“How much longer are we going to look past the light of the imago Dei in each person?”- Leroy Barber, Embrace
Some of you may or may not have noticed that I have been relatively quiet on social media lately. This is intentional for a number of reasons, not the least of which the fact that I have tried to be more focused on investing in my IRL community. Social media advocacy and discussions can be meaningful, but after a “friend” suggested that people could not be real activists/ “didn’t care” about progressive issues if they didn’t post enough about certain issues to meet their arbitrary standards…I had just had enough of this virtual world. But, I digress.
I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about worth. Specifically, self-worth. No matter who you are, you have likely received messages your entire life about what makes you “good” or “valuable” as a human being. Much of it is garbage.
“No one will love you if you’re fat.”
“Success is measured in how much you earn.”
“Follow all these rules and then God will love you and bless you.”
“You’re not married yet? What’s wrong with you?”
“You can’t do that, you’re a woman.”
I’ve been working hard to strip away the lies I have been taught and get down to what worth really is.
As part of this exercise in self-improvement, I sat down and wrote out what I believe the definition of worth is. As a Christian, my concept of worth is rooted in my belief that I was created in the image of a benevolent God. I am what Christians refer to as an image-bearer. I believe my worth is derived from this and it is something that cannot be stripped away, ever. Therefore, no matter how I look, how little money I might make, how much I might “fail” — I will never lose my worth. The imago Dei is my core — everything else is just dressing.
Part of accepting this truth for myself is recognizing that this is true for everyone else living in the world.
A few years back, I sent a text message to a friend regarding a friend of theirs who is on the completely opposite end of the political spectrum from me. This person was very publicly advocating for a political issue with which I greatly disagreed (and which ended up having very real, very difficult repercussions for my own life). I was extremely angry and ended up saying something very hateful about this person whom I had never actually met. My friend responded with something to the effect of “you’re talking about my friend — a person I care about deeply.” I felt horrible immediately because I knew I had done something really wrong. I knew it was wrong because I had been in my friend’s shoes. I am often taken-aback at how quickly people are willing to label or dismiss my family members (whom I love dearly) because of their religious and political affiliations. It’s amazing how quickly we learn one thing about a person and jump to “wow, they sound really shitty.” People are whole, complex individuals and not merely avatars of certain ideologies. I really try to keep this in mind, but I don’t always succeed.
When people advocate for something that we find reprehensible, it’s very tempting to take the low-hanging fruit. I do not like our current president. I find much of what he represents and supports offensive and dangerous. But, I refuse to talk about his looks, his hair, his weight, his complexion, etc. I don’t have to personally attack him to advocate against his policies. In fact, it’s just bad debating to do so. I get it, though. It’s hard not to. He’s very unlikable. And sometimes it’s just really funny or it just feels satisfying to say something mean. But even the most insufferable among us are image bearers. As a believer, am I not bound to recognize and respect this? As Christians sometimes like to say — you don’t have to like everyone, but you do have to love everyone.
I’ve heard many of my peers on the left criticize Michelle Obama’s now famous words: “when they go low, we go high.” These peers think it best to fight fire with fire and race the other side to the bottom. They brim with pride of their own spitefulness. I refuse to accept and adopt this “turn-about is fair play” philosophy. I refuse to join the cult of pettiness. As a practical matter, it distracts from the issues. As a spiritual matter, it reinforces the notion that a person can be worthless — a notion that is primarily harmful to others and ultimately harmful to me — a notion that not only makes people say “I wish you were dead” but also, “this world would be better off without me.”
Sometimes we want to believe that we can adopt whatever tactics we please if the cause for which we are fighting is the righteous one. We convince ourselves that so long as we’re “punching up,” anything goes. But how can we be righteous when we strip others of their humanity? How can we claim the high ground when we stoop so low? Are we really that different from those we oppose when mimicking their tactics we claim to despise? It is a dangerous path that turns disagreement into violence, and I’m really trying to watch my step.
