I’ve spent some time recently swimming in the muddy waters of what’s been coined “me-ology”—or the trend in some Christian circles to focus on self-actualization, confidence, and success. As usual, I did things backwards, and read two book refuting this sort of tainted (if not outright false) gospel before reading more from the big names in those circles. So, I got Girl, Wash Your Face from the library to see what all the buzz was about (yes, two years late, I know).
Girl. It was no fun.
I’m an INTP, Enneagram 5. Please don’t talk to me like you know me if we’ve never met.
On a positive note, I enjoyed how she structured her chapters with bullet points at the end listing things that helped her overcome fears, obstacles, or regrets. Some of her suggestions were helpful, and I don’t want to take away from the fact that she’s worked hard to achieve her success. Overall, though, I came away frustrated. It is clear that her definition of the success revolves around celebrity, career, wealth, and comfort. This wouldn’t be so much of a problem if she didn’t also actively remind her readers of her faith.
In the end, I’d like to ask her: Do you realize that you are going to die?
Missing Pieces
All of her advice is geared toward a happier, more successful life on earth. By weaving Christian lingo in to her chapters and stringing references to her faith throughout the book, she places it as a central piece of her work, and moves her book from the category of career and goal-setting how-to into a more holistic sort of faith-based self-help book. And by labelling herself a Christian, she holds herself up as a role model while preaching what ends up being a false, or perhaps at best syncretistic gospel. She recognizes that people are not happy, but instead of pointing them to the story of redemption and telling the story of a God who rescues people who cannot save themselves, she tells her own story—a story where she rescued herself from the things that held her back. And, most prominently, instead of presenting the way to achieving real eternal happiness, she urges her readers to follow her into worldly success and empowerment.
And so, for all its motivational appeal, there’s a barb hidden in Hollis’s work. As a self-proclaimed Christian, it seems unkind to offer readers a gospel of self-actualization, a gospel of work, striving after material things, and conditional inner peace when you know (or should know) that true happiness is found in work that has been finished and offered freely to us. Working hard is important. But it will only get us so far in life. Ultimately, we will still wind up at the grave. And when we get there, what hope can Hollis’s gospel of self-fulfillment offer?
Faulty Foundations
It is not wrong to want to be successful and happy, and it is not bad to work to achieve those things. It’s great to coach others along the way. But it is problematic for believers to offer that sort of advice as if those goals and desires are ultimate. Hollis herself admits that her success hasn’t brought satisfaction. Most of us know, at least in theory, the dangers of storing up treasures on earth. We also know, or ought to, the dangers of leading others astray. However, for all of her words proclaiming her faith, I did not come away from her book with confidence that Hollis knows either of those.
If Hollis has any good advice at all (which she does!), it’s built on sand—its foundation is only as strong as your own endurance or resolve. She states no purpose for success outside of one’s own feeling of success. Her readers, she claims, are not using their “God-given” talents to their full potential. This is fair, perhaps, but she does a poor job of explaining why they should use them outside of self-satisfaction, if she even tries at all. All of the success in Girl, Wash Your Face is by your own effort, for your own sake. Christians should know that this sort of success probably won’t last a lifetime, and definitely won’t last into eternity. Unfortunately, I did not come away from Hollis’ book confident that she knows this, either.
Missed Opportunity
And this is the tragedy of Hollis’ work. Had she remembered her death, Hollis may have been able to give her readers a better foundation on which to build their success instead of luring them to a gospel of comfort and self-focused success. If she had remembered that she will someday die it would have rounded out her definition of success in a way that would have been a great help to her readers. Instead, she offers her readers only a temporal success that, as Ecclesiastes tells us, is only a vapor. All of our work on earth will be gone within decades, and probably sooner. In the long run, it is meaningless. Unless we recognize the work of another.
Christ’s work is eternal. And it is only by joining in his work that our work has value. Even the most menial tasks become valuable when they are tethered to his work on the cross, a story outside of our own. When we see our work in its proper place as part of the story of redemption—creation, fall, redemption, consummation—it takes on a value far greater than we can give it on our own.
If we do not remember that we are dust, and like Hollis focus only on what our work can accomplish for us, we are left striving after the wind. Eventually it will leave us not only exhausted, but with nothing to show for our efforts.
In contrast, remembering our death means that we can, as Matthew McCullough points out in his book Remember Death, rest—even as we’re working. Our work, whether it’s in a career, parenting or even eating and exercising, won’t save us—Christ’s work will. Even when we are stuck in the most lowly work, McCullough says, “[we] get to reflect the glory of the One who put every star in its place, marked off the oceans, and ordered every species.”[1]
And that success, I think, is a much more satisfying than any amount of wealth, status, or earthly comfort.
[1]Remember Death, 114.
