The Idols of Ought

“Do you realize that you are ruining your life?” With that question, what I suddenly did realize was that this was an Intervention. Some well-meaning friends had sat me down to “bring me to my senses” and help me see the “error of my ways.” It did not go as planned.

“You have no job, no income; you’ve spent all your savings. How long will this last? How are you going to be able to support yourself? Who is going to take care of you? When you are older, and you are too old or too sick to work—who will be there to take care of you? You have no husband, no children…you are going to end up on the streets. Or worse, dependent on the government…”

I was not on drugs; nor was I dabbling in anything illegal or immoral. Rather my “ruinous decision” was the one I had made a few years earlier: to move home and take care of my mother full-time. It was initially a short-term decision—my mother had been struck suddenly with a “mystery illness” in September of 2016 and I was needed to advocate for her over the many weeks in the hospital and then rehab, and also to take care of my father who was still living at the time. But developments soon showed that my care was needed more long-term. Even after my father passed away in February of 2017, my mother, who had not been expected to recover at all, survived but needed more extended live-in care. And so my initially short-term departure from city life, my social life, and the security of an income was likewise extended indefinitely.

“You are ruining your life!” But God knew that this was exactly what I need to hear in that moment. He made me, and He had also made my stubborn streak. He knew that these words would raise up in me a contrary conviction. “You are wrong!” was my calm (all-things considering) comeback. And as I began to awkwardly articulate why they were wrong, a quiet conviction and peace settled in my soul.

The irony was that only a few days earlier I had myself been entertaining some of those same worries. I had in fact wondered, “Did I make the right decision?” I did sometimes feel trapped. I did worry about my future; wonder what would become of me. I did wish at times that I had a husband or someone else to help me. “I am not sure I can do this God. Is this really what you want for me?”

But in that moment with my friends, as my own arguments and anxieties were echoed back to me in other voices, the clarity came: “I am exactly where I am supposed to be.”

I often recall the words of my spiritual director, spoken years before this intervention, but even more fitting now, eight years after my decision to move home: “You need to let go of the idea of what you think your life ought to look like.”

These “ideas,” which often slip in subtly, I’ve come to call the “Idols of Ought.”  They often employ moral language—“should” and “ought” often sound holy—but these Idols of Ought taunt and tempt me to bow down before something other than God.

Sometimes they accuse, and invite me to bend in discouragement: “You are half-way to antique. Surely by this point in your life you ought to be more healed, more holy, more accomplished…what’s wrong with you; what’s taking you so long?”

Or they’ll nudge me towards comparison with others: “She’s younger than you—she has eight children and has written nine books and is ten times busier and more successful (and obviously more holy) than you are—surely you ought to have something more to show for your life…”

Often they echo the big “If” of the Enemy in the desert. “If you are really a child of God…”

“If God really loved you, He would (or would have) ….” “If you really loved God, you would (or would have) …”

These idols often highlight the “haves” of others and the lacks in my own life: “Surely you ought to be in a “real vocation” by now? Or you ought at least to have a “real job?” Or at least to have discovered some sort of talent. You’ve seen Tik-Tok—if tweens can be influencers, surely you should have some sort of noticeable impact…”

Sometimes these idols poke at past failures; sometimes at future fears. What I ought to have done, or not to have done; what I ought to be doing to prepare for the future. Sometimes they’ll try to tell me how to feel, “You ought to care more about this…” “You ought not to still be thinking about that…” “Why don’t you feel enough; why do you feel too much? You ought…”

Sometimes these idols tempt me, suggesting things I ought to do that sound good and holy but which delay or distract me from what God is in fact asking of me. To quote Claire Dwyer, “If the devil can’t destroy you, he will try to dilute you.”

Sometimes these idols offer an invitation to ego. Years before, when I was making a move in a different sort of direction—leaving ministry work for a stable job—another friend sat me down, also looking to intervene. “You can’t give this up! We need you! You are the only one who can do this…” Thankfully my stubborn soul saved me that time too. As he spoke, I only received a confirmation of the rightness of my discernment. His words, while flattering, pointed to a wrong “savior.” I was not called to be one. Rather, I was to take direction from my only True Savior.

One good thing about these Idols of Ought: as soon as we’ve identified them as idols, we’ve identified the solution. We turn our back on the idols, and turn our eyes, hearts and minds to the One True God. Ask Jesus, “Who do YOU say that I am? What do YOU want me to do right now? What do You think of this, of that, or of the other?”

This is the power of prayer time. The power to let God gently give and take away from our expectations, from our To Do List, from our anxieties about the future or the past.

The Narrow Way that the Father invites us to follow is Jesus. Our path is not a map that we can visit on Instagram or compare on Pinterest, because it is deeply personal. Jesus, who knows all and knows us, speaks specifically to each individual: “‘This is the way; walk in it,’ when you would turn to the right or the left.” (Isaiah 30:21)

Sometimes the “Oughts” are not entirely wrong (they entice by half-truths): in truth, I ought to be more holy, more disciplined. I ought to eat less and move more. I ought to spend more time cleaning and less on my Kindle. And goodness knows, there is a laundry list of other weaknesses I ought to work on, and virtues I ought to grow in.

These too I bring to Jesus. I ask Him to speak into them—is there a deeper need or issue underlying them? Is there a grace He wants to give me, that He is waiting for me to ask for? Is there something to repent of?

A key difference between Jesus and the Idols of Ought is how they speak to us about our sins. Idols speak condemnation; Jesus extends an invitation: “Come to me. Repent. Sin no more. I am with you always… My grace is sufficient for you…”

Another great help is the saints. There are saints for every season and situation. Saints who were big sinners. Saints who experienced great failures or great disappointments (or what seemed to be at the time). Saints who were rejected by spouses, or denied entry to religious life; saints who were kicked out of the very orders they founded. Saints who couldn’t complete their missions or planned tasks because of illness, or opportunity or opposition—sometimes from family, friends or even the church herself.

Each of these became a saint not because of what was or was not on their resume, but because of the One they ultimately allowed to write it. To Him alone, every knee shall bow.

 

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This post was originally published on SpiritualDirection.com. Featured Image from Canva.