifying to this very truth. When Jesus declared Himself to be the way, the truth, and the life, He was redirecting their focus.
He was demonstrating that an obsession with His miraculous works caused them to miss the entire point of His mission. Believing in Jesus as the way means surrendering doubt and trusting Him for guidance, not merely for the spectacular. He came to restore humanity to its true purpose, yet disbelief was a persistent obstacle. Many clung to their skepticism, unmoved by either His profound teachings or His undeniable power, and time and again, His spirit was moved with sorrow by their persistent lack of faith.
“A man in the crowd answered, ‘Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth, and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not.’ ‘You unbelieving generation,’ Jesus replied, ‘how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me’” (Mark 9:17-19, NIV).
Unlike many celebrated healers of today, Jesus often expressed frustration—not with human suffering, but with the profound inability of people to grasp their true identity. His mission was never a showcase of divine power for its own sake. His purpose was to help humanity realize who they truly are. What grieved Him most was that so many failed to understand they were created in God’s image—a liberating truth that, if embraced, could free them from the very struggles that plagued them.
The common perception is that believing in Jesus means trusting in His ability to perform miracles. But a deeper, more accurate faith recognizes Him as the perfect reflection of who we are meant to be. As the only perfect and direct image of God described in Genesis, He revealed our inherent worth and potential. Yet, as Jesus lamented, the idea of being made in God’s image was and is often rejected. Many prefer to separate Jesus from humanity, confining Him solely within the abstract doctrine of the Trinity.
This theological distancing traps people in a mindset of idolatry and mythology. It was the mindset of the Pharisees and Teachers of the Law, and it is perpetuated today by those who claim ultimate interpretive authority over Scripture. Then, as now, people often value His miracles over His message, becoming so captivated by signs that they stop thinking for themselves.
In contemporary times, the most celebrated Christian leaders are often those who promise healing and prosperity. This focus, so prevalent in modern preaching, is frequently rooted in the very misunderstanding, fear, and spiritual blindness it purports to heal. The genuine gift of healing, a manifestation of God’s power, should be acknowledged without elevating the human vessel through which it operates to a pedestal of idolatry.
The miracles of Jesus appeared extraordinary only to those trapped in a worldview of ignorance and myth, a state that blinds people to a deeper truth. Just as Jesus grew frustrated, so, too, do those who speak this truth find themselves at odds with a world enamored by the spectacular. The Apostle Paul and his companions in the early church experienced this same frustration when confronting idolatrous crowds.
“When the crowd saw what Paul had done, they shouted in the Lycaonian language, ‘The gods have come down to us in human form!’ Barnabas, they called Zeus, and Paul, they called Hermes, because he was the chief speaker. The priest of Zeus, whose temple was just outside the city, brought bulls and wreaths to the city gates because he and the crowd wanted to offer sacrifices to them. But when the apostles Barnabas and Paul heard of this, they tore their clothes and rushed out into the crowd, shouting: ‘Friends, why are you doing this?
“We, too, are only human, like you. We are bringing you good news, telling you to turn from these worthless things to the living God, who made the heavens and the earth and the sea and everything in them. In the past, he let all nations go their own way. Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy.’ Even with these words, they had difficulty keeping the crowd from sacrificing to them” (Acts 14:11-18, NIV).
Paul and Barnabas could not dissuade the idolatrous crowd, who were more captivated by the miracle they had witnessed than by the gospel message the apostles proclaimed. Even as the apostles tore their clothes in anguish and protest, the people remained stubbornly fixed in their desire to worship them. This incident illustrates how miracles, when misperceived, can become one of the greatest obstacles to the gospel. This dynamic may explain why many regions, including parts of Africa, face persistent challenges despite widespread professions of Christianity.
Unlike Paul and Barnabas, who recoiled from such adulation, many unscrupulous preachers today actively encourage this mindset, profiting handsomely from it. Their fame as miracle-workers creates a powerful disincentive to discourage the fascinated crowds who sustain their ministries. While modern believers would vehemently deny any similarity to the ancient idolaters of Lystra, they often end up functionally worshipping their leaders. These leaders are, in truth, ordinary people, distinguished only by a perceived gift.
The reality is that every individual possesses unique abilities; it is a matter of discovering them. A deep understanding of what it means to be made in God’s image liberates a person from ignorance, empowering them to shape their environment rather than be passively shaped by it. Such a person becomes a cause, an agent of change, rather than merely an effect of the circumstances around them.
“Then God said, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.’ So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:26-27, NIV).
One of Jesus’s most counter-cultural teachings was that true leadership is expressed through servanthood. If His words are taken seriously, there is no Scriptural basis for granting any individual special status or privilege. Instead, Jesus called His followers to a radically different way of living, one that stands in stark contrast to the world’s patterns of hierarchy and exaltation.
“But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have one Teacher, and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one Instructor, the Messiah. The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (Matthew 23:8-12, NIV).
The impulse to elevate one person above another has never originated with God, who created all humanity in His own image, endowing each with equal dignity. Jesus’s teachings on this matter are often unpopular because it feels gratifying to hold a position of leadership, and paradoxically, it can also feel satisfying to worship another person. Leaders are not always solely to blame, as if they forcibly demand reverence. Often, as in the case of Paul and Barnabas, it is the people themselves who insist on placing others in positions of undue authority.
True, ultimate leadership belongs only to Jesus, the one who came to reveal the way. Yet, the path He unveiled leads to a profound truth: having seen the way in Him, the goal is union with the Father. This is the deeper meaning behind His instruction to call no one on earth ‘father,’ for we have one Father in heaven. Grasping this truth becomes more accessible when we understand our own identity as beings created in God’s image. It is, therefore, a profound puzzle to witness people eagerly seeking another mere human to lead them, a pattern as old as Scripture itself.
“So all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah. They said to him, ‘You are old, and your sons do not follow your ways; now appoint a king to lead us, such as all the other nations have.’ But when they said, ‘Give us a king to lead us,’ this displeased Samuel; so he prayed to the Lord. And the Lord told him: ‘Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king. As they have done from the day I brought them up out of Egypt until this day, forsaking me and serving other gods, so they are doing to you’” (1 Samuel 8:4-8, NIV).
The Israelites, chosen to be a light to the nations, were consumed by an overwhelming desire for a human king to rule over them, just like the surrounding peoples. God Himself declared that this was not a rejection of Samuel, their prophet, but a rejection of His own kingship—a pattern of rebellion that had persisted since their deliverance from Egypt. Yet, because of His steadfast covenant love, He never abandoned them.
Their fixation on visible, human leadership was a form of idolatry, and from this root of misplaced devotion, countless other sins would inevitably grow. The lesson endures: the desire for human mediators of the divine, for spectacular signs, and for exalted leaders, often masks a deeper failure to grasp the profound, liberating truth of our own creation in the image of God.
Andrew Masuku is the author of Dimensions of a New Civilisation, laying down standards for uplifting Zimbabwe from the current state of economic depression into a model for other nations worldwide. A decaying tree provides an opportunity for a blossoming sprout. Written from a Christian perspective, the book is a product of inspiration, relieving those who have witnessed the strings of unworkable solutions, leading to the current economic and social decay. Most Zimbabweans should find the book to be a long-awaited providential oasis of hope, in a simple conversational tone.
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