In a world gripped by an unrelenting obsession with self, we’re drowning in a sea of “me-first” mentality. As Paul David Tripp brilliantly exposes, “The DNA of sin is selfishness. Sin inserts me into the middle of my universe; the one place reserved for God and God alone. Sin reduces my field of concern down to my wants, my needs, and my feelings. Sin really does make it all about me.” This truth cuts like a blade, revealing how deeply self-worship has infected our culture.

Pastor David Murray nails the diagnosis, calling it “selfaholism” — a toxic addiction defined by “self-centeredness, self-righteousness, self-promotion, self-sufficiency, self-will, self-worship, self-love, self-praise, and so on. However, these symptoms manifest themselves differently, depending on the age of the addict.” Look at politics today: it’s a battleground of selfaholics clamoring for what they perceive as personal autonomy — demanding the “right” to abortion, the “right” to redefine love, and an endless list of self-proclaimed entitlements. It’s a shouting match where “my rights” drown out everything else.

Peel back the layers of today’s progressive ideologies, and what’s at the heart? The anthem of “Me, myself, and I.” The rallying cry of “my truth” fuels radical agendas, leaving a trail of devastation: 63.4 million unborn lives snuffed out since 1973, families shattered, and children scarred by irreversible gender procedures. The wreckage is heartbreaking, and the fallout spares no one.

In the end, chasing self doesn’t deliver happiness — it breeds misery. That fleeting high of self-gratification? It’s a mirage. The pursuit of “my truth” ends in pain, confusion, and a hollow emptiness that lingers. Christians living in this self-obsessed world can’t help but see the collateral damage — wounds that cut deep, from individuals to entire communities. Look around. We can hardly even talk to each other anymore because people are far more concerned with shunning anyone who disagrees with them rather than finding common ground as people all created with dignity and value. Respect for others often goes out the window the second “me” becomes the utmost priority.

Sin doesn’t mellow with time, and a heart drunk on selfishness only grows sicker. That’s why Christians are called to a radical alternative: selflessness. It’s not just counter-cultural — it’s a blazing testimony to the gospel’s power. Jesus didn’t command us to “love yourself with all you’ve got” or “put yourself first, then maybe help your neighbor.” No, the Bible is crystal clear: love God with every fiber of your being — heart, soul, mind, and strength — and love your neighbor as yourself. That’s the divine playbook, and it flips the world’s priorities upside down.

As Tripp put it, “The biggest protection against the kingdom of self is not a set of self-reformative defensive strategies. It’s a heart that’s so blown away by the right-here, right-now glories of the grace of Jesus Christ that you’re not easily seduced by the lesser temporary glories of that claustrophobic kingdom of one, the kingdom of self.” Christians, this is our call: to reject the siren song of self and embrace the cross-shaped life of surrender and service. Only in losing ourselves for Christ’s sake will we find true freedom — and offer a fractured world a glimpse of the only hope that heals.

Paul, in Galatians 5:13, warned us against this selfaholism: “For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.” This freedom in Christ is not a license for self-indulgence but a summons to selfless love. Likewise, in Philippians 2:3-4, Paul urges, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Here, humility becomes the antidote to pride, redirecting our gaze from self to others. Paul reinforces this in 1 Corinthians 10:24: “Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor.”

These words, echoed throughout all of Scripture, call us to reject the tyranny of self and embody the sacrificial love of Christ, who “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45.) We’re not here to compete or compare. Rather, we’re called to encourage and raise up. We’re called to make disciples, and that is simply not done in selfishness. That’s because, dear reader, it takes selflessness to pray for those who hurt us. It takes selflessness to want the sinners around us to receive salvation. It takes selflessness to rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep when others weep.

In humility, we are invited to walk on a path that mirrors the Savior who washed His disciples’ feet and laid down His life for the world. We’re called to imitate the King who gave up all He had so His people could be rich in glory.

The seductive pull of self-absorption — whether through pride, ambition, or envy — chains us to a fleeting kingdom of one. Yet, Christ’s example liberates us to live for a greater purpose: to love God with all our heart and to serve others with selfless devotion. This is the cross-focused life, where we find true freedom not in exalting ourselves but in humbling ourselves, pouring out our lives as an offering for others, just as Jesus did. As Paul exhorts in Philippians 2:5-8, “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God … humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”

Ultimately, Christians are best served when they fix their gaze — steadfast and unwavering — on Christ, allowing His transformative power to shape our lives. While self-reflection is necessary to guard against complacency, deception, or rebellion, it must always be done from an understanding of who we are and who we’re called to be in Christ. We are called to examine ourselves and walk in step with the Spirit, but this is most effective when our primary focus is not on our own flaws or efforts, but on Christ Himself.

I am convinced the best version of ourselves, with respect to adhering to our two greatest commandments, takes shape when our deepest concern is for Christ first, then for others, letting these priorities mold us from within. A heart tuned to sing God’s praise is more inclined to reflect what is good, true, and beautiful. A heart devoted to loving its neighbor is more likely to cultivate the love, joy, and patience needed to serve them well. So, yes, pursue noble character — but do so with your eyes fixed on things above, where Christ reigns, rather than inward, where our limited, flawed perspective so often leads us astray.

Let us, then, cast off the shackles of self-centeredness and clothe ourselves with the humility and love of our Savior. In serving others — lifting up the weary, comforting the broken, and seeking the good of our neighbor — we reflect the heart of Christ and shine as beacons of hope in a fractured world. This is our calling: to live not for ourselves, but for Him who died and rose again, that His magnificent grace might be known through us and point others to Him.