“What do you do?” When meeting someone for the first time, this is one of the first questions we usually ask. There's a sense that once we discover what people do for a living, we will have a better idea of who they are and what value they offer to the world.

Living in a status-driven society, we also quickly determine—whether consciously or unconsciously—our station in relation to others. Are we more or less important? Who is in a position of authority? Are these people worthy of my respect and admiration?

Some of us may take this a step further and wonder—and perhaps worry—what others think of us. Do they acknowledge my importance? Do they view me as successful? Do they recognize my special skills or abilities?

It's a sad reality that many people treat others according to how they perceive their level of status. As such, we have a vested interest in achieving excellence and power as this generally results in people treating us better.

When our happiness depends on how people perceive us (and possessing what they have), we become afflicted with what Alain de Botton refers to as “status anxiety.” In his book Status Anxiety, de Botton outlines five major causes that lead to this social disease (lovelessness, expectation, meritocracy, snobbery, dependence) and then offers five solutions, one of which is Christianity.

De Botton argues that the constant struggle to stand out in the crowd and be different usually only leads to bitterness, shame and depression. Christianity, on the other hand, has the opportunity to build community. “Being like everyone else is not, to follow Christian thought, any sort of calamity,” he writes, “for it was one of Jesus' central claims that all human beings, including the slow-witted, the untalented and the obscure, are creatures of God and loved by him—and are hence deserving of the honour owed to every example of the Lord's work.”

As Christians, we're called to look beyond our differences and discover what binds us together. Every person has vulnerabilities, every person has a desire for love, but it's often difficult for us to view others in this way.

Jesus knew this. When the disciples, perhaps jostling among themselves for positions of authority, asked him, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” he responded by calling over a small child. “Truly I tell you,” said Jesus, “unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes a humble place—becoming like this child—is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3-4).

While it's easy to dismiss or judge a stranger, it's much harder to do so with a child. When we seek to treat others with the same kindness and compassion we'd naturally show to the young, we come closer to realizing God's kingdom on earth.

“So it is that belonging is the place where we grow to maturity and discover what it means to be human and to act in a human way,” writes Jean Vanier in Becoming Human. “It is the place we need in order to live and to act in society in justice, in truth, without seeking power, privileges and honours for our own self-glory. It is the place where we learn to be humble but also audacious and to take initiatives in working with others.”

The practice of Christian fellowship—whether simply gathering in a home or worshipping in a church building—has the potential to tear down society's value system. When our focus is on loving God and loving our neighbour, it matters little to us whether the person sitting next to us is a panhandler or a doctor. Nor are we worried about what the person sitting next to us thinks of our career choice or fashion sense.

At our best, The Salvation Army has done this well. Historically we have long cared for “others” and sought the “whosoever.” Even our early manner of dress encouraged a sense of unity, as inexpensive uniforms allowed rich and poor to look the same. And in an effort to seek justice for the oppressed, we have enacted numerous societal reforms around the world.

At our worst, we can too easily fall into the traps of seeking power (abuse of rank and appointments), segregating clergy and laity, lauding our most-successful members and self-promoting our organization too zealously.

In his opening thesis, de Botton suggests that “the hunger for status, like all appetites, can have its uses: spurring us to do justice to our talents, encouraging excellence, restraining us from harmful eccentricities and cementing members of a society around a common value system. But, like all appetites, its excesses can also kill.”

As Salvationists, let us not hunger for status, but rather yearn for God's goodness to permeate every aspect of our society. When God is at the centre of our passions, we will be united and seek to use our talents and abilities for the glory of his Kingdom.

John McAlister is features editor and web producer for The Salvation Army's Editorial Department.