Why self-care isn’t selfish when you see it through the eyes of faith
In the last post, Permission to Not Be Fine, I gave you permission to not be fine. Maybe you breathed a little easier reading it. Maybe you also felt a familiar voice pipe up: “Okay, but isn’t focusing on myself kind of selfish?”
I want to be honest with you. I understand that voice. I’ve had it too.
The problem with “self-care”
The phrase “self-care” has picked up some baggage. Scroll for five minutes and you’ll see it used to sell bath bombs, justify cutting people off, or make everything about “me, me, me.” For many of us who grew up in church, it can sound a lot like the opposite of what Jesus taught. We were raised to put others first, to serve, to deny ourselves.
So when someone tells a tired, burned out woman to “practice self-care,” a part of her quietly pulls back. It feels self-centered. Maybe even a little narcissistic.
And honestly? I think that instinct is partly right. Care that is all about self, that puts me at the center of the universe, isn’t what we’re after.
But what if we’ve been looking at it from the wrong angle?
You carry something sacred
The very first chapter of the Bible tells us who we are:
“So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27)
You were made in the image of God. Not just the people you serve. Not just your kids, your spouse, your aging parents, your coworkers. You.
And if you follow Jesus, scripture goes even further. Paul writes about “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). He reminds us that our bodies are “temples of the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 6:19).
So here’s the question I can’t stop thinking about: if Christ lives in you, what does it mean when you run yourself into the ground?
“Whatever you did for the least of these”
Most of us know this passage well. Jesus describes people who fed the hungry, welcomed the stranger, cared for the sick, and visited those in prison. Then he says:
“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:40)
We apply this verse to everyone else. We bring meals. We sit with friends in the hospital. We show up.
But we rarely apply it to the person in the mirror. The woman who hasn’t slept well in months. The one skipping her own doctor’s appointments. The one whose heart is quietly breaking while she keeps everyone else afloat.
What if, some days, you are “the least of these”? What if the hungry, tired, hurting one who needs care is you?
When you care for the image of God in yourself, you’re not turning away from Christ. You’re caring for someone he loves and lives in.
A helpful lens: the parts of you
In my work as a therapist trainee, I often use an approach called Internal Family Systems, or IFS. You don’t need any background to understand the basic idea.
IFS suggests that we all have different “parts” inside us. You probably already talk this way. “Part of me wants to go to the party, and part of me wants to stay home.” Some parts work very hard to keep us safe, like the part that pushes you to keep going no matter what, or the part that says “I’m fine” before anyone can ask. Other parts carry old hurts, fear, or shame that we’ve tucked away.
Underneath all those parts, IFS describes a calm, kind, curious center. It calls this the “Self.” It’s the part of you that can sit with your own pain without panicking or judging.
Many Christians, including me, see something beautiful here. That steady, compassionate center looks a lot like the place where God’s image shines through in us. It’s where the Spirit’s fruit of love, patience, and gentleness can flow, not only toward others but toward our own hurting places.
So when you pause to notice the exhausted part of you, or the scared younger part that learned she had to be “fine” to be loved, and you respond with kindness instead of criticism, you’re doing something holy. You’re treating “the least of these” inside you the way Jesus would.
Love your neighbor as yourself
When Jesus named the greatest commandments, he said:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength… Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mark 12:30-31)
Notice that little word: as. The command assumes that some kind of healthy love for yourself is already there. It isn’t the goal on its own. But it’s part of the picture.
And practically speaking, you can’t pour from an empty cup. A woman who is running on fumes may still be serving, but often she’s serving out of fear, guilt, or resentment rather than love. Caring for yourself isn’t stepping away from your calling. It’s what keeps you able to live it.
Selfish versus faithful
So here’s the reframe I want to leave you with.
Selfish care puts me on the throne. It says, “My comfort matters most.”
Faithful care honors the image of God in me. It says, “This life, this body, this heart were entrusted to me, and Christ lives here. I will tend them well.”
One worships the self. The other worships God by caring for what he made.
What this might look like
Faithful self-care doesn’t have to be fancy. It might look like:
- Going to bed instead of answering one more email.
- Finally making that appointment you’ve been putting off.
- Saying no to something so you can say yes to rest.
- Asking for help, even when a part of you insists you should handle it alone.
- Sitting quietly with God and letting yourself be honest about how you really are.
- Reaching out to a counselor to care for the wounded places you’ve carried for years.
None of these are selfish. Each one is a small way of saying, “The image of God in me is worth caring for.”
A question to sit with
This week, try asking yourself:
If Jesus found me in the state I’m in right now, how would he care for me?
Then, as best you can, do that.
You’ve had permission to not be fine. Now I’m inviting you a step further. Caring for yourself isn’t walking away from your faith. It may be one of the most faithful things you do.
If you’re ready for support in caring for the tired, hurting parts of you, I’d be honored to walk alongside you. You can reach me at Attune Center for Healing.