When I was a boy, one of the steady influences in my life was National Geographic magazine. My mom always made sure that it was available around our house, so over the years I had plenty of opportunities to dive into its pages.

Looking back, I remember being astounded at the pictures I saw in that magazine. From exotic birds and tropical rainforests to newly-discovered plants and ferocious beasts—they all seemed so far from my little world in the Carolinas. It was amazing.

And every now and then, there would be a National Geographic feature story about an unfamiliar people group. These were my absolute favorite; I found them to be fascinating every time.

So with glossy pages open before me, I’d pour over snapshots and words, analyzing the behaviors and practices of individuals and families whose lives were vastly different from mine. I wondered at their routines. I investigated their environments. I studied their relationship patterns. I questioned their eating habits.

Why would anyone want to hunt all day? I thought, and, Imagine sleeping in the jungle! Or, What would I do if I lived with my grandparents? Or better yet, How in the world could anyone eat hippo meat?

It was like opening a door to a whole new world. Simple photos and informative statistics combined for a telling, compelling picture of life. I couldn’t get enough.

A few days ago, for some reason I remembered reading all those articles, and I had to wonder: if National Geographic ran a feature story on my family, my community, my country, what kind of life would it be picturing?

The first thing I thought of was wealth. Then power. After all, we are a people who value getting to the top, whether it’s an income bracket or corporate ladder. Unrelenting work ethic and ruthless business deals are rewarded and revered—just pick up a copy of Fortune magazine and you’ll see.

Those of us who never stop are the ones who receive the most accolades. Those of us who hoard are most often held up as examples. Somehow, we’ve managed to confuse authority and riches with real accomplishments.

And that’s to say nothing of beauty and celebrity, a couple more examples of the “achievements” we worship. (Check out People and US Weekly as perfect reference points here.)

We’d rather imitate the woman with the smallest waistline than the woman with the biggest heart. We build up muscle tone but sacrifice strength of character. We spend millions of dollars on clothes, jewelry, haircuts, shoes, looks.

People make full-time jobs—that’s right, full-time jobs—of stalking actors, musicians, and rich teenagers, just to take their pictures. Why? Because what is valued is what pays. In our world, fame pays.

Imagine a little boy or girl in a far-off country paging through a National Geographic feature about a society like ours. What would they think of us? How would they perceive our value systems? Would snapshots from our lives make them want to live here?

I’m guessing it would be a toss-up.

Ours is a glossy, glamorous life, to be sure. But when you stop and consider its roots—selfishness, greed, vanity, and ego trips—it doesn’t seem very inviting, does it?

Trust me, unless we make a conscious effort in our own homes to live outside those roots, we will never have the makings of a great civilization. Unless we practice selflessness, sharing, modesty, and humility, ours will be the company that nobody wants.

People will read our stories and study our pictures, and they’ll want nothing of it. Little boys and little girls in distant places will learn about our customs and sneer. Compared to what we’re offering, even hippo meat will sound really good.