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Author’s note: This is another one of those posts (like most of mine?) that I write from the thick of it. As in, not from mastery. As in, I was dealing with this last night. Turns out I not only get the “shoulds” with myself; I get them with other people. As in my kids. 

My husband has probably said it more than ten times: “When you’re tired, you get the shoulds.”

I should call her. I need to write that note. I think we need to make a plan for disciplining [insert child]. I should be more diligent about…

You get the idea. It’s funny in a way–not funny-ha-ha, more funny-sad–that I’m actually harder on myself when I’m exhausted; when I need grace most.

I’m starting to see a pattern. My level of spiritual maturity is sometimes inversely connected to how much I get the shoulds.

See, should is connected to allllllll the good things I think I ought to be doing. (There are a lot.) It’s a word of obligation and self-discipline. And sure, there’s a place for obligation. We’d call it obedience. There’s a place for discipline. (I’ve written a whole series on spiritual disciplines for real families. Discipline is good stuff.) It’s our choice to do what we know is good in the long run; the equivalent of grabbing a celery stick from the fridge rather than the bag of chips on top. Yum, yum. Cellllllllery.

I Had To.

But so often, the obligation is disconnected from the love for doing it; the joy. It’s not a result of our love for God and/or what’s right as much as what we think will make us a more acceptable person. John Piper uses the classic illustration of a man buying his wife flowers. When she exclaims, “You shouldn’t have!” He has a couple of response options:

a. I had to. It’s what a good husband does. (My paraphrase.)

b. I couldn’t help myself.

Personally, I would highly prefer husband B, warm and fuzzy as A sounds. It’s “I have to/You make me” vs. “I choose this.” And the further I plunge into this pool of God’s acceptance, I’m becoming more skeptical of things that whiff of making myself more acceptable. That’s different than happy obedience, see. It’s more in the self-righteousness, shape-up-or-ship-out category. Honestly, it’s more in the plan-of-self-salvation category.

When I hear should, sometimes I wonder what’s behind it. Is this my adult choice, or my stalwart duty, lacing up my sinfulness so it doesn’t fall out on someone? Is this the person I choose to be because that long-term goal is worth it (e.g. I need to keep my eyes on my own spouse. I would love my child to know I care about that, so I’m going to go ahead and sign up. I want to call that friend, to let her know I’m thinking about her in this tough time)? Or is the person I’m goaded to be, because I fear the implications?

True or False?

David Benner, in The Gift of Being Yourself: The Sacred Call to Self-Discovery, delineates between the False Self and the True Self. According to Benner, for the False Self, “security and significance [are] achieved by what we have, what we can do, and what others think of us.” It is “maintained by effort and control.”

He elaborates,

Every time I dare to meet God in the vulnerability of my sin and shame, this knowing [and trusting of God’s love] is strengthened. Every time I fall back into a self-improvement mode and try to bring God my best self, it is weakened.*

But the True Self’s “security and significance [are] achieved by being deeply loved by God“–and is maintained by God’s undeserved kindness (aka a generous grace. See what I did there?)

Shoulds vs. God

A friend told me lately of her counselor’s advice to keep track of every time she used the word should and why she used it. When possible, she should try to replace her should with more accurate terms: I don’t have to make dinner, but I’m going to. I want to write her a note. It’s not vital that I help out with that event, but I’m considering it.

A pillar sets Christianity apart from all other religions: Because of Jesus, we’re accepted. Long before we were even thinking of doing good, God loved us enough to give his own life for us. He made us, made me, acceptable.

So sometimes my shoulds get in the way of who I really am: Accepted. Loved. Delighted in (even when I don’t call that person back, or serve on that committee. Even when morally, I fall short).

Shoulds even get in the way of my relationships, though. If a person hears me talk about how I should do xyz–in the “I wish I were better” sense–I’m communicating, this is the kind of person that’s more acceptable. I hear it most in how I talk to my kids; but perhaps that’s another post for another time.

Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you.

 

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*p. 49