Self Care Vs. Culture Care
I love boundaries. I’m all about them. I’ve thrown full-on celebrations for friends who said no to something for the sake of their well-being. I believe what we choose to invest in is a matter of wisdom, and we should consider what we’re saying no to when we say yes to something else. Almost all of my closest friends are introverts, and I’m always watching for signs they might be overbooking, checking in to see if they need time alone.
But I think we’re in a moment of reckoning with the whole “self-care” concept. People are realizing that bath bombs and solo evenings… feel incomplete.
Some think pieces on the topic—thankfully—go deeper, redefining self-care to include the need for therapy, taking accountability for your mistakes, actively managing anxiety.
But often, it still isolates us. It adds to the solo to-do list: now you’re not just asking me to keep a skin-care routine, I’m also supposed to journal every day?
Ironically, self-care and self-love can become a subtle instrument of shame, telling us to “fix ourselves” before we let others in. The unspoken message is: get yourself together. Get better first. Get rested first, get zen first, get holy first. Then—and only then—will you have something worth offering other people.
As if people weren’t always meant to be part of what it means to experience care and love.
Biblically, care is never only a solo act. The New Testament’s “one another” commands—love one another, encourage one another, bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2)—are a constant reminder that care is a communal calling. Even “doing the work” on yourself means vulnerability. Accountability requires other people being, at times, hurt and able to tell you so. Self-care also means letting other people care for you (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10).
What if instead of self-care, we emphasized community care? What if care meant showing up in one another’s lives, rather than silo-ing ourselves?
But I think Scripture calls us even further: beyond self-care, beyond community care, toward culture care. Not just tending to our own well-being or our friends’ well-being, but shaping the environment we all live in—what we normalize, how we live, what our presence multiplies in the world (Matthew 5:13–16).
Self-care and boundaries are a means, not the end. Community care—loving your neighbor—is another, very significant means. But culture care? That’s the goal.
It means building a world where people bring their weaknesses to one another and help bear the load. A world where love involves sacrifice (John 15:12–13). And sometimes that sacrifice looks like saying no to people-pleasing so you can rest. Sometimes it looks like showing up when you’d rather be at home in the bath.
If you look at Scripture, the emphasis is rarely on the individual—or even on “the family unit” as we define it in the modern West. That’s not to say individuals and families don’t matter, but the Old Testament is clearly aimed at forming an entire culture that reflects God’s character. And when Jesus comes, He redefines family in a nontraditional way (“Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother,” Matthew 12:50) and He focuses on a whole new way of being human together.
From the beginning, God says, “It is not good for man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18). He gives us relationships so we can live fully. That goes far beyond marriage—He calls us together to cultivate the earth (Genesis 1:28), to establish rhythms and festivals (Leviticus 23), to create a shared identity in Him (Exodus 19:5-6).
In fact, there is an even more plural call maybe better described as cultures-care! Because even in diversity, this call remains. At Babel, God disperses people into different cultures and languages (Genesis 11:1–9), and Revelation paints a vision of heaven where those differences remain and glorify God—“every nation, tribe, people, and language” (Revelation 7:9). Caring for our cultures matters more than just caring for ourselves as individuals.
So… how can you care for the culture you’ve been given? How can you open yourself to the work your culture demands of you? What can you normalize in the spaces you inhabit?
Because I think our modern vision of self-care can cut us off from the connection we’re designed for. To “care for self” without caring for our communities and cultures is a critical contradiction.
For me, part of my self-care right now is refusing to normalize a culture of self-focused self-care! It’s showing up in weakness. It’s apologizing and admitting when I can’t do something, and trying, and failing, and asking other people to please help.
And when I live that way—when my boundaries, my relationships, and my habits aim toward culture care—I feel most whole.
