Life Lessons Learned
It was late one night when I happened to catch a call-in segment on a talk show that left me quietly heartbroken. A 17-year-old girl called in, sobbing to the hostess about her pregnancy. Just when life was finally going well—back home from boarding school, surrounded by friends, having what she called “real fun”—this happened. A pregnancy. An interruption. A threat to her joy.
She had already decided that abortion was her only option. The real dilemma she posed to the host was whether she should tell her father. According to her, he would support the abortion but might send her away again. The hostess, in soothing tones, offered the culturally acceptable sympathies. Talk to your therapist. Think it over. Maybe ask him about telling your dad. Not once—not once—did the hostess hint at the value of the life growing inside this teenager. Not once did she suggest that responsibility might be the path to healing, or that selflessness could lead to peace.
I sat there and whispered, “Poor baby.”
But I wasn’t just referring to the unborn child—though of course, that child deserved life and dignity. I meant the 17-year-old herself. Poor baby, so consumed by fear that her “good time” might come to an end. Poor baby, so disconnected from the reality of what life truly means. She had no context in which to consider that another life—even one dependent on her own—might be valuable. No anchor to guide her into mature decision-making. Just fear, and the ache of lost fun.
This, dear reader, is the terrifying consequence of the almighty “I.” When the world is built around the self, anything that threatens that center becomes intolerable. That’s how fragile self-worship really is. And when someone else—an unborn child, a parent’s disappointment, even a call for moral responsibility—pushes into that universe, the only solution becomes removal. Silence the threat. Preserve the “I.”
Ezekiel 28:11–19 addresses the king of Tyre, but many see in the passage a veiled reference to Satan’s pride. The passage recounts the fall of one who was once majestic, gifted, and adorned, yet corrupted by pride and self-centeredness. “Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor.” This same corruption echoes through generations, across cultures, and straight into the heart of a crying teenager who cannot imagine a world where she is not at the center.
The conversation haunts me—not because of its rarity, but because of its familiarity. We live in a culture that subtly teaches all of us to place the self first. We’re bombarded with slogans: “Live your truth.” “Do what makes you happy.” “You owe it to yourself.” And slowly, often without realizing it, we begin to believe that life is all about us.
We stop considering the needs of others. We stop asking what God desires. We start measuring everything—relationships, jobs, moral decisions—by one metric: How does this make me feel?
That kind of thinking doesn’t just appear in the headlines. It’s in our homes. It’s in our churches. It’s in our hearts. We may never call into a talk show with a dilemma quite as dramatic, but we all have moments where we elevate the “I” above the “Thou.”
Scripture teaches us a different pattern: God first, others second, self last. It’s an order that feels backward in our me-first culture, but it’s the only arrangement that leads to life. The Apostle Paul told the Philippians, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves” (Philippians 2:3). And Jesus Himself modeled this, laying down His divine privilege to serve, to suffer, and to save.
When we flip the order—putting ourselves first—we distort everything else. That’s what happened with the king of Tyre. That’s what happened with Satan. And that’s what happens with us when our desires become our gods.
There’s an old poem by Frank C. Nelson that captures this beautifully:
“There’s a heap o’ joy in living,
When we’re living as we should;
And the greatest joy is giving,
Where it does the greatest good…
It is merely an illusion,
When we live it selfishly.”
It’s a hard truth, but it’s a freeing one. The more we give, the more we live. The more we serve, the more joy we discover. The more we put self aside, the more we actually begin to see who we were truly created to be.
So what’s the takeaway? Here are a few truths to hold onto:
Self-centeredness is not just a personality flaw—it is a spiritual deception. It echoes Satan’s fall and distances us from God’s heart.
Sympathy without truth is dangerous. The talk show hostess meant well, but she left the girl without any moral compass. Kindness must be tethered to wisdom.
Real joy comes from responsibility, not escape. That 17-year-old had a life-altering opportunity to grow in character and compassion—but she saw only loss, not gain.
Our culture’s greatest idol is the self. But Scripture calls us to dethrone the “I” and place Christ at the center.
And if you’re reading this and see yourself somewhere in the story, there is grace. We’ve all been there—torn between what we want and what’s right. But God’s mercy meets us in that moment. He doesn’t just rebuke the self-centered heart—He transforms it. When we surrender the “I,” we find the “I AM.”
Related Article: The Idol of Self and the Call to Die Daily — Desiring God
Blessing
May this life lesson strengthen your walk, deepen your faith, and remind you that each day is a step toward heaven. May you know the joy of putting God first, loving others deeply, and finding your true self in Christ.
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