The Chore Chart

My earliest memories include standing on a stool at the kitchen sink helping my mom wash dishes. The warm water, the bubbles, and the special time with Mom were pure joy and one of my favorite things to do. Then one day, Mom hung a chart on the refrigerator. It was a chore chart showing which day of the week each family member was responsible for doing the dishes. From that point on, doing the dishes became an annoying assignment.

As I grew up, I remember wanting to be a good boy. I wanted to embody all the qualities of the Sunday School songs we sang at church. I wanted to earn all the scouting badges. I wanted to be happy and to help other people be happy. And then, people began to tell me that being all those good things was more than something to aspire to - they were requirements. If I failed, I’d be considered bad, unworthy—and I might even end up in jail or, worse, hell. My desire to be a good boy was put on a chore chart. Gradually, my desire to be good was transformed into just another annoying assignment.

As annoying as it was, I continued trying to be good through the next several decades. The results were mixed. I pushed myself to meet expectations but was often dragged down by my flaws. I wore the mask of a good person while concealing the weight of some sizable failures.

I was in my 40s before things really started to change. I remember watching the dystopian movie Divergent back in 2014. In the movie, everyone at age 16 is forced to choose one of five factions. Each faction is based on a single virtue like bravery or selflessness. Once a youth chooses a faction, they are committed for life and undergo rigorous training and testing on the faction’s virtue. As you'd expect from a dystopian movie, a resistance forms, and in a pivotal moment, a young rebel declares:

"I don't want to be just one thing! I want to be brave and selfless and intelligent and honest and kind!"

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. As I watched that scene, something deep inside me resonated with a fierce "Me too!"

I believe my inner child surfaced in that movie theater—the one who had been buried under all the chore charts, all the "shoulds" and "should nots," and all the dire consequences of failure. That night, he surfaced with his little heart still wanting all the good things. I felt like shouting to the world:

"Forget your charts, your rules, your expectations, and your consequences! You ruined it and stole all the joy. Well, I'm not doing this for you anymore. I'm going after all the good things because I want it!"

When I was freed to pursue goodness because I wanted to—rather than because I was expected to—I rediscovered the joy I felt as a child, standing next to my mom at the kitchen sink. And in the pursuit of goodness, joy can make all the difference.

By Ty, Writing Team