I once had a friend who had a peculiar way of addressing me—two names, actually. One was complimentary, the other derogatory. When I behaved well according to this person’s standards, I was a “Pastor.” But if I fell short in their eyes, I became “Aboki.” It was a strange dynamic, and at first, I tried to navigate it with patience and humor. Thank God Jesus didn’t change Peter’s name every time he messed up (John 1:42). Likewise, God bears with us when we fail, and His grace covers our imperfections, even when others might judge harshly. This reminds us that building Godly character isn’t about perfection in the eyes of people, but about growing in grace and integrity under God’s watchful care.
Over time, however, it became clear that the relationship was beginning to erode. The values that had once held us together were being compromised. I started to notice subtle signs: a lack of respect, diminished communication, and a general disregard for my worth. I realized that if a relationship is built on inconsistency—where you’re celebrated one moment and diminished the next—it will not survive. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 reminds us: “Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.” In this case, the help and support were inconsistent at best, and I had to make a conscious decision about my next steps.
As a personal practice, I’ve often found that when someone offends me, undervalues me, or looks down on me in a way that affects my spirit, it is better to leave with peace rather than anger. One of the ways I practiced this was by giving a gift before parting ways. The gift served as a symbolic act: it allowed me to leave without carrying bitterness or resentment in my mind. I wanted closure, not conflict. In moments like these, knowing your worth helps you act from a place of dignity rather than emotion, reminding you that your value isn’t defined by how others treat you.
This approach had served me well in the past. So one day, I went to the market, found a beautiful wristwatch, and purchased it specifically for this person. I intended it as a farewell gift, a final gesture that represented respect despite the diminishing value I received in return. But here’s where it gets humorous. In the spirit of honesty—and perhaps a little mischief—I decided to wrap the gift in a very fake, funny, and even ridiculous way. The packaging itself spoke volumes: it was an illustration of the “Aboki” label I had been called. I wasn’t trying to prove myself; the wrapping alone made the statement. Proverbs 22:1 says, “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold.” I realized that my value was not dependent on someone else’s perception; my integrity and intentionality mattered far more.
When I handed over the gift, I observed the reaction immediately. “What kind of gift is this again, this my Aboki friend?” the person exclaimed. I simply smiled and said nothing, knowing that the gesture had already spoken louder than words ever could. This was my way of saying goodbye with dignity, leaving an impression, but not seeking approval. The gift was meant to close the chapter, not reopen it. In moments like these, taking responsibility for your actions means acting with integrity and intention, ensuring that even your departures reflect your character rather than reacting to others’ judgments.
The real surprise came a short while later. After taking the gift home and opening it, the person called me, astonished: “You mean you bought this for me? Ha! This is wonderful. Thank you very much!” I replied simply, “You’re welcome.” That was the extent of the conversation. I felt peace, knowing I had left nothing unresolved on my end.
After giving the gift, I intentionally ended the relationship. She had already shown me that my presence in her life was undervalued. She had even blocked me on WhatsApp before receiving the gift, signaling that she had emotionally disengaged long before I officially walked away. I understood then that attachment alone should never dictate our decisions; being invested in someone who does not recognize your worth only leads to frustration and wasted energy. Matthew 10:14 instructs us, “And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words, when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet.” Leaving was the right choice.
Interestingly, the gift seemed to stir something within her. I imagined she was reflecting silently, perhaps thinking, “Does this guy really know good things like this?” or “Did he do this out of genuine love?” Her amazement suggested that even small acts of integrity and kindness can awaken awareness and respect—even in those who have undervalued us. Galatians 6:7-8 reminds us, “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.” In this case, my intentional sowing of peace, generosity, and dignity bore fruit—even if I no longer had a place in her life. This shows that treating everyone right—regardless of how they treat you—plants seeds of respect and leaves a lasting impact beyond words.
Eventually, she called again, wanting to rekindle the relationship. But by then, I was gone for good. I had learned the hard way that value, respect, and emotional investment must be mutual. If someone does not value you, holding on only prolongs disappointment. Psalm 37:4-5 encourages us: “Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.” I had committed this situation to God, and He confirmed through peace that walking away was the right choice.
The lesson is simple yet profound: whatever you do not value, you will lose. This is true in relationships, work, and even personal pursuits. I am not claiming perfection, but I often wonder why people remain in situations where they are undervalued, allowing emotional attachment to grow, only to realize later that their efforts were never truly appreciated. Proverbs 23:6-7 reminds us: “Eat thou not the bread of him that hath an evil eye, neither desire thou his dainty meats: For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he.”
If someone is not your type, does not bring value, or consistently disrespects your life, it is better to let them go early. Emotional attachment alone should not dictate your decisions. Walking away is not rejection; it is self-respect, wisdom, and obedience to God. As Jesus taught, “No man can serve two masters” (Matthew 6:24). In other words, your heart cannot be divided between being valued and being undervalued—it must be aligned with truth and self-worth.
In the end, leaving allowed me to invest my time and heart into relationships and opportunities that truly mattered. I walked away not with bitterness, but with peace, dignity, and clarity. I left a legacy of intentionality and kindness behind me, knowing that God honors those who honor themselves and walk in integrity.
So the next time someone undervalues you, remember: your peace, your self-respect, and your focus on God matter far more than proving yourself to someone who does not appreciate you. Leave gracefully, give generously, and trust that God will bring people into your life who truly see your worth.
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