Two phrases often hover over our relationships: 'You should' and 'I should'. One demands things from others, turning love into debt collection; the other binds us inwardly, turning sacrifice into a secret ledger of what others owe us and leaving us full of bitterness. The fault lies in legalism, rather than in God's law. Through the prodigal son's elder brother, this article examines how 'should' controls both ourselves and others, and how the gospel replaces 'You should' with 'I give willingly', so that love can once again flow freely.
Legalism Hidden in Our Closest Relationships
Two phrases often hover over our closest relationships: “You should…” and “I should…”
One reaches outwards to make demands of others; the other turns inwards to bind ourselves. Both sound reasonable, like responsibility or love. Yet a closer look reveals the same underlying system: legalism. It quietly changes the basis of a relationship from receiving freely and giving willingly to meeting standards, owing debts and settling accounts. Let us look at how these two phrases gradually drain love away.
“Husbands should be more considerate.” “Wives should submit.” “Children should obey.” “Parents should understand me.” Taken individually, these statements may be right; we may even find biblical grounds for them. But once “You should” becomes something we hurl at another person, the relationship slides from grace into debt collection.
The deepest damage caused by “You should” lies in its assumption that the other person automatically owes me this. Since it is a debt, I need neither invite nor thank them. All that remains is watching whether they deliver, then judging them and feeling disappointed when they fail. Under that gaze, the other person experiences judgment, rather than love. This is also the point of the previous article, “Strangling Motivation”: the harder you press with “should”, the more you choke out the willingness within the other person.
“You should” wounds others; “I should” wounds ourselves, often in less visible ways.
A wife tells herself, “I should be a good wife and mother,” and exhausts her energy and years for her husband and children. Outwardly, this appears to be devotion and sacrifice. Yet inwardly, a secret account often opens: “I have given so much. You owe me.” Sacrifice becomes capital and bargaining power for making demands, instead of grace. The trouble is that this repayment can never be collected in full. What others give is always insufficient, or they may never realise that they owe you anything. As time passes, bitterness takes root, just as Scripture warns: “lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you” (Hebrews 12:15). This system of “I should” binds the person herself, leaving her exhausted and without rest, while also controlling others by making the whole household live under an unspoken sense of debt. In the end, no one is happy.
One person in Scripture is almost a portrait of this condition: the prodigal son's elder brother.
When his younger brother returned home and their father held a feast, he stood outside in anger and told his father: “Behold, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed a commandment of yours, but you never gave me a goat, that I might celebrate with my friends” (Luke 15:29). Listen to his tone: so much credit claimed, so many accounts kept, so much grievance. He had never left home and had always remained physically near his father. Yet his heart was still that of a hired servant calculating his wages, rather than a son. He kept every rule but had no joy, and could not bear his brother's welcome by grace. This is where legalism leads: outwardly correct behaviour, inward bitterness, and exclusion even from the feast of love.
One thing needs to be clear: the problem does not lie with the law, which is “holy”, with its commandment “holy, righteous, and good” (Romans 7:12). The problem is legalism, which turns the law into a system for earning worth and acceptance.
“Should” binds us so tightly because we secretly hope that doing enough will obtain love, security and a secure place in our relationships. “You should” demands that the other person repay us through performance; “I should” tries to earn points through sacrifice. Yet these are precisely the gifts the gospel has already given us freely. What we are labouring to earn, God has already given in Christ. To explore how security, worth and belonging are rebuilt in Christ, read “Security, Worth and Belonging: How the Gospel Meets Our Three Deepest Needs”.
This also explains why “should” is often linked with irritability. Many people who are quick to anger carry a densely written list of expectations: husbands should do this, wives should do that, children should obey, ministry colleagues should be reliable, colleagues and neighbours should help one another, friends should stand by each other at all costs, residents should show basic consideration, teachers should treat every pupil fairly, students should take their studies seriously… When reality fails to follow the list, anger quickly rises. Anger at others says, “You have failed to meet the standard I believe you should meet.” Anger at ourselves says, “I have failed to meet my own standard too.” Over time, we become prone both to outbursts and to discouragement, dejection and loss of heart. For more on the anxiety, hurt, helplessness and cycle of self-condemnation beneath anger, read “Beneath the Anger: When Irritability Becomes a Cycle You Cannot Escape”.
The gospel breaks open this secret ledger.
When someone truly tastes what it means to be accepted because of Christ, rather than because they have given enough, they no longer need to accumulate bargaining power through giving. Willingness cannot be forced. It grows within us as a response to grace first received: “We love him, because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). So when Paul urges people to give, he tells them to avoid compulsion, “for God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:7). When urging Philemon to do good, he wants his goodness to be “not… as of necessity, but of free will” (Philemon 14). Christ has set us free to live in freedom (Galatians 5:1); his yoke is easy and his burden light (Matthew 11:28–30). Legalism works in the opposite direction: the longer we carry it, the heavier it becomes.
In everyday life, we often start from pressure rather than quietness: other people's expectations push us along, social responsibilities hurry us, and work, family, church, bills and countless pressures keep driving us forward. Eventually, it seems impossible to stop, as though stopping would leave us owing someone, falling behind someone or letting someone down. “I should” ceases to be a passing thought and becomes a whip driving us on.
The journey from “should” to willingness therefore often requires a period of real rest first. We return to Christ so that he can lift the burden of constantly being pursued, assessed and called to account, while continuing to face our responsibilities. We remember again that we are already loved, accepted and sent in Christ, rather than being loved because of our performance. We also remember that the true provider for our lives is our heavenly Father, who has been quietly sustaining and protecting us all along. Within this rest, strength is renewed.
To practise resting in Christ more concretely, continue with “A Guide to Meditative Prayer”, and learn how prayer can gradually move from a one-way monologue into walking with God.
This new strength comes from the Holy Spirit moving within us, rather than being squeezed out by external pressure or forced by social responsibility. We still carry responsibilities, but the inner voice begins to change. Beyond “I should”, we begin to say, as free people in Christ, “I am willing.” This is a choice made for Christ's sake, regardless of whether others repay us.
Ultimately, this path replaces “You should” with “I give willingly”, and “You owe me” with “I have already received love enough.” Both involve giving, but one keeps accounts while the other overflows; one chokes and the other releases. “Love therefore is the fulfillment of the law” (Romans 13:10). Love lives the standard from within, willingly, rather than throwing it away.
This leaves room for reminders, responsibility and boundaries in relationships. The gospel preserves the distinction between good and evil, while moving the place from which we speak: we step down from the judgment seat to stand among those held by grace. We can then turn “You should” into an invitation, and bring “I should” before God for examination.
The next time “You should” is about to escape your lips, try another way of speaking:
Our closest relationships are often most exhausting when every act of giving enters a secret ledger, even though much is being given. The gospel closes that ledger. I no longer need to prove that I deserve love through sacrifice, or prove another person's love by making demands. In Christ, I have already been loved first.
May we say “I am willing” more often to our families, and “You owe me” less often; may we offer more invitations and less judgment. Love that continues flowing over time is released by grace, rather than forced into being by “should”.