“Mackenzie had a fun morning,” I said as I handed the tired toddler to her mom after church.
The thanks I received from Mom did little to calm the wave of bitterness rising in me as the other church nursery volunteer and I began wiping tables and putting away toys. I tried giving myself the same combination sermon and pep talk I did every week. I reminded myself what a gift a well-staffed nursery could be to young parents, just as it had been for our family, and how good it was to plant a few seeds of faith through songs, stories, and play in the lives of the children while “big people” church services were taking place in the sanctuary.
Illustration by Jeff Gregory
That pep talk kept my head and heart in line for three years—countless Sundays of pouring apple juice and doling out goldfish-shaped crackers during snack time. But for the past couple of years, I had felt my resentment growing. I’d rarely attended a Sunday worship service because there were never enough workers to staff the nursery, a fact that no one seemed to notice. One word compelled me to keep serving even though I was burned out, and it was a harsh taskmaster: Should.
Yes, sacrificial service is an essential component of a disciple’s life and growth. And it’s true certain practical tasks require doing to keep a church functioning. For those reasons, “should” may be a well-aimed nudge that moves us from inertia to action. But it can also transform service into a kind of joyless drudgery.
Personally, I was feeling used and used up. I wasn’t continuing to work in the nursery because I’d been guilted or manipulated into it. (Though I have known others who’ve had that experience.) I didn’t have language for it at the time, but I felt as if serving was a sign of my commitment to Jesus. Though no one had ever said it to me directly, I’d absorbed the idea from countless sermon illustrations and missionary biographies that selfless, uncomplaining, superhuman service glorified God. If I wanted to please Him (and I did), that meant assigning myself nursery duty.
The “shoulds” shaping the discipleship journey are tricky ones. There are necessary moral “shoulds” that aren’t always pleasurable or comfortable. For instance, saying no to sin isn’t always pleasurable in the moment. It can be painful to tell the truth when a lie would be more convenient. It can be difficult not to make an impulse purchase when you’re tempted to overspend. It can be socially or vocationally costly to speak up for the marginalized in your community when it is far easier to remain silent.
But the word should doesn’t always speak to Scripture’s clearly defined moral imperatives. The word can also remind us of everyday responsibilities (I should take the trash cans to the curb because today is garbage day.) It can help us think through our options as we discern the best choice (Should we hit the drive-through for a greasy burger or head home to eat a salad?) It can express hope (We should invite the new couple in the neighborhood over and get to know them better.)
The apostle James spoke to the kinds of personal, situational “shoulds” we encounter in everyday life when he wrote, “Therefore, to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin” (James 4:17 NKJV). His words challenge us to reach beyond our own preferences and intentionally seek to care well for those around us.
Many “shoulds” in our life are specific to our unique circumstances. James might suggest that talking yourself out of checking in on an annoying elderly neighbor because you’re too busy and you know from previous experience that he’ll talk your ear off isn’t your best choice. The duty to do good embedded in these kinds of “shoulds” are the building blocks of God-honoring relationship-building.
We run into issues with “shoulds” when they’re rooted in false guilt and religious performance. That kind of obligation encourages inauthenticity. When I alone had evidence that a coworker had cheated on a big project, played office politics, and won a promotion as a result, I forced myself to act happy for him primarily because I wanted our other colleagues to see me as a gracious person (and by extension, a good Christian).
To be honest, if I hadn’t been driven by a “should” rooted in religious performance, my responses may not have looked very different. However, God knew my motivations weren’t coming from a life-giving place. Now I realize I’d unconsciously adopted the mindset that, as the only believer on staff, I was responsible for being God’s public relations agent in my workplace. That sparked a lot of my performance-based ways of interacting with coworkers. I was fueled by false guilt of “shoulds” that God had never asked me to adopt.
Sifting false guilt from the kinds of “shoulds” that arise from true moral failure can be done only in the company of the Holy Spirit: “And by this we know that we are of the truth, and shall assure our hearts before Him. For if our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and knows all things” (1 John 3:19-20 NKJV). It was my growing burnout that convicted me about my unhealthy, unhelpful beliefs about God, myself, and the nature of service that kept me there far too long. I’d turned the call to service into a self-imposed and joyless mandate. No one, least of all God, was asking me to serve in the nursery for as long as I had.
And so I took a very long break from the juice boxes and crackers, the songs and coloring pages. I rested. I worshipped with the grown-ups on Sundays. I discovered that there was freedom in understanding what fueled my responses to the “shoulds” in my life. Eventually, I found other ways to contribute. And now, when I make myself available to lend a hand in the nursery as an occasional sub, I show up simply because I want to.
