Part 3 of 4 in the “Counseling Crossroads” Series
Who Gets to Define “Care”?
What does it mean to care well for someone who is suffering? Behind that seemingly simple question lies a larger set of theological assumptions about the nature of the soul, the role of Scripture, the power of the gospel, and the authority in the Church.
In our cultural moment, the term “care” is often employed in emotionally resonant ways but with ambiguous theological content. Safety, empathy, and validation are frequently used as the benchmarks for care. The question is: “Are these categories biblically grounded, or are they imported from secular models?”
For example, the Redemptive Counseling and CIBC frameworks have reframed care around trauma safety, psychoeducation, and self-regulation. Granted, these are important concepts in their proper context.
Yet these models often treat Scripture as a theological framework for values while outsourcing methodology to the clinical world. The result is care that may soothe, but does not shepherd; that may affirm, but does not transform.
To be clear, we are not against comfort. But biblical care never ends with comfort. It calls to repentance (Luke 13:3), nurtures endurance (James 1:2–4), and holds out hope (Romans 15:13)—not just for psychological relief, but for spiritual renewal. It brings people face-to-face with the living God (Psalm 34:18; Hebrews 4:12).
In many models today, symptom relief is increasingly presented as a goal in and of itself, as though the absence of distress signals the presence of healing.
But this pragmatic lens shifts the purpose of counseling and soul-care from sanctification to stabilization. It teaches us to measure success by emotional quiet rather than spiritual fruit (Galatians 5:22-23). While temporary relief may be a mercy, it is not a measure of reconciliation to God or maturity. God is after so much more.
Consider two contrasting examples:
Example 1: A woman who experienced childhood sexual abuse is counseled using trauma-focused methods. She is told her sense of self was shattered, her triggers are neurological, and her healing depends on nervous system regulation and establishing safe boundaries. Scripture is quoted mostly to affirm her worth or frame forgiveness as a future ideal. She leaves comforted, but no clearer on how the gospel intersects with her past or present walk of faith.
Example 2: Another woman with the same background is heard with compassion and acknowledged in her grief. However, her counselor also helps her name both the evil done to her and the God who draws near to the crushed in spirit. She is shown how Jesus bore both sin and shame (Hebrews 12:2), how lament is a path to communion (Psalm 13), and how sanctification includes learning to trust again—even when the world feels unsafe. She is not reduced to her past nor her neurology. She is reoriented to Christ.
That’s the difference: one model offers tools for stabilization. The other offers transformation.
Biblical soul-care views the counselee not merely as a victim to be soothed, but as an image-bearer to be shepherded, restored, and sanctified. It seeks not just regulation of the emotions but reformation of the heart (Ephesians 4:22-24).
To that end, we must not confuse compassionate tone with biblical care, or trauma-sensitivity with Scripture-sufficiency. When therapeutic models define care, the gospel gets reduced to psychological outcomes. But when Scripture defines care, suffering becomes a doorway to sanctification, not just stabilization.
This is the crossroads we are facing. What defines “care” in your counseling? Who defines it for you? And what fruit does it yield?
Coming in Part 4: How Did We Get Here? A Brief History of Biblical Counseling’s Drift and Divergence
Words Matter: Refining the Conversation 