There is a quiet ache that echoes through human history: the ache of not belonging.

From ancient tribal divisions to modern-day polarization, we’ve become skilled at drawing invisible lines – us vs. them, right vs. wrong, worthy vs. unworthy. This act of distancing others, of placing them outside the circle of grace we reserve for “our kind,” has a name: othering.

But the gospel tells a different story.

Made in His Image

Genesis 1:27 reminds us that every person, regardless of nationality, race, gender, background, belief, or behavior, is made in the image of God. The imago Dei is not selectively bestowed. It is intrinsic. Sacred. Undeniable.

To “other” someone, then, is not just a social act; it is a spiritual rupture. It is to deny the divine fingerprint in another. It is to forget that Christ did not die for a chosen few, but for all (John 3:16, Romans 5:8).

When we diminish another’s dignity, we forget who God is. And we forget who we are.

Jesus and the Other

Jesus had every right to remain distant. Holy. Separate.

But He didn’t.

He touched lepers (Mark 1:40-42). He broke social codes to speak with a Samaritan woman (John 4). He dined with sinners, elevated women, honored children, and healed Roman enemies. Again and again, He crossed the boundaries that others had drawn, cultural, religious, ethnic, moral, and said, “This one belongs. This one matters. This one is Mine.”

If Jesus was comfortable with proximity to the other, why aren’t we?

Why We Other

Othering often begins in fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of losing control. Fear of being wrong, displaced, or uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s inherited from our culture or upbringing. Other times, it grows out of wounds we haven’t healed.

But fear is never a fruit of the Spirit. Love is. And love casts out fear (1 John 4:18).

It’s far easier to dehumanize than to sit in the discomfort of difference. But Jesus didn’t call us to easy. He called us to love.

Rehumanizing the World

What if the Church became known not for who it kept out, but for how far it would go to bring others in?

What if we stopped asking, “Are they one of us?” and instead asked, “How can I love them well?”

To rehumanize someone is to see them as Christ sees them. Not as a label, not as a statistic, not as a problem but as beloved.

This doesn’t mean we excuse harm or abandon discernment. Boundaries are biblical. But even boundaries can be held with compassion instead of contempt. Even disagreement can happen with dignity.

A Kingdom Without Lines

The kingdom of God is not tribal. It is table-shaped. And that table has room for tax collectors, doubters, immigrants, addicts, scholars, skeptics, and saints. It has room for you. It has room for me.

At the cross, Jesus didn’t just erase the dividing wall between us and God (Ephesians 2:14)—He also destroyed the wall between us and each other. Every “them” we’ve created, He died to redeem.

So let us be bridge-builders. Let us become a people who refuse to “other” those whom God has called beloved.

And when we’re tempted to draw lines, may we remember: Jesus came to erase them.