The word “selfie” is not very old, mostly a relic of our smartphone era. But the idea of a selfie is much older than that. My guess is that humans have been doing selfies for about as long as we have been around. We’re fascinated with ourselves.

Recently in some obscure corner of my life a decision was made that took many of those in that small corner by surprise. It’s not what we expected, and it was frustrating, felt hurtful, for some. The decision maker did not make the decision we would have made.  Nothing wrong, nothing unethical or immoral, simply not the decision we expected or wanted.

The selfies showed up at the same time the news of the decision began to spread.

“I wish I’d known,” some said.

“They didn’t say a word to me,” others complained.

“I think they’re making a mistake,” the always-right contingent opined.

“I remember when I was in a similar situation. Let me tell  you about it,” the nostalgia mongers added.

The decision maker, once respected by all of us, was suddenly a villain.  The figurative camera turned toward selfward, each of us reacted through the lens of self-concern, self-interest, and self-protection. We didn’t ask about how we might help, encourage, or support our decision-making friend; we asked, “What about me?”

Apparently,  selfies were a problem in the early church.  To those with the camera pointed selfward, the Apostle Paul wrote, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3)

Someone made a decision I did not agree with or would not have made had it been mine to make. Nothing wrong.  No sin. But some of us were surprised, frustrated, even hurt. By aiming our cameras at our disappointed faces, we were unable to see our friend in need.

Beware the selfie.