Since 2017, I’ve had the opportunity to serve on theological examination committees and examine ministerial candidates as they pursue licensure and ordination. As part of the process, candidates are required to state any differences with our confessional standards. Two clauses, in particular, seem to come up more frequently than others.
The first is the “recreation” clause in Westminster Confession of Faith 21.8, which describes Sabbath observance in this way:
This Sabbath is then kept holy unto the Lord, when men … do not only observe an holy rest, all the day, from their own works, words, and thoughts about their worldly employments and recreations.
The second, and increasingly discussed, difference concerns a phrase in Westminster Larger Catechism 109:
The making any representation of God, of all or of any of the three persons, either inwardly in our mind, or outwardly in any kind of image or likeness of any creature whatsoever.
This second difference has sparked a number of helpful conversations—about how we think of images in Christian worship and devotion and how far the second commandment reaches.
This article is not meant to answer every pastoral or practical question about this issue. For example, I will not address whether it is appropriate to watch “The Chosen” or how to think about illustrated children’s Bibles like “The Jesus Storybook Bible.” Nor am I offering any specific advice to presbyteries about how to rule on stated differences. They have the right and responsibility to make those decisions prayerfully and wisely, and I trust that wisdom belongs with them.
While most candidates and ministers agree that we should not use images in worship, many feel less certain about the idea of inward mental images—particularly of Jesus. Here are a few of the most common reasons I’ve heard for taking exception to this part of the catechism.
1. “Our imagination just works that way.”
“When I read the gospels or think about Jesus, I can’t help but picture him. It’s not an act of worship; it’s just how human imagination works. It seems unreasonable, maybe even impossible, to expect believers not to visualize Christ at all.”
This is a sincere and common rationale, and it often comes from a very honest place. Many candidates are not looking to push boundaries—they are simply acknowledging a lived human experience. After all, it is natural to form mental pictures when we read narrative accounts, especially about a person as central to our faith as Jesus. For many, it feels not only intuitive, but impossible to avoid.
Still, this argument makes a significant assumption: that the tendency to form mental images is part of God’s original, unfallen design rather than a feature of our post-fall condition. But Scripture often treats the human impulse to image God—whether with hands or in the mind—as a dangerous overreach.
Paul warns in Acts 17:29 that the divine nature must not be thought of as “an image formed by the art and imagination of man.” Moses reminds Israel in Deuteronomy 4:15–16 that when the Lord appeared at Horeb, they “saw no form,” and therefore must not make any image. These warnings suggest that fallen natural tendencies can be misdirected and need to be restrained.
Furthermore, to say that God cannot command something difficult—perhaps even impossible—for fallen humans to obey would undermine the entire moral law. The Reformed tradition affirms that God’s commands are not limited by our ability to keep them. Our failure to obey perfectly is precisely what reveals our need for grace. Just as our ongoing struggle with lust does not nullify the seventh commandment, so our instinctive tendency to imagine Jesus does not mean we are free from the second.
2. “The second commandment only applies to worship.”
“The catechism goes too far. The second commandment is about worship, not private thoughts. If I’m not worshiping an image, how can I be breaking the commandment?”
This is probably the most common rationale I’ve heard—and it’s not without its strengths. But it raises some hard questions too. For instance: if imagining Jesus inwardly is acceptable so long as we’re not worshiping the image, then why wouldn’t it also be okay to create a painting or statue of Jesus, provided we don’t worship it either? What’s the real difference between a mental image and a visible one, if neither is being used in devotion?
This argument echoes a distinction made at the Second Council of Nicaea, which said icons could be “venerated” (proskynesis) but not “worshiped” (latreia). The Reformers pushed back hard on this distinction. They saw that the line between veneration and worship was hard to keep, and that in practice, the heart drifts.
The Heidelberg Catechism puts it clearly in the answer to Question 98:
“No, we should not try to be wiser than God. He wants his people instructed by the living preaching of his Word—not by idols that cannot even talk.”
In short, drawing a bright line between worship and mental reflection may sound simple, but it often becomes blurry in practice, and our tradition has wisely chosen to avoid that danger.
3. “Forbidding mental images undermines the incarnation.”
“Jesus became human. Shouldn’t we be able to picture his humanity?”
The incarnation is central to our faith, and candidates raise this concern with good intent. But it is worth remembering that when we imagine Jesus, we are only imagining his human nature because no one can mentally visualize divine essence. And if we are only picturing his humanity, we run the risk of dividing what Scripture and confessional theology insist must remain united: Christ’s divine and human natures in one person.
The Chalcedonian Definition guards us here, stating that Jesus is one person in two natures, “without confusion, without change, without division, without separation.” If our mental picture of Jesus focuses on one nature to the neglect of the other, we may unintentionally slide toward a distorted Christology.
More practically, we should also remember that no one alive today knows what Jesus looked like. Any image we form—mental or visual—is speculation. Not only do we risk dividing Christ’s person, we also misrepresent both his humanity and his divinity.
4. “The apostles must have remembered his face.”
“Surely the apostles thought about Jesus’ appearance after he ascended. Wouldn’t that make mental images okay?”
It is possible the apostles remembered what Jesus looked like. But if they did, they were recalling something they had actually seen. They were not imagining; they were remembering. And nowhere in the New Testament do we see them describing his appearance or encouraging others to picture it. That omission is likely intentional.
Even more importantly, the apostles had a unique role and privilege. They saw the incarnate Son of God face to face. That’s not something we share with them, and it does not follow that we should try to replicate their memories through our imagination. They walked by sight; we walk by faith.
Pastoral Considerations
As Christians consider these issues, here are two final points that might be helpful.
First, Christ has given us authorized, tangible ways to “see” him. In the Lord’s Supper, we receive visible and physical signs of his body and blood. Jesus said, “This is my body, which is for you… This cup is the new covenant in my blood… Do this in remembrance of me.”
When we’re invited to remember Christ, it is through the means he has appointed—not through speculative mental imagery, but through bread, wine, and the Word.
Second, the law of God doesn’t just address external behavior. The Westminster Larger Catechism (Q. 99) reminds us that the Ten Commandments are spiritual and reach “the understanding, will, affections, and all other powers of the soul.” That includes the imagination.
Just as Jesus said that anger can violate the sixth commandment and lust the seventh, so it is worth asking: could mental images of God—no matter how well-intended—fall under the warnings of the second?
Conclusion
When it comes to the second commandment and mental images of Christ, we may find ourselves relying more on instinct or cultural assumptions than on careful biblical and theological thinking.
My hope in writing this essay is not to bind the conscience, but to encourage thoughtful engagement for the good of candidates, presbyteries, and the church as a whole. These are weighty things, and they deserve our best prayer, patience, and faithfulness.
Daniel Nealon serves as lead pastor of Deer Creek Church in Littleton, Colorado.