The Time Jesus Used the Language of Obligation

They are reclining at the meal when He gets up.

Jesus takes off His outer garment. Ties a towel round His waist. Pours water into a basin. And then the Teacher, the Lord, the One they have followed for three years, kneels on the floor and starts washing the dirt off their feet (John 13:4–5).

Twenty-four feet. Including the two belonging to the man who has already agreed on a price for Him.

Jesus washed His disciples’ feet. Then He told them they should do the same.

Not might. Not could. Not if that feels authentic to you.

If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”

(John 13:14, italics added)

And then, as if to make the point unmistakable, He added:

For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you.”

(John 13:15, italics added)

There it is: ought and should, in the mouth of Jesus.

The word translated “ought” is opheilō, meaning “to owe” or “to be obligated”. It is a debt word. And the “should” of verse 15 is a purpose construction—I did this so that you would do it too. Jesus wasn’t merely offering an inspiring model and leaving His disciples to decide what to make of it. He gave them an example and told them what they ought and should do.

Don’t Should on People

This is why the memorable line, “Don’t should on people”, deserves both a hearty yes and a little caution.

I remember first reading that phrase and immediately agreeing with the sentiment. It’s humorous, memorable—the kind of line that lodges itself in your preaching vocabulary and never quite leaves. And the sentiment behind it is important. Religious language can become a weapon. Should can become a way of loading people with expectations, shame and burdens that God never placed on them.

But there is a danger in taking the warning too far: we can become so suspicious of the word that we become suspicious of the thing it sometimes expresses.

Because Jesus used the language of obligation extensively. And so did Paul.

Alongside the example in John 13:14–15, Jesus uses dei, meaning “it is necessary”, when He says, “You must be born again” (John 3:7). Paul does the same. “But each one must examine his own work” (Galatians 6:4) is a straight command in the Greek. “We should please our neighbour” (Romans 15:2) uses opheilō again—the debt word. Beyond these, the New Testament uses a whole vocabulary of necessity and obligation: anankē (“necessity”), chrē (“it is necessary”), prepei (“it is fitting”) and more besides.

These words are everywhere, and they can capture the resolve of a heart set alight. Jesus’ and Paul’s use of them is, of course, contextualised by the Father’s heart and the Gospel itself. The problem isn’t the language of obligation. The problem is when we forget the context.

A Season Is Not a Strategy

Better to redeem words within the Father’s heart than to discard words that can rightly express the resolve of a believer.

The line about shoulding on people is worth retiring for that reason. First, the irony bites hard when you see it: the line is itself a should! Second, it’s too memorable. People trip over themselves trying to avoid certain words and, in doing so, miss the very point it was trying to make.

I remember doing this myself with the word commitment back in the late 1990s, when it had somehow become the swear word of the moment. And I certainly understand the instinct. Abstaining from a word for a season can genuinely help a person make a necessary shift. Sometimes we need to stop using a word for a while to recognise what we have attached to it.

But a season is not a strategy, and an allergy is not the same thing as discernment.

Redeeming a Word

The problem isn’t obligation. It’s obligation detached from the Father’s heart.

There is a difference between redeeming a word and rejecting it.

Words are tools. Their meaning is shaped by the heart and context in which they are used. Should, ought and must can all be abused. They can manipulate, shame and place burdens on people that God never placed on them. But the abuse of a word doesn’t make the word itself unusable.

Jesus could say, “you must be born again”, without turning the Gospel into legalism.

Paul could say, “we should please our neighbour”, without turning self-giving love into a system of earning the Father’s favour.

The answer, then, isn’t to purge the language of obligation. It is to redeem it within the Father’s heart.

The same should, ought or must can be spoken as a burden or as the resolve of a heart that knows it is loved.

And remember where Jesus said it. Not from a lectern. From the floor, with a towel round His waist and someone else’s dirt on His hands.

The Father’s heart changes the way obligation is heard.