Catchphrases & Christ (6): Why the Gospel Speaks a Better Word
Walk through social media for five minutes, and you’ll meet the new prophets of our age. They don’t carry Bibles; they carry ring lights. Their sermons are shot in perfect lighting, their tone is confident but compassionate, and their gospel is simple: “You have everything you need inside you.”
Life coaching has become the spirituality of the self-made world. In an era skeptical of organized religion but starving for meaning, coaching offers transformation without repentance, progress without grace, and hope without holiness. The life coach is the modern priest in a secular liturgy — promising freedom not from sin, but from self-doubt; salvation not through faith, but through focus.
This rise is not accidental. We live in a time of deep disorientation. Many are disillusioned with institutions — governments that corrupt, churches that wound, leaders that disappoint. Yet our hunger for direction remains. We still crave wisdom, affirmation, and a vision for a better life. Life coaching steps into that vacuum, offering something that sounds almost redemptive: “I’ll help you unlock your purpose and live your truth.”
But beneath the motivational quotes and morning routines lies a profound theological shift. As cultural theologian Carl Trueman observes, modern identity has become expressive — to be human is to look inward, discover your deepest desires, and live them out authentically. In that world, the coach replaces the pastor, and the mirror replaces the cross. The self is not something to be crucified, but something to be curated.
Life coaching isn’t inherently evil — mentorship, guidance, and wisdom are biblical goods. But coaching as a cultural movement has become a symptom of our age’s deepest idolatry: the worship of the autonomous self. It offers what one writer calls “discipleship without doctrine, therapy without transcendence, and purpose without repentance.” It teaches us how to achieve everything — except the one thing we truly need: reconciliation with God.
The gospel of coaching says, “The answers are within you.”
The gospel of Christ says, “The truth has come to you.”
That’s why, for all its optimism and technique, life coaching cannot redeem us. We don’t need a strategist to unlock our potential; we need a Saviour to transform our hearts.
Part I: The Rise of the Life Coach — Discipleship in the Age of the Self
The life coach did not emerge in a vacuum. The phenomenon reflects a wider cultural shift — one in which ancient forms of moral and spiritual authority have been replaced by the softer authority of “personal development.” In pre-modern societies, people looked upward to God and outward to community to discover who they were. In modern societies, we are taught to look inward. As Charles Taylor describes in A Secular Age, the modern self is “buffered” — sealed off from transcendence, confident in its autonomy, and allergic to dependence.
Life coaching is the logical extension of that worldview. It promises transcendence without the transcendent — meaning without mystery. Its underlying creed is humanistic: you already have what it takes; you just need help realizing it. The coach, then, becomes the secular shepherd — offering a roadmap to fulfillment that replaces divine revelation with personal strategy.
1. The Cultural Soil: From Pastors to Coaches
Historically, people turned to pastors, elders, or wise mentors for counsel about life’s direction. Their guidance was moral and theological — rooted in Scripture, community, and the pursuit of holiness. But as modernity privatized faith and professionalized spirituality, guidance moved from the pulpit to the marketplace. Where once we had shepherds of souls, we now have managers of potential.
This transition mirrors what Philip Rieff called the “triumph of the therapeutic.” In his landmark work The Triumph of the Therapeutic (1966), Rieff argued that modern Western culture replaced the idea of moral order with psychological well-being. The pastor’s goal was once to cultivate virtue; the coach’s goal is to cultivate success. The language has changed — from sin to mindset, from repentance to reframing, from salvation to self-actualization.
2. The African Turn: Coaching in the Hustle Economy
In Kenya and across much of Africa, the life-coaching boom has its own flavor. On TikTok and Instagram, you’ll find charismatic coaches offering “wealth mindset” classes, “purpose acceleration” courses, and “emotional intelligence” bootcamps. They mix biblical language with motivational slogans — “You are the head and not the tail,” “God helps those who help themselves,” — turning Scripture into strategy and faith into fuel for ambition.
Many of these voices emerge from a genuine desire to empower, especially in a context where unemployment, economic struggle, and disillusionment with leadership run deep. Coaching promises control in a world that feels chaotic. It gives young people a sense of direction — but often without discernment. What begins as mentorship easily morphs into manipulation when God’s voice is replaced by the idol of self-belief.
3. Discipleship Reimagined — and Distorted
At its heart, life coaching offers what looks and feels like discipleship. There are sessions (meetings), confessions (journaling), sacraments (vision boards), and even a kind of eschatology — the promised “transformed life.” But this is a discipleship with no cross, no cost, and no Christ. It baptizes self-expression in the language of growth and replaces sanctification with self-optimization.
In a world of constant advice, what we lack is not information, but revelation. Life coaches can help you clarify your goals, but they cannot give you a new heart. They can sharpen your skills, but they cannot atone for your sin. They can motivate you to act, but they cannot sanctify your motives.
This is why the Christian must discern the spiritual current beneath the cultural surface. The popularity of coaching is not merely a fad — it’s a symptom of a deeper crisis: a generation searching for shepherds, but settling for consultants.
Part II: The False Gospel of Self-Optimization
At its core, life coaching preaches a gospel — not of salvation by grace, but of transformation through insight. Its message is that the good life lies within your grasp if you can align your habits, mindset, and goals. But this is not new. It is the same human story retold in modern branding: the story of Babel, not Bethlehem.
1. The Creed of the Self-Made
Every gospel begins with a diagnosis of what’s wrong with the world. For life coaching, the problem is not sin but stagnation. You are not fallen, merely unfocused; not rebellious, merely misaligned. What you need, therefore, is not a Redeemer but a reframing — a better mindset, a stronger morning routine, a more positive self-talk loop.
This anthropology — this view of what it means to be human — assumes that people are basically good, just untrained. But Christianity tells a very different story. Augustine saw sin not as ignorance but as disordered love — our desires turned inward on ourselves rather than upward to God. Coaching cannot reorder the loves of the heart; it can only reorganize the habits of the calendar. It reshapes externals but leaves the root untouched.
John Calvin described the human heart as “a perpetual factory of idols.” Life coaching simply gives that factory better tools and shinier packaging. It baptizes self-centeredness in the language of empowerment. What once was pride — “I can do this on my own” — now sounds like confidence. What Scripture calls self-reliance, the coach calls self-belief.
2. When the Self Becomes the Saviour
Carl Trueman notes that modern culture defines authenticity as being true to your inner self. The life-coaching worldview takes that a step further — it defines salvation as unleashing that inner self. In this sense, the “self” becomes both problem and solution. The coach functions as a secular priest, interpreting your desires, affirming your potential, and prescribing practices for your personal resurrection.
But the gospel tells us that the self cannot save the self. Romans 7 is Paul’s confession that “I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.” The human will, apart from grace, is bound. We don’t need guidance toward self-expression; we need deliverance from self-deception.
Coaching culture celebrates autonomy — the idea that we are our own project, the potter and the clay in one. Yet this autonomy is precisely what Scripture names as rebellion. The first sin was not ignorance; it was independence — the desire to “be like God.” Coaching sanctifies that desire under the banner of growth.
3. The Idol of Optimization
Optimization is the new righteousness. We measure virtue in productivity apps and moral worth in metrics: time managed, goals achieved, followers gained. Our generation has replaced sanctification with “scaling.” The question is no longer, Am I faithful? but Am I improving?
But as C. S. Lewis warned, “We are not merely imperfect creatures who must be improved; we are rebels who must lay down our arms.” That’s the distinction life coaching cannot grasp. It seeks better habits where the gospel demands a new heart. It teaches discipline without dependence, resilience without repentance.
The gospel of self-optimization promises freedom, but it only deepens bondage — a treadmill of endless striving with no finish line. The “best version of you” is never enough, because the self was never meant to be the saviour.
4. Grace Is Not a Program
The life coach offers a process: step-by-step strategies toward success. The gospel offers a person: Christ Himself. Grace is not a system to master; it is a gift to receive. That’s what makes Christianity so scandalous in a culture addicted to performance.
In coaching, you pay for progress. In Christ, you receive pardon. Coaching can teach you how to manage your life; only Christ can give you new life. Coaching can help you set goals for tomorrow; only Christ can secure your eternity.
When Jesus said, “Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it,” He exposed the ultimate lie of self-optimization: that life can be found by perfecting the self. True life is found only by surrendering it.
Part III: When Motivation Replaces Meaning
The promise of life coaching is that it will unlock your “potential.” It offers strategies, affirmations, and frameworks to help you “live your best life.” But here lies the problem — when the primary goal becomes self-optimization, meaning quietly disappears. Life becomes an endless self-improvement project. You are always “in progress,” but never at peace.
Many modern coaches speak the language of purpose but strip it from its source. You’ll hear phrases like “find your why,” “manifest your destiny,” or “design your life.” Yet the “why” often begins and ends with you — your goals, your desires, your fulfillment. It becomes a mirror with no window beyond the self. The horizon shrinks.
In a biblical worldview, purpose is not something you invent; it’s something you receive. Meaning flows not from self-discovery but from divine calling — “we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works” (Ephesians 2:10). The Christian life begins with surrender, not strategy.
That’s why motivation, though useful, is a poor substitute for meaning. Motivation says, “You can do this.” The gospel says, “You were not meant to do this alone.” Motivation runs on adrenaline; meaning runs on grace. Motivation burns out; meaning endures. One is about pushing harder. The other is about being rooted deeper.
The tragedy of much life coaching is that it baptizes anxiety with positive language. The anxious drive to “be more” becomes a moral virtue. But when you remove transcendence — when “life purpose” has no eternal anchor — even success can feel hollow. You reach the top of the ladder, only to realize it was leaning against the wrong wall.
In short, coaching promises freedom, but often delivers fatigue. It teaches you to chase a better version of yourself rather than to rest in the finished work of Another. The difference is not small — it’s the difference between striving for acceptance and living from acceptance.
Part III: When Motivation Replaces Meaning
The promise of life coaching is that it will unlock your “potential.” It offers strategies, affirmations, and frameworks to help you “live your best life.” But here lies the problem — when the primary goal becomes self-optimization, meaning quietly disappears. Life becomes an endless self-improvement project. You are always “in progress,” but never at peace.
Many modern coaches speak the language of purpose but strip it from its source. You’ll hear phrases like “find your why,” “manifest your destiny,” or “design your life.” Yet the “why” often begins and ends with you — your goals, your desires, your fulfillment. It becomes a mirror with no window beyond the self. The horizon shrinks.
In a biblical worldview, purpose is not something you invent; it’s something you receive. Meaning flows not from self-discovery but from divine calling — “we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works” (Ephesians 2:10). The Christian life begins with surrender, not strategy.
That’s why motivation, though useful, is a poor substitute for meaning. Motivation says, “You can do this.” The gospel says, “You were not meant to do this alone.” Motivation runs on adrenaline; meaning runs on grace. Motivation burns out; meaning endures. One is about pushing harder. The other is about being rooted deeper.
The tragedy of much life coaching is that it baptizes anxiety with positive language. The anxious drive to “be more” becomes a moral virtue. But when you remove transcendence — when “life purpose” has no eternal anchor — even success can feel hollow. You reach the top of the ladder, only to realize it was leaning against the wrong wall.
In short, coaching promises freedom, but often delivers fatigue. It teaches you to chase a better version of yourself rather than to rest in the finished work of Another. The difference is not small — it’s the difference between striving for acceptance and living from acceptance.
Part IV: The Gospel of Grace vs. The Gospel of Growth
At the heart of life coaching lies a gospel — not of grace, but of growth. Its central creed is simple: You can become whoever you want to be, if you’re disciplined enough to do the work. It sounds noble, even biblical on the surface — after all, Scripture does call us to diligence and stewardship. But underneath, this gospel of growth assumes something deeply unbiblical: that salvation, transformation, and fulfillment come through human effort rather than divine grace.
The Gospel of Growth says, “You’re not there yet — but you can get there if you try harder.”
The Gospel of Grace says, “You are accepted now — and therefore, you grow.”
The difference is everything.
In the coaching world, transformation is self-generated; in the Christian life, transformation is Spirit-driven. The coach’s task is to help you unlock what’s already inside you. Christ’s work is to give you what you could never produce on your own — a new heart, a new mind, a new power. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Not a better version of the old, but something entirely new.
The Gospel of Growth is obsessed with metrics — productivity, performance, progress. You are always measuring, optimizing, improving. But grace does not calculate. It frees you from performance altogether. You do not grow to earn God’s approval; you grow because you already have it. Growth becomes the overflow of gratitude, not the condition for belonging.
This is what makes the gospel so scandalous: it removes the transaction. In a world that says, “Earn it, prove it, manifest it,” Christ says, “It is finished.” The life coach promises breakthrough through effort; Jesus offers rest through surrender.
The irony is that the Gospel of Grace produces far deeper growth than the Gospel of Growth ever could — because it changes not just your habits, but your heart. It is not a system of self-help, but a miracle of new life.
In the end, the Gospel of Growth leaves you climbing an endless staircase toward a moving goal. The Gospel of Grace lifts you onto solid ground and says, “Walk with Me.”
Part IV: The Gospel of Grace vs. The Gospel of Growth
At the heart of life coaching lies a gospel — not of grace, but of growth. Its central creed is simple: You can become whoever you want to be, if you’re disciplined enough to do the work. It sounds noble, even biblical on the surface — after all, Scripture does call us to diligence and stewardship. But underneath, this gospel of growth assumes something deeply unbiblical: that salvation, transformation, and fulfillment come through human effort rather than divine grace.
The Gospel of Growth says, “You’re not there yet — but you can get there if you try harder.”
The Gospel of Grace says, “You are accepted now — and therefore, you grow.”
The difference is everything.
In the coaching world, transformation is self-generated; in the Christian life, transformation is Spirit-driven. The coach’s task is to help you unlock what’s already inside you. Christ’s work is to give you what you could never produce on your own — a new heart, a new mind, a new power. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Not a better version of the old, but something entirely new.
The Gospel of Growth is obsessed with metrics — productivity, performance, progress. You are always measuring, optimizing, improving. But grace does not calculate. It frees you from performance altogether. You do not grow to earn God’s approval; you grow because you already have it. Growth becomes the overflow of gratitude, not the condition for belonging.
This is what makes the gospel so scandalous: it removes the transaction. In a world that says, “Earn it, prove it, manifest it,” Christ says, “It is finished.” The life coach promises breakthrough through effort; Jesus offers rest through surrender.
The irony is that the Gospel of Grace produces far deeper growth than the Gospel of Growth ever could — because it changes not just your habits, but your heart. It is not a system of self-help, but a miracle of new life.
In the end, the Gospel of Growth leaves you climbing an endless staircase toward a moving goal. The Gospel of Grace lifts you onto solid ground and says, “Walk with Me.”
Conclusion: From Self-Help to Savior
Life coaching offers motivation — but not meaning. It gives you strategies — but not salvation. It can help you set goals, plan your day, or overcome procrastination. But it cannot tell you who you are, why you exist, or what to do with guilt, grief, and death. For that, we need something deeper than a mindset shift — we need a Savior.
The life coach says, “The answer is within you.”
Jesus says, “The answer is Me.”
That’s the crossroads of modern spirituality. We live in a world that increasingly treats the human soul like a startup — to be optimized, scaled, and branded. The problem is that no amount of self-optimization can heal self-obsession. The more we stare inward, the less peace we find. Our striving becomes circular — always pushing, never arriving.
But grace interrupts the cycle. It reminds us that life is not a project to be managed, but a gift to be received. Christ doesn’t coach us toward heaven — He carries us there. He doesn’t say, “You’ve got this.” He says, “I’ve got you.”
And that changes everything.
Because when your worth no longer depends on your wins, you can finally rest. When your success no longer defines your identity, you can finally serve. When you no longer need to fix yourself, you can finally love others freely.
The gospel does not produce high performers — it produces humble worshipers. It does not build confidence in self — it builds confidence in Christ.
So maybe what we need is not another life coach, but the Lord of life. Not a new technique, but a new heart. Not better habits, but saving grace.
Because the truth is — you don’t need to be coached into becoming your best self.
You need to be redeemed into becoming His.
