What Does It Mean To Be Human? — Psalm 8, Hebrews 2:1–10

In the news this week—
a name everyone’s talking about:
Tilly Norwood,
a rising star who never rose,
an actress who never aged.
She smiles from a screen,
shares her feelings,
but has no pulse,
no breath fogging the glass.
She will never bleed or bury someone she loves.
And I wonder—
what does it mean
to be human?

We could start by looking inward,
but the psalmist looks up.
“O Lord, our Lord,
how majestic is your name
in all the earth.”
The night sky spills over—
the work of God’s fingers.
David feels small—
a speck beneath eternity—
yet somehow seen.

Infants gurgle praise—
their babbling stronger
than the arguments of kings.
God has always loved
to work through weakness—
a child, a shepherd,
a crucified man.

“What are humans that you are mindful of them,
mere mortals that you care for them?”
Zoom out—
oceans, continents, galaxies.
Zoom in—
and there you are, loved.

You are not a cosmic accident,
not just animated dust.
You are crowned
with glory and honour.
Not for what you achieve,
but because God breathed
his own life into you.

Every face, every frail body—
newborn, aged, forgotten, famous—
bears that same radiance.
To be human
is to rule by serving,
to tend the world
with mercy and delight.

And when we failed,
God did not erase us.
He became one of us.

We do not yet see
everything under human feet—
but we do see Jesus,
made lower for a little while,
who tasted death for everyone.
The perfect human—
gentle in strength,
crowned not with gold,
but with thorns.

He rose,
and the crown of creation
found its rightful head.

O Lord, our Lord,
how majestic is your name
in all the earth.

Original message by Andrew West, The Bridge Church Macquarie Park NSW
5 October 2025