The Truth About the Finished Self: It Doesn’t Exist

Unless you’re willing to spend years of your life pursuing enlightenment, the finished self doesn’t exist. Not because it’s truly impossible, but because very few are willing to give up the world to free themselves. It’s why the rich young man left Jesus downcast when he asked how to get eternal life in Matthew 19:20. The same is true for the three men Jesus spoke to in Luke 9:57-62, each one confronted with a choice, and each one turning away for something they weren’t willing to surrender. 

Does this mean you never wrestle through the depths of your soul, striving for a better you? 

Absolutely not!

The overarching goal of life demands growth and maturity. 

To understand this, all it takes is to observe nature or watch how a person grows, learns, suffers, and changes from birth until death. 

Your innate desire is to grow and mature. Without this process, you would stagnate and wither away. 

On one hand, pursuing the finished self with reckless devotion is folly. Unless you’re willing to forsake everything, you’ll find yourself trapped between your ordinary life and the endless striving for the perfect one. 

On the other hand, the outright rejection of growth altogether is no wiser. It’s a slow death, one that feels like nothing at all, until you collapse like a dying star, unnoticed, on your deathbed, wondering what became of your life. 

The trick, then, is to learn how to live in both worlds without being consumed by perfectionism or paralyzed by apathy. 

The Mirage of the Finished Self

Living in these two worlds requires walking a tightrope between push and pull, surrendering while grasping. It’s the Yin-Yang of Taoism: not contradiction, but interdependence. 

However, most of your self-inflicted struggles come from pushing too hard in one direction. You miss the balance required for wholeness. So you stumble forward blindly, hoping your hands grasp healing—maybe a little abundance, with a dash of joy on the side—in your short-sighted pursuit of happiness. 

This kind of pushing, without existential counterbalance, will leave you off balance. And yet, that’s the path most people take. Beneath the striving, deeper wounds remain unaddressed. The pain doesn’t go away; it simply hides beneath perfectionism.

This is the byproduct of chasing the finished self—and it’s no wonder most people get trapped in this cycle. Pain is real. Holding onto it is miserable. That’s why most self-led interventions begin with some form of intoxicant, an easy bypass of suffering, that numbs everything, not just the pain. 

Once you wander the wasteland of superficial healing, you begin to search for other means to alleviate the pent-up pressure. You start reading books, listening to podcasts, and practicing yoga. You finally break down and speak with a therapist. All of this work is great, but where does it leave you? Too often, in a new kind of trap: an obsession with self-improvement that disguises avoidance as progress. 

This obsession with self-improvement takes root in personal growth, success culture, and even spirituality. For many, it becomes a fantasy, the moment you’ll finally be healed, whole, and complete. But in truth, it’s just another way of running from pain. Another mask to avoid suffering. 

Why You Chase the Finished Self

Chasing the finished self is an ego-driven illusion, the belief that you’ve arrived, that your identity is fixed, and that your control got you there. But the ego’s drive is fear. Fear that you aren’t enough. That you’ll never arrive. 

It seeks constant approval, first, from others, then from yourself. To feel accomplished and to believe you’ve conquered what once held you back. So, your goal becomes the idealized version of yourself, the polished image you think will finally make you somebody. But the point isn’t to become somebody. 

It’s to become nobody, because only then can you become anybody.

But becoming anybody isn’t the point either. The game is just to be—and not be. To show up fully, without clinging to who’s showing up. You work toward a better you, yet realize that you are already enough. 

There is nowhere to go because you’re already there.

All you have to do is accept it. 

But accepting yourself as you are? That’s the hard part. It’s difficult for the mind and body to forget who you think you are, or the identity you’ve created for yourself. 

Even a glance in the mirror can pull you back into the illusion. One tense encounter, and suddenly you’re spiraling, asking what it takes to be completely free of life’s constant toil. 

Why Freedom Slips Through Your Fingers

In Matthew 19:16-22, a rich young man approaches Jesus and asks what it takes to inherit eternal life. Jesus responds and tells him to keep the commandments, which the young man insists he’s already done. Then in verse 21, “Jesus said to him, 'If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.’ But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.”

Luke 9:57-62 presents a similar moment where three men encounter the cost of following Jesus. In a modern context, it’s difficult to imagine what being called by a master truly meant. But in ancient times, to be called by a master, whether a rabbi, yogi, or monk, was a sacred moment—a sign that the master saw something in you that he intended to draw out. 

In this story, the first man boldly proclaimed he would follow Jesus anywhere. Jesus hadn’t called him, but he responded, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.”

“Then He said to another, ‘Follow Me.’ but he said, ‘Lord, let me first go and bury my father.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God.’”

In verse 61, “And another also said, 'Lord, I will follow You, but let me first go and bid them farewell who are at my house.’ But Jesus said to him, ‘No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.’” 

The Cost of Perfection

In each of these stories, Jesus offers an invitation to those who are willing to follow him. Each man wants to follow him. But to do so, he must release what he holds most dear; for the first, it’s money. The second, comfort. The third, duty. And the fourth, relationships. 

The cost here is relinquishing everything. It’s giving up your way of life, your family, your responsibility, and surrendering yourself to the raw, existential path of oneness. A small few embrace this calling. Most shudder at the thought of it. 

But this cost, demanding as it is, isn’t the only cost. 

The cost of not spending your day in contemplation, silence, and solitude is just as heavy. 

Without anchoring yourself in a path that leads to freedom, you’re left wrestling with a quiet form of self-rejection. Not always hatred. Not always shame, but the slow erosion of inner peace. A gnawing feeling that no matter what you do, it will never be enough. 

Over time, a subtle kind of burnout creeps in —the exhaustion of chasing a moving target, one that our culture worships under the name self-actualization. It’s like being caught between heaven and hell. You can see both. Sense both. But hell’s burning the soles of your feet, and heaven is just out of reach. 

The goal, then, is not completion. It’s integration.

A Better Path: Integration, Not Completion

At the heart of every version of the finished self lies a single truth: presence. The most ancient teaching. The most forgotten practice. It echoes through every sacred text and whispered revelation. The gentle call of eternity—be present. True arrival doesn’t come through perfecting your body and mind; it comes through being present. 

Remember: There’s nowhere to go. You are already there.

I was talking with a friend about what it means to lose yourself in the simple moments. Like becoming so engrossed in washing a dish that time seems to stand still. And in that moment, all that exists are you, the dish, the rag, the water, and the bubbling suds chasing rainbows across their surface. If you can become truly involved, eternity will pass within seconds. You can have lived a thousand lives in that one moment. 

You begin to see that much of your pain and suffering, your emotional and mental turmoil, are merely illusions. Illusions crafted by your mind as regrets pull you into the past, and worries push you into the future. 

But as you learn to practice presence, to let go again and again, you realize there’s nothing to finish. Instead, it’s learning to embrace the wholeness already within you. 

(For more on how shifting your view of suffering can unlock freedom, read Change Your Perspective on Suffering, Change Your Life.)

You do this by becoming mindful of every thought, word, and deed—without judgment—by letting go of timelines and celebrating who you are. 

When you learn to fall in love with yourself, not in vain conceit, but in integration and acceptance, that’s when life truly begins.

Thank you for reading.

Josiah

For more resources and information, visit josiahthibodeau.com