Should, or The Problem with Duty

I didn’t know I had a problem with duty. Okay, that’s not exactly true. I didn’t realize just how big of a problem I had with duty.

I called it rule-following. Or doing the right thing. Others preferred goody two-shoes or perfect. And for all those years, I was sure, no matter how imperfect my attempts or how snarky those other voices were, that God (at least) was pleased. And probably my mom. But mostly, God.

Except, of course, that he wasn’t.

Should is a Four-Letter Word

Did you know that should is the past tense of shall? To be honest, I’d never made the connection before I looked it up the other day. Shall is a verb we use to use to express a future certainty, something mandatory–it will happen.

Of course, we mostly use should in an auxiliary form to express conditions (it shouldn’t be like this) or a sense of duty, obligation, or expectation (you should go home or you shouldn’t drink). And as a culture, we’ve internalized it as a very biblical word. The good-old King James Version liked its shalls and shall nots, didn’t it?

But the longer I’m a Christian. Heck, the longer I’m alive, the less fond I am of this word. It adds an awful lot of heaviness to life and loads, doesn’t it? And while we’re very good at using it on ourselves, it hurts worse when it comes from other people.

Should is not a happy word. It’s a stone that hangs around our necks or gets lobbed at our chest by some well-meaning soul. And over time, all the shalls and shall nots pull us down until we’re slogging though life as if it’s one, long, never-ending chore.

What about Joy?

Should cannot bring joy. It can’t. It’s a duty word. Should is about obligation. It’s about staring down and pushing through. It brings to mind laundry, chores, balancing the checkbook, and exercising.

Not so much joy.

And I’ve been looking for some joy. I think there was a time when I enjoyed life. I vaguely remember being fun, once upon a time. And between my own personality and the realities of life and all the “helpful” contributions of other people, I lost it. And now I’m not sure how to find it again.

But I am absolutely certain that I won’t find it under a pile of shoulds. Joy hides from us, not because we can’t find joy in doing laundry (we can), but because we’ll never find joy in doing laundry only because we should.

And it’s not that we can’t find joy in God (we can), but we’ll never find joy in God when we only approach him from an attitude of should.

God Looks at the Heart

Do you know what duty looks like to me? This:

A lovely, perfect, utterly boring string of white, ironed shirts.

Of course, this is pretty neat. The precision is fantastic. The work involved, immense. There is pleasure in a job well done, yes.

But it’s one long string of the same old thing. Nothing big. Nothing bold or different. It’s all the same.

And let’s be honest. We spend most of our lives trying to craft this string of perfect deeds. Or religious behaviors. Or prayers. And then we hold it up to God, sweaty and grumpy and bored out of our minds, and say, “There! Are you happy?”

Like all God has ever wanted from us is this string of white, ironed shirts. And as long as we can point to the string of white, ironed shirts, he’ll be pleased. And maybe even do good things for us.

Except, I don’t think God was ever looking for the string of white, ironed shirts. Despite all the shalls and shall nots. Despite the fact that we assume God is breathing down our necks, full of expectations and obligations. Even though we’re holding up our duty-inspired offerings and actions and righteousnesses.

He doesn’t need our duty. But he’s always wanted our hearts.

The Problem with Duty is the Heart

God isn’t so impressed with our finished lines of laundry. He isn’t waiting until we’ve done our duty to do good things for us. He really hasn’t laid out long checklists we’re obliged to fulfill.

God doesn’t want our shoulds. He really doesn’t. Because duty is all about the outside. And it doesn’t really have anything at all to do with our hearts.

Yes, he regularly mentions obedience in the Bible. But that obedience is not because he loves watching us live out of duty. Living out of duty isn’t, in fact, obedience at all. It’s only obedience if it comes from our hearts.

Yes, there are things we do because we should. I start exercising. Stop eating chocolate. Stick with my marriage. Put down my phone and talk to my kids. There are lots of things in life that we don’t do because we feel like it, at least not at first. Sometimes we do it because we know we should.

But if should is all we have going for us, it won’t last. If our hearts aren’t in it, we’re done for. We’ll stop exercising. We’ll leave our spouse. We keep on ignoring our kids. We’ll never do the hard work of obedience. We’ll just end up with a life’s worth of ironed white shirts, all in a row.

Everything that’s worth anything has to come from our hearts. Our obedience. Our relationships. Personal wellness. Our goals and dreams. Our good deeds. Worship.

If it doesn’t come from our hearts, it’s just duty. But when it does come from our hearts, God sees it immediately. Because it looks so different from everything else we’re doing. It looks like this:

And then, as we learn to shift away from duty to letting God’s life and his Spirit flow out of us, we stop hanging up white, ironed shirts. Instead, we discover a riot of color and life and joy.

Done with Duty

So I’m done with duty. No more should. Yes, it’s a valuable thing. Yes, sometimes we have to start when we don’t feel like, trusting that our heart will change and the feeling will come. Which it does.

But I’m done throwing around the shoulds and the shall nots. At myself and at other people. There’s a problem with duty: God doesn’t want it. He wants our hearts. And I want a life that looks like the rainbow of jars: useful, varied, joyful, striking.