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God Image — Part I

Silhouetted man holding a child against a blue sunset sky

When asked about our beliefs about God, we generally respond with what we have been taught by our early caregivers, learned through religious formation, or gleaned from sacred texts. Drawing upon these teachings, we might describe the Divine’s character as faithful, loving, and merciful and further go on to define his nature as all-mighty, omnipotent, immanent, and transcendent. This is an understanding that resides in the intellect, and in psychoanalytic and theological terms is referred to as the God concept.2

But we also have a separate understanding of the Divine, distinct from the intellect. One might be tempted to label it as an embodied knowing. Yet, that term alone connotes something much broader, and at its deepest level, mystical.

Around the early part of the 1800s, prominent philosophers and psychoanalysts raised up for consideration the formation of a person’s God imago, or image. Specifically, they were interested in how the mental representation of God, formed in the unconscious, first comes into being in the child.

This was the height of the modern era when critical analysis and scientific methods were gaining increasing importance. The scientific theories that emerged out of it would serve to challenge many long-held cultural and religious beliefs. Underlying the thought on the idea of God, was the question: Was an individual’s representation of God merely a projection, or a wish fulfillment designed to meet psychological needs?

In the psychoanalytical world, Sigmund Freud, broadly held to be the father of psychoanalysis, was the first to offer a comprehensive analysis on the formation of the mental representation of God. Central to his theory on the structure and functioning of the mind was his belief that primitive instincts are the primary driving force of the personality. Present at birth and rooted in the id, these drives operate at the unconscious level, and are balanced against external demands by the ego.

Freud considered the idea of God to be an infantile instinct that forms after the resolution of the Oedipus complex. Described in a non-scientific way, the resolution occurs when the young boy (ages 3 to 6) resigns himself to the fact that he will not be able to possess Mommy as Daddy does. Feelings of envy and jealousy for the father are repressed—replaced by love and affection. As part of his acquiescence, the young boy begins to identify with the father and in doing so, a mental representation of him is “taken in,” or internalized. Freud termed the internalized father representation the superego, which he said functions as the conscience. 3

For Freud, the God representation emerges as an attempt resolve ambivalent feelings toward the father—for example, jealousy, envy, love, and guilt—and address myriad psychological needs.4 In the end, the God representation then is just a projection of the father—only idealized. This “exalted father” thus becomes a way for the child to possess the unattainable: Daddy, the new aim of his love and affection, without the previous conflicts and tensions, nor the fear of his loss.

Ironically, it was in Freud’s concept of “taking in” of an object’s representation, specifically, the father representation, that would become the cornerstone of a new psychoanalytic school of thought—object relations.

For more than a half a century, Freud’s concept of the formation of the God representation was generally accepted in psychoanalytic thought. Interestingly, the first serious challenge to it came from within. In 1979, Ana-Maria Rizzuto, a Freudian analyst published The Birth of the Living God; A Psychoanalytic Study in which she offered an alternate thesis on the formation of the God representation—one now framed by object relations theory.

Psychoanalytic theory explores the structures, components, and processes of the psyche, and how their functioning shapes our sense of self, personality, and worldview.6 7 Central to object relations, a branch of psychoanalysis, is that the actual catalyst behind how we see the world and ourselves is our early childhood relationships. At first this may seem evident, but the mechanics of how it plays out in our psyche are at once surprising and enlightening, offering insight into both our inner and external worlds.

In object relations theory, our most significant early relationships are encoded in the mind as mental representations, referred to as objects. These mental representations capture the whole of our experience of another—our sensory experiences of them; how they interact with us; and their way of being in the world.

Our mother’s voice as she coos to us; the scent of her skin as she holds us close to her body; the attentive glint of concern in her eyes when we cry—from these sensory experiences, our first conceptions of love and safety are formed and internalized as part of our early mental representation of her. These same sensory experiences also begin to shape our first mental representation of our “self”—for example, as deserving of love and protection. In the same way, the father who listens attentively to the young child, and provides support and encouragement, contributes to the child’s understanding of self as worthy and capable. 8 9

What gives meaning to these experiences, are the emotions tied to them. As relational beings, it is the varied emotions and feelings that in the end matter to us—at both conscious and unconscious levels.

There is another aspect of our early mental representations fundamental to object relations: They become the framework for how we interpret and engage with all subsequent relationships. They shape how we perceive others; influence our feelings, desires, and expectations of them; evoke physiological and defensive reactions; and may lead us to behave in ways reminiscent of our interactions with the original object.10 And although we may sometimes be able to recognize the association we make between our current relationships and those of our formative years (e.g, between our demanding, hard-to-please boss and our critical grandparent), for the most part the underlying processes operate in the background without our awareness.

In the years since Freud first explored these ideas, studies across the scientific disciplines have confirmed the centrality of our early relations on our personality. These studies increasingly affirm Freud’s emphasis on the significance of parents and siblings, while also revealing the profound and far-reaching influence of the mental representation of the primary caregiver(s)—an impact even more extensive than Freud himself may have imagined.

What caught people’s attention in Ana-Maria Rizzuto’s 1979 book, The Birth of the Living God is her groundbreaking theory that our God representation—which she termed the God image—also derives from our early childhood relationships. In her study of 20 individuals, she found a striking correlation between each person’s God image and their primary caregiver(s).12 13

What does this mean, then? Are we held captive to the mental representations formed in our early childhood years—including their impact on our experience of the Divine?14 Was Freud right in his proposition that our idea of God is merely a projection of an early caregiver, created to meet psychological needs? Or might there be a greater intelligence behind it all, providing the young child a way in which they can begin to understand and relate to God?

In the continuation of this series, we’ll explore how the God image is formed; the impact our early God image might have on our relationship with the Divine, and ourselves; and ways in which the God image is transformed and healed.

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First Published: June 3, 2026


Finding the Way at the Threshold of Change

Murky, snowy path through woods ©Stillness to Fullness

I had a stable, well-paying job, and in many ways it was good. But I knew that if I built my life around it, I would one day look back and feel I had wasted the opportunity to do more meaningful work—to me. The longing took shape as a desire to make a direct impact on the lives of others, and given my passion for health, at that time I could imagine no more meaningful path.

When we come to crossroads like these—truly life-changing ones and not without risk—how can we know what the right path is?

On a visit to Assisi, I met a Franciscan and shared my thoughts with him. He cautioned that the decision I was contemplating was very serious and recommended committing to pray about it for a full year, at least one hour a dayat that point, I was not yet aware of the the spiritual practices of discernment. I was surprisednot only by his guidance itself, but also by the amount of prayer such a decision required.

Ultimately, I left my position to focus on my studies. But a year and a half later, on Christmas Eve, I looked with despair at the study materials on my kitchen table—I had made almost no progress! I said out loud what my whole being had already recognized: “Lord, if this was of you, I would already be done with this degree.”

Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.
Ps 127:1 RSVCE

But along the way, something else was happening: a seed had been quietly planted and was growing. As Peter van Breeman wrote, “We often lack a sufficient awareness to recognize our deepest longing.”1

In my confusion about the way forward, I reached out to a religious friend to get his guidance. During our conversation, I was finally able to recognize that my deeper longing was to work in the area of faith. Following our discussion, I decided to shift my focus of study, and within three weeks, I was enrolled in my first course.

How do we know in decisions like these, that we are on the right track?

For me, the recognition came quickly. Reading an article for my first course assignment, I immediately understood why God had guided me to this program of study. The article focused on the God Image, and I could see how a distorted understanding of God can quietly wound a person’s inner life, relationships, and faith. My passion had always been in helping people heal, and in that moment, I realized my true calling was toward spiritual health.2

Today we ponder Another—who eagerly waited at the threshold of becoming—a Light we can trust to illumine our path and guide our own unfolding.

Inspired by this personal journey, in the new year we will begin a series exploring the God Image. To stay connected and to be notified when these articles are released, you are welcome to click here.

First published: December 26, 2025


1Peter van Breeman, The God of Our Deepest Longing, Seven Biblical Meditations (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press, 2009), trans. Peter Heinegg, 3.
2Another indication that I was on the right path was the ease with which I completed the studies, graduating in just two years.

God Image Series

Join us in this series as we explore how our early mental representation of God is formed in the psyche; the impact it may have on our relationship with the Divine, and ourselves; and ways in which the God Image is transformed and healed.

To be notified when articles in this series are published, click Notify Me .