What Makes a Human Valuable?

The Theology We’ve Preached But Haven’t Practiced

I was reading another article about AI and automation last week when I realized something that I can’t shake.

The world is about to ask the church a question we should be uniquely qualified to answer. It’s a question that’s always been true, but our economic systems have let us avoid it. A question we’ve been answering for 2,000 years.

But I’m not sure we’re ready to answer it when the world is actually listening.

The question is simple: What makes a human being valuable?

Not “What makes a productive human valuable?” Not “What makes a skilled human valuable?” But what gives any human—the elderly, the disabled, the child, the unemployed—inherent, unshakeable, permanent worth?

For most of human history, this question has been largely theoretical. Yes, we’ve had people who couldn’t work. But they’ve been exceptions in economies that still required massive human labor. The basic social contract has been clear: you work, you eat. You contribute economically, you have dignity. You produce, you matter.

That contract is about to break. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not even in five years. But something is shifting. Whether it’s AI, automation, or some economic transformation we haven’t fully anticipated, many of us can sense it—the traditional pathways from work to dignity are becoming less certain.

And when that shift happens—when a significant portion of humanity can’t produce traditional economic value—society will face a crisis of meaning. What do we do with humans who can’t contribute economically?

The secular world has limited options. Universal basic income. Government programs. Redefined metrics of productivity. They’re already scrambling for answers, and most of those answers are variations of “we’ll figure out how to maintain consumption without production.”

But the church? We should have something different. Something we’ve been proclaiming for two millennia.

We should be able to point to actual communities where people are valued beyond their productivity. Where dignity isn’t tied to economic output. Where covenant community provides meaning, purpose, and support whether you’re employed or not.

The problem is this: I look at Christian businesses, at how churches handle money, at how we actually live—and I’m not convinced we believe what we preach.

We say we believe in the image of God. But do we practice it economically?

We say we trust God for provision. But do our Sabbath rhythms reflect it?

We say we value community. But do our economic lives demonstrate it?

Here’s what terrifies me: We’re about to face the most important apologetic moment in a generation. Not an intellectual argument about God’s existence. Not a moral debate. But a practical, urgent, desperate question: When humans can’t produce economic value, what gives them dignity?

And if we can’t answer that question—not just with theology, but with lived demonstration—we’ll prove that everything we’ve preached about the image of God was just pretty Sunday school teaching that we never actually believed.

This is the first of three articles exploring this question. Today, I want to show you what Scripture has always said about human dignity, work, and economic community. In Part 2, we’ll get honest about why this is so hard in practice—the genuine complexity Christian business owners face and why the church has often failed to equip them. And in Part 3, we’ll explore what it could look like to actually build covenant communities that demonstrate what we preach.

But first, we need to remember what we claim to believe.

The Foundation: Image of God Before Productivity

Let’s start at the beginning. Genesis 1:26-27:

“Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.’ So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.”

This is the foundation of everything. Human worth doesn’t come from what we produce. It comes from whose image we bear.

Before Adam ever worked, he was valuable. Before Eve ever created anything, she had dignity. Before either of them contributed economically or accomplished anything, they bore the image of God.

The image of God is the non-negotiable source of human worth.

This should be uncontroversial to Christians. We all affirm this theologically. The disabled bear God’s image. Children bear God’s image. The elderly bear God’s image. Worth comes from being, not doing.

But here’s where it gets interesting. Genesis 2:15: “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.”

Work is given before the Fall. This is crucial.

Work isn’t punishment for sin—it’s part of what makes us image-bearers. God is Creator, so we create. God cultivates, so we cultivate. God brings order from chaos, so we do the same. Work is our participation in God’s ongoing creative activity.

Then comes Genesis 3 and the Fall. Genesis 3:17-19: “Cursed is the ground because of you; in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life... By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread.”

The Fall made work toilsome. It introduced frustration, futility, thorns, and thistles. But notice what the Fall didn’t do: It didn’t make work itself bad. It didn’t revoke the cultural mandate. Work is still dignified, still part of the image of God, still our calling—it’s just now corrupted and toilsome.

Here’s the biblical vision: Work is worship that’s been corrupted by the Fall but remains inherently dignified because it’s part of the cultural mandate given to image-bearers.

Now watch what happens when we forget this.

When we forget that image-bearing is the source of worth and work is just one expression of that worth, we start to measure human value by productivity. We start to think that people matter because of what they contribute economically.

And when we measure human value by productivity, we’ve just adopted the world’s anthropology with a Bible verse stamped on it.

Let me say that more directly: If human worth depends on productivity, then the disabled have less value. The elderly have less value. Children have less value. The unemployed have less value.

That’s not Christianity. That’s market capitalism wearing a Christian mask.

The image of God is the floor, not the ceiling. You can’t fall below it by not working. You can’t rise above it by working harder. It’s the permanent, unshakeable foundation of human dignity.

Work expresses that dignity. Work participates in God’s creative activity. Work is good and necessary and part of the cultural mandate. But work doesn’t create the dignity. The dignity comes first.

This distinction—between work as expression of dignity versus work as source of dignity—is going to matter immensely when the world asks what gives humans value when they can’t work.

Sabbath: Provision from God, Not Productivity

This brings us to one of the most countercultural practices in all of Scripture: Sabbath.

Exodus 20:8-11:

“Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, your male servant, or your female servant, or your livestock, or the sojourner who is within your gates. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.”

This isn’t a suggestion. This is the Fourth Commandment. Same list as “don’t murder” and “don’t commit adultery.”

God is saying: Stop working one day a week. This is as serious as not killing people.

Why? Because Sabbath is God’s built-in mechanism to teach us that our provision comes from Him, not from our productivity.

Think about it. Every week, you’re commanded to stop producing. To close the business. To leave money on the table. To trust that six days of work is enough because God provides.

Sabbath is economic trust made tangible.

But there’s more. Look at Deuteronomy 5:12-15, where the same commandment is repeated with a different emphasis:

“You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.”

Now we see it. Sabbath isn’t just about rest. Sabbath is liberation.

Pharaoh never let the slaves rest. He demanded endless productivity. “Make more bricks! Work harder! Your worth equals your output!” The entire Egyptian economy was built on the assumption that humans are production units, and their value is measured by what they produce.

But God says: No. You are not slaves anymore. You are My children. And My children rest.

Sabbath declares that you’re not a human resource. You’re not a productivity unit. You’re a beloved child whose worth has nothing to do with what you produced this week.

Now let me ask something uncomfortable. How many of us actually practice Sabbath?

I don’t mean “I went to church.” I mean: You stopped working. Completely. No email. No “just quickly checking in.” No side hustle. Six days of work, one day of rest.

To the business owners and entrepreneurs reading this: How many of you close your business one day per week? How many of you actually trust that six days is enough?

I’m not trying to shame anyone. I’m trying to expose something.

We say we trust God for provision. But we can’t stop working one day per week?

What we practice reveals what we actually believe. And what most of us practice is: “My provision comes from my productivity, and I can’t afford to stop.”

That’s Pharaoh’s economics. Not Sabbath economics.

The world is about to ask us how humans find meaning and provision when they can’t produce economic value. Our answer should be: “We’ve been practicing that one day per week for 2,000 years. Let us show you.”

But if we’re not actually practicing it, what do we have to show?

Jubilee: Economic Reset as Justice

Now we go somewhere even more uncomfortable. Leviticus 25:8-10:

“You shall count seven weeks of years, seven times seven years, so that the time of the seven weeks of years shall give you forty-nine years. Then you shall sound the loud trumpet on the tenth day of the seventh month. On the Day of Atonement you shall sound the trumpet throughout all your land. And you shall consecrate the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you, when each of you shall return to his property and each of you shall return to his clan.”

Every fifty years, God commanded Israel to reset the economy. Debts were forgiven. Slaves were freed. Land was returned to its original families.

Why? Verse 23: “The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine. For you are strangers and sojourners with me.”

God is saying: You don’t own anything. You’re stewards, not owners. And I’m not going to let you build permanent systems of inequality because the resources belong to Me.

This is revolutionary.

God knew that economic systems naturally drift toward inequality. The rich get richer. The poor get poorer. Wealth concentrates. Opportunity shrinks. Over time, a few families accumulate most of the resources while others become permanently economically marginalized.

So He built a reset button into the law. Every fifty years: Restart. Redistribute. Remember that all of this belongs to God and you’re just managing it for a season.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “That’s Old Testament theocratic law for ancient agrarian Israel. It doesn’t apply to us.”

Fair enough. We’re not ancient Israel. We’re not an agrarian economy. We’re not a theocracy.

But before you dismiss Jubilee entirely, ask: What principle is God teaching here?

He’s teaching that economic systems must be designed to prevent permanent underclass and to promote flourishing for all, because all resources ultimately belong to God and we’re just stewards.

That principle doesn’t go away with the old covenant.

And before you say “that’s socialism,” let me remind you: The early church did something similar voluntarily. Acts 4:34-35: “There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.”

This isn’t socialism. This isn’t capitalism. This is covenant community where we recognize that everything belongs to God and we’re trustees managing it for the common good.

The specific mechanism of Jubilee—returning land every fifty years—doesn’t transfer directly to modern economies. But the heart of Jubilee absolutely does: Followers of God refuse to build permanent systems of inequality. We structure our economic relationships to prevent permanent underclass. We recognize that all wealth comes from God and we’re stewards, not owners.

Why These Laws Still Matter

Now, let me address something directly, because I know some readers are wondering: How do we know these Old Testament laws apply to us at all? Aren’t these part of the Mosaic covenant given specifically to Israel? Weren’t they designed for an agrarian theocracy that no longer exists?

Fair questions. And yes—the specific mechanisms were tied to Israel’s context. We’re not going to return farmland to original tribes every fifty years. We’re not harvesting grain fields where the poor can glean.

But here’s the key: The mechanisms were contextual. The principles behind them reflect God’s unchanging character.

God cares about the poor and vulnerable. That doesn’t expire.

God owns all resources and we’re stewards. That doesn’t expire.

God wants provision to preserve dignity, not create dependence. That doesn’t expire.

God opposes systems that create permanent inequality. That doesn’t expire.

When we read Sabbath, Jubilee, and gleaning laws, we’re not looking for practices to copy but principles to apply. We’re asking: What does this reveal about God’s heart for economic life? And how do we embody that heart in our very different context?

The early church did exactly this. They didn’t implement Jubilee literally—they weren’t in the Promised Land redistributing ancestral property. But they embodied the principle: “There was not a needy person among them.” They translated the heart of the law into their context.

That’s our task too.

Gleaning: Provision with Dignity

One more Old Testament principle. Leviticus 19:9-10:

“When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field right up to its edge, neither shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. And you shall not strip your vineyard bare, neither shall you gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the Lord your God.”

This is beautiful. God doesn’t say “give charity to the poor.” He says “leave the edges of your field unharvested. Don’t maximize every bit of profit. Create space for those who need it.”

This is provision with dignity. The poor aren’t handed a check. They’re given opportunity to work for their provision. But the system is structured in their favor—the wealthy are commanded to leave margin, to not extract maximum value, to create economic opportunity for those who need it most.

This is Ruth gleaning in Boaz’s field. This is economic justice built into the system rather than charity added on top.

Here’s the principle: Economic systems should provide opportunity for all to work and provide for themselves, with built-in structural advantages for those who need them most.

Not dependence. Not handouts. Opportunity. With dignity.

What would this look like in modern contexts? I don’t know exactly—and Part 3 will explore possibilities. But the principle is clear: Christians should structure economic relationships to create opportunity for those most vulnerable, not to extract maximum value.

When the world asks how to provide for humans who can’t compete in ruthlessly efficient markets, we should have frameworks for this. We’ve been commanded to practice it for 3,500 years.

Acts 2: Economic Community in Practice

Now we arrive at the early church. And we need to read this passage carefully because we’ve spiritualized it for too long.

Acts 2:42-47:

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.”

I’ve read this passage many times. And every time I’ve managed to spiritualize it, historicize it, or ignore it altogether.

“They had spiritual unity.” “That was just the early church in a unique moment.” “They shared some meals together, how nice.”

But read it again. Look at what it actually says.

“All who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need.”

This isn’t just spiritual unity. This is economic community.

They weren’t just praying together. They were sharing actual resources. When someone couldn’t pay rent, the community provided. When someone lost their income, they weren’t left to figure it out alone. The gospel created economic solidarity, not just emotional support.

Acts 4:34-35 makes it even clearer: “There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.”

Now notice what happens: “The Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.”

The world looked at this community and saw something they’d never seen before: People who valued each other beyond economic utility.

In a Roman economy built on slavery and exploitation, here was a community where your worth didn’t depend on your productivity. Where you weren’t abandoned when you couldn’t contribute. Where covenant community meant economic community.

And people flocked to it.

This is the gospel producing tangible, economic transformation. Not just individual piety. Not just spiritual fellowship. Actual economic community that demonstrated a different way of being human.

What We’ve Preached for 2,000 Years

Let me bring this together.

For two millennia, the church has proclaimed:

Human worth comes from the image of God, not from productivity. You matter because you bear God’s image, not because you produce economic value.

Work is worship, not just wages. It’s our participation in God’s creative activity, part of the cultural mandate, dignified but not the source of dignity.

Sabbath teaches us that provision comes from God, not from our frantic striving. We rest because we’re children, not slaves. We trust because God provides.

Jubilee shows us that economic systems must prevent permanent inequality. We’re stewards, not owners. We structure economic life to promote flourishing for all.

Gleaning demonstrates that provision should preserve dignity. We create opportunity, not dependence. We structure systems to favor those who need it most.

Acts 2 proves that gospel community is economic community. When people encounter Christ, it transforms not just their souls but their wallets. Covenant community means we don’t let brothers and sisters suffer alone.

This is what we’ve preached. This is what Scripture teaches. This is the foundation we claim to build our lives on.

And it’s exactly what the world is about to desperately need.

But Are We Ready?

Here’s my fear.

A shift is coming. I don’t know exactly when or exactly what form it will take. But many of us sense it—the traditional pathways from work to dignity are becoming less certain. Whether it’s AI, automation, or economic transformation we haven’t fully anticipated, something is shifting.

And when that shift fully arrives, the world will ask: What gives humans dignity when they can’t produce economic value?

We have the answer. We’ve been proclaiming it for 2,000 years.

But do we actually believe it? Have we been practicing it? Can we demonstrate it?

Now, let me be careful here. I’m not saying nothing is happening. There are churches taking marketplace ministry seriously. There are business owners wrestling faithfully with these tensions. There are pockets of genuine covenant community practicing real economic solidarity.

I thank God for them. And if you’re part of one of those communities, you know how rare and precious it is.

But here’s the honest assessment: These are exceptions, not the norm. They’re scattered experiments, not widespread practice. When I look at the church broadly—including my own community, including my own life—I see a significant gap between our theology and our practice.

The question isn’t whether anyone is doing this. Some are. The question is whether we’re ready at scale. Whether the average Christian business owner has the frameworks they need. Whether the typical church is equipping its people for these decisions. Whether we’ve built enough covenant communities to actually demonstrate an alternative when the world comes asking.

And I don’t think we’re there yet.

Have we been preaching imago Dei on Sunday while living by productivity metrics Monday through Friday?

Have we been teaching Sabbath rest while our businesses run seven days a week?

Have we been celebrating Acts 2 while our actual economic lives look indistinguishable from our secular neighbors?

The world is about to ask us to demonstrate what we’ve been preaching. And I’m not sure we’re ready.

In Part 2, I’m going to get honest about why this is so hard. I’m going to share what I discovered when my business fell apart and I realized what I was really trusting. I’m going to talk about the genuine complexity Christian business owners face—the real tensions between faithfulness and practicality that don’t have simple answers.

And I’m going to explore why the church has often failed to equip Christians for these decisions—giving Sunday school answers to Monday morning complexities.

Because here’s the truth: Most Christians aren’t ignoring these questions. They’re wrestling with them. They just don’t have robust frameworks for navigating the tensions.

We need to build those frameworks. We need to develop the practical theology that helps us live out what we preach.

We still have time. But we need to start now.

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Next in this series: Part 2 - “When Sunday Meets Monday: The Test We’re Currently Failing”

If this resonates with you, I’d love to hear: What tensions are you wrestling with in your work? Where do you see the gap between what we preach and what we practice? Leave a comment or reply—I’m genuinely interested in your experience.