I’m Not Religious
Clickbait. Gotta love it.
Clickbait works because it is a form of irresistible manipulation. Those who use it just know that people are unable to say no to some forms of temptation. Let’s take a look at a few examples out of the hundreds plaguing the Internet.
“Most people have only been to four of these famous cities,” followed by a list of twenty or thirty or forty cities. It really doesn’t matter what cities you choose — or, for that matter, who cares about cities? The trap could be a list of movies, TV shows, or fruits you’ve eaten. Take your pick.
The point is that clickbait is an instant challenge to your worth. Your heart immediately latches on. Am I as good as others? Do I measure up? And then, with no actual choice being made, you start counting cities — because, at the very least, you must beat four, and if you’ve been to eighteen, you can proudly post, “I’ve been to eighteen cities on the list,” and then scroll through other responses to see how you measure up. Or more importantly, how many people you beat.
What begins as a meaningless evaluation of cities you have visited morphs into a validation that your life has meaning. You can prove your greatness — and who knows, someone might “like” your count.
Here’s another one. “The government is going to outlaw this gadget before the end of the month. Sign up now to get this life-changing offer before it is gone forever!” Do they really expect us to believe the government is going to make some AI mechanical puppy illegal? Click if you absolutely must buy something you didn’t even know existed until the ad appeared. FOMO is strong.
Another favorite appeared in my feed this morning. “If you could go back in time to speak to your twenty-one-year-old self, what would you say? You have four words.” What is interesting about this challenge is how universal and similar human experience really is. Everyone has something they wish they could go back and change. Deep down, we know we have done things that are wrong or regrettable. But what struck me hardest was the answer the person who posted the question provided: “Always love yourself first.”
What a profound statement. What a curious statement. What a thoroughly religious statement.
Let’s dig in on this.
Many people make the claim, “I’m not religious.” The phrase gets used in a few different ways.
First — and this may be slightly dated — a person might use it to mean they are not following any of the major established religions: Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, or any other. This often comes across as defensive, as if following an established religion is a bad thing.
Which is why this first meaning feels increasingly dated. In the 21st century, at least in the West, younger people have been taught that religions are the cause of most problems and should be avoided. For people with this mindset firmly established, “I’m not religious” is a confident assertion that they haven’t been tricked into believing something outdated, irrelevant, and dangerous. Bottom line: they want no association with any established religion.
A second reason a person might say they aren’t religious is simply to claim that they don’t believe in anything — or at least, that nothing controls them. This perspective travels hand in hand with the companion belief that convictions are personal preference, unique to each individual. “I have my own beliefs.” “I follow what is best for me.”
From talking with people who hold this view, I’ve found it unlikely that they have reflected on religion in general, or on any specific religion closely. Instead, this viewpoint reflects one of the most basic drives of humanity: what matters is getting what I want.
Which brings us back to the person who posted, “Always love yourself first.”
All religions share certain structural features. They have articulated principles. They carry a sense of purpose that drives believers toward certain actions. And they hold a vision of a destiny — a hope that provides meaning and keeps people going.
“Always love yourself first” has all three.
It is a clearly stated principle — the kind of thing you could print on a mug or hang on the fridge. And notice: the person who posted it was not merely sharing a personal quirk. She was declaring a doctrine she believes everyone else should live by, too. In other words, she is an evangelist for her religion. You should always love yourself first. Hmm.
Her phrase also implies a sense of purpose. Somewhere in her thinking there is an if/then logic embedded in the principle: If I love myself first, then I will attain / receive / become… something. Fill in the blank. Based on this logic, a person devoted to self-love will have a list of habits, attitudes, and choices that make up what self-love actually looks like in practice — an articulated set of rules for a meaningful life.
Imagine a determined athlete. The driving statement might be, If I train every day, then I will reach the top of my sport. Daily exercise is not optional — it is imperative. Self-love works the same way. Actions flow from what the mind determines is most important.
But notice something else — the final religious element, the one that often goes unnoticed. Every serious life perspective carries an implicit vision of a destiny that provides hope. The diligent athlete holds the gold medal in their mind. That hope, kept at the front of consciousness, drives the daily work and provides the strength to push on through obstacles.
The belief that you must love yourself first carries the same structure. There is some vision of personal destiny embedded in it — some hope that this way of living will, eventually, satisfy your deepest needs and desires.
For the record, this “loving yourself first” mindset is a leap of faith. We know that gravity works and that water freezes at thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit. But just as daily training doesn’t guarantee the gold medal, there is no guarantee that loving yourself first will produce the life you’re hoping for. People hope it works. They believe it. It is a faith statement at the core of a personal religion.
They are religious.
Maybe you don’t buy this line of thinking. That’s fine. But this perspective comes with a few warnings at the back of the owner’s manual.
If you live by the principle of putting yourself first, there are implications. First, by definition, you must put other people after you. The full outcome of this I leave to your imagination — but consider: what would it be like for you if all of your friends always put themselves first and gave no thought to you? Could any friendship survive that? Second, no one can truly share this belief with you. One of the deepest joys in life is being able to hold the most important things together with another person. Is there anyone out there who genuinely wants to put you first, all the time, forever? Third, when you fail at putting yourself first — and you will fail — the experience will be crushing. Since loving yourself first is your primary governing principle, the real world will lead you to that failure over and over again.
There is one final challenge embedded in all of this — implicit throughout this entire post, but worth naming plainly. It can be asked in a single question:
Based on the stories you tell yourself every day — what is your religion?