While working in a big city, a good option came for taking a bus. This bus was crowded. I observed a well-dressed woman who I would guess to be between 40 and 50 years old. She also stood, along with many of us, for several miles on this overcrowded bus. Finally, the passenger near her requested a stop, leaving an empty seat. She settled onto the cushions, off her extra-high- healed feet. I could feel her relief.

At the next stop a young woman with a newborn baby climbed onto the bus, leading a toddler beside her. No one moved to give a seat, so she stood with the rest of us. The baby’s body bounced about in rhythm with the bus, with no protective hand about its head. The recently seated woman looked at the young mother, then away. She looked rather nonplussed, and I surmised an inward struggle. Two or three minutes later, she looked back at the young mother and found her voice, “Would you take my seat?” In a moment they exchanged places.

Did I imagine a hush that pervaded the bus?

A few miles down the road. A priest swung up the stairwell with a briefcase in hand. By then, transfers allowed me to be seated by a teenage boy. We traveled several blocks when the young man jumped up suddenly, saying, “Here, take this,” to the priest, before finding a resting spot on the rail.

Living at a time when words are ubiquitous—ever bombarding our eyes and ears—it seems actions have “come into their own,” with great potential for notice.

The young are asking, “Where’s the action?” Mind you, they are not looking for the kind witnessed on the bus, but yet they are not apt to miss it either, when it happens.

Another case in point affects two adults—namely, my husband Gary and I. We love the beauty of the earth and would not consider littering, yet neither of us has thought much of picking up after others along the highways and byways of life. That is until “Phoenix,” and all because of too little ladies.

Early in the mornings, between 6:30 and 7:30, this pair can be seen in Olive Grove Park, wearing gloves, picking up trash left by the public of the previous day. We have come to think of them as the “unsung heroes,” admiring their selfless diligence.

One morning while talking with them, we learned this volunteer “garbage detail” has gone on for two years. They claim to enjoy the exercise, citing the walking and bending keeps them flexible. “It’s sort of ‘paying our dues to the club,’” said Elda with a disarming smile.

The change in us was subtle, but after watching these women for three months, we are not so apt to step over an aluminum can on the path or candy wrappers in stairways. We stooped more, now, influenced by that every day, quiet example. (Albeit, more care exists within the current pandemic.)

Most of us are more conscious of our actions or lack of them when we see others portraying exemplary choices. But, how much more enriched the corner of our world could be were we to carry throughout the year deeds that silently speak. Almost always someone is watching. It has been said that our lives are often the only Bible read, the only sermon heard. Pantomimed.

As an adult, we can and do affect one another. But, mostly I think of the young. Many words have crossed their wires; they have few heroes. Good observers, they recognize what is good and what is right when it is acted out before their eyes. The world is their theatre. They seem “on stage.” But all the time, they are really watching us.

Perhaps the greatest gift we can give to ourselves is encouragement to believe in the art of being salt . . . humble, lowly, having great preserving power. Seasoning, serving to beacon earth’s children—large and small wandering forked paths. The people of flavor, offering up the essence of ourselves for the betterment of all—living out the way of Christ, portrayed in the best possible taste.

Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men. You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house,” (Matthew 5:13-15).

Maybe the Apostle Paul “got that,” as he wrote under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, saying, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Certainly, he lived out these words as seen through his remarkable feats. The only difference between Paul and us is that he set out to apply personally everything he heard God saying, living up to his human potential.

In a widely read book, physician Maxwell Maltz estimated that 95 percent of all people in our society feel inferior. Environmental and cultural conditioning have played major roles in the formation of attitudes and feelings which produce low self-esteem. Some, of course, have more difficulty than others, but almost everyone to some degree must cope with this unwholesome condition.

“Why?” might be an appropriate question with this issue, for knowing a cause could allow significant changes, or advantages for future generations. Jess Lair, doctor of psychology and author of I ain’t much, baby—but I’m all I’ve got, brings out an interesting theory regarding the Zulus in South Africa, how their “cups” were filled with love, allowing self-assurance and high personal esteem.

Lair perceives that if you are, “ … born a Zulu, you were nursed at your mother’s breast and carried on your mother’s back with your bare skin against her warm, bare skin for two solid years. You were given more physical contact and more physical love and affection than probably any but a handful of children in American culture get … When his two years were up and a new baby came along, it was time for him to be put down on the ground. Often his cup was still not filled with physical love. But he had lots of kids in his village to love him. Because their cups had been filled, they didn’t hate little kids and weren’t mean to them and angry at them. When this little Zulu child cried because he needed to be carried and held, one of the older children picked him up and held him and carried him around . . . so there was a continuation of physical love and affection from both boys and girls as well as from the mother.”

Obviously, the Zulus did not have an ideal society, but they had a beautiful gift in that the whole tribe acted as “mamoos” and “dadoos” to one another. Each child grew up thinking he/she was beautiful and that belonging to his/her tribe was the greatest of honors. They treasured each other.” 

These people had optimum self-esteem—that is until the plight of their nation became such that they were compelled to move into the cities for survival. There, juvenile delinquency and interpersonal strife developed among their members in just a few decades.

The nurturing seen in the Zulu story is no doubt something we can learn from. But equally important is what we tell children about themselves as they grow – how much effort we take to build their self-esteem.

It is not too late for adults, either. There is much we can do for one another through frequent affirmation of strengths and talents—looking for beauty rather than faults, finding the “treasure” in one another. In so doing, we will not only expand our boundaries, but also those of others.

First, we must come to think highly of ourselves. A beginning step can be taken in noting and identifying all the negative messages we have been telling ourselves. Second, make an assessment of what is good and gifted about our personhood. Third, to begin listening to what God’s Word says about us, taking steps to believe it by replacing our negatives with Truth. In time, feelings of competence, worth and significance will increase, for our feelings follow our thoughts.

One psychologist claims that all personal problems are rooted in lack of self-love. Yet, as long as we entertain self-deprecating dictums allowed to play on and on in our heads, it is hardly possible to love ourselves.

Jesus said, “I came to testify to the truth.”  We are commissioned to follow His example. But wouldn’t it be a good idea to find out the truth about ourselves first?  All we have to lose are those unseen barriers made up of feelings of being powerless, inadequate, and of possessing limited ability.

Then, as Jesus said, the truth will set you free.