We live in a world where lines are drawn quickly: between us and them, worthy and unworthy, right and wrong, visible and invisible. It’s easy to forget, in the tide of division and disagreement, that every person we encounter carries the image of God.

It’s not just theology. It’s truth. From the mother holding her baby in the shelter line to the neighbor who gets on your last nerve; from the outspoken activist to the quiet man bagging your groceries; each one is fashioned by divine hands, loved beyond measure, and called by name.

Jesus never encountered someone and failed to see their value.

The leper — touched.
The Samaritan woman — heard.
The tax collector — called.
The woman caught in adultery — protected.
The thief on the cross — welcomed.

Not once did Jesus say, “You don’t count.”

Instead, He shattered social norms and religious walls to restore dignity where it had been stripped. His ministry was not just about truth. It was about truth delivered in love, in eye contact, in compassion, in presence.

As followers of Christ, our lives are not meant to be measuring sticks of worthiness, but mirrors of mercy.

Dignity isn’t something someone earns by meeting our expectations. It’s something we acknowledge because God already placed it there.

You may disagree with someone’s choices.
You may struggle to understand their culture, politics, lifestyle, or even their tone.
But disagreement is never license for dehumanization.

Ephesians 4:2 reminds us:

“Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.”

We bear with one another because love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a posture. It bows low, listens deeply, and chooses compassion even when it’s hard.

How we treat those with no power over us says everything about who we are in Christ.

Do we talk over the quiet ones?
Dismiss the elderly?
Mock those struggling?
Ignore the poor?
Hold grudges against those who’ve hurt us?

Or do we lean in with the grace we ourselves have received?

When we live as if every person matters, we become a living gospel. We reflect a Kingdom where the first are last and the unseen are seen.

Let’s be the people who pause before speaking harshly.
Who remember the barista’s name.
Who speak gently to the child acting out.
Who listen without correcting every flaw.
Who choose empathy over superiority.

Because when we do, we are doing something sacred.

We are joining Jesus in lifting the heads of the weary.
We are telling the world: “You matter, not because of what you do; but because of whose you are.”