Sometimes I find myself on a random Thursday dreaming of a solo trip to the Bahamas. It’s on these days where I am decidedly more likely to make several extra trips to the pantry, hunting for chocolate in any form. By the time I’ve hit this level of desperation, I make no distinction to satiate my ravenous appetite. I’ll take the Nutella straight from the spoon. Heck, I’ll eat the chocolate chips reserved for baking. 

And if I’m not careful, I am quick to excuse my compulsive behavior as an act of self-care. 

Self-care. There’s a phrase our culture holds in high esteem these days. What does it even mean? On my better days, I have a more accurate grasp of its definition. I equate it to good stewardship over my body and my mind. Some days it looks like waking up a few minutes earlier to go for a run just as the sun is shyly peaking above the horizon. On these days, I’m more prone to take my vitamins and refill my water bottle more than once. I am intentional about what I allow into my mind and my body. Less scrolling, more purposed in my choices.

But I think there is a discrepancy between how the world views self-care and how God defines it. We live in a morally-relativistic society that glorifies personal happiness above everything else. ‘If it is right for you, it is right’ the world touts. We are told to ‘treat ourselves’ and ‘live our truths’. This kind of thinking equates self-care with Netflix binges and reckless shopping sprees. It shouts ‘more, more, more’ and esteems instant gratification above any form of discipline or self-control.

self care is an act of stewardship over our bodies and minds that says “you are worth the investment, so I will continue to feed you nourishing things.”

I was thinking about this the other day during a conversation with Matt. Self-care is such a hot topic right now, and if I’m honest, most days I wish I had more of it. More of what, exactly? I’m not entirely sure. All I know is that as a mom of two energetic little boys, I run on an almost exclusively empty cup and the daydreaming has become more frequent. 

“What does self-care as a believer even look like?” I asked my husband. Is there even space for it amidst the conversations where Jesus calls us to “deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow Him.” That doesn’t sound very pampering. So what? Do we just run ourselves into the ground in the name of ministry? Surely not.

The call to deny ourselves, I think, is not a call to neglect our basic needs. It is a warning that the more we feed our flesh, the more we starve our spirit. If we view our souls like a garden, self-care takes on an entirely new meaning. Gardening requires watering and planting and uprooting weeds from time to time. It is an act of stewardship over our bodies and minds that says “you are worth the investment, so I will continue to feed you nourishing things.” Self-care then becomes less about negligence of responsibility and more about what it would look like to love ourselves well. The world would tell us to indulge today and pay the price tomorrow, but God reminds us that true fulfillment comes when we make choices today for the fruit they will bear tomorrow. 

For me, I am learning that self-care looks a lot more like leaving my phone in the other room rather than scrolling mindlessly for hours. It looks like setting aside one day every week dedicated for rest so my cup can begin to be refilled. It looks like ample time spent outside in the sunshine and taking my supplements because I know both impact my mental health in a positive way. It means reaching out to a friend when I feel like holing up and wallowing in self-loathing. It means setting aside time to do something I enjoy, like journaling or moving my body. Sometimes it is a hot bath or even a solo shopping trip to spark some excitement, but it is never exclusively those things. 

If I hadn’t already tried it and learned definitively that it does not work, I would continue advocating for self-care as the antithesis of discipline. But I’ve tried both, and I know which one leaves me feeling more depressed and anxious and which one breathes new life into my soul. And I want to be careful to differentiate the things that make a garden flourish from the things that create a barren wasteland. Some days it’s the pedicure, but most days it’s the prayer.