John Piper is founder and teacher of desiringGod.org and chancellor of Bethlehem College & Seminary. For 33 years, he served as pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church, Minneapolis, Minnesota. He is author of more than 50 books, including Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist and most recently Providence.

We Christian Hedonists have a complicated relationship with duty. On the one hand, with our emphasis on the centrality of affections and desire in glorifying God, we are at war with duty-driven approaches to the Christian life that regard the affections as optional add-ons. To do a righteous act purely from a sense of obligation — because it is the right thing to do — is not morally superior to performing the same act with a deep sense of desire and gladness. Desire does not ruin the moral worth of good actions. Indeed, the right kind of desire establishes the true moral worth of our actions.

On the other hand, we Christian Hedonists, far from setting duty and desire at odds, instead bring them together by insisting that we are obligated to delight in God. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice” (Philippians 4:4). We are called and commanded to desire God, to treasure God, to want God, to find our highest joy in God.

So again, we have a complicated relationship with duty. And as such, it’s worth taking a few moments to consider this relationship more carefully. The question is this: Is there a good, wise, and Christian Hedonistic way of celebrating the value of duty in the Christian life?

What Is Duty Anyway?

To answer this question, let’s first untangle a potential ambiguity. What do we mean by duty? On the one hand, duty might simply be a synonym for obligation. Anytime we use the word ought, we are dealing with duty. In this sense, duty and delight, far from being at odds, coincide. We ought to delight in God. We ought to love him with all of our heart. Included in all of our obligations is the duty to find our highest satisfaction in God. Thus, if we equate duty and obligation, then Christian Hedonists clearly value duty. That’s why we talk about “the dangerous duty of delight.”

“Duty refers to fulfilling one’s obligations in the face of obstacles.”

But duty often has a more particular and narrower meaning. Often, duty refers not merely to obligations, but to obligations that we find difficult to fulfill for one reason or another. In this sense, duty refers to fulfilling one’s obligations in the face of obstacles. When obligation meets impediments, then we talk about duty. Put another way, duty (in this narrower sense) is when the want to and the ought to don’t match.

That’s why duty has so often been praised as a virtue. To do the right thing in the face of the various obstacles that hinder us, to persevere in willing the good even when it’s hard, even when we lack the spontaneous delight that would make doing the right thing enjoyable — these have led many to praise duty as not merely virtuous, but as the pinnacle of virtue. The moral effort involved in overcoming impediments seems to give duty a beauty and luster and value that unimpeded, spontaneous goodness seems to lack.

What do we, as Christian Hedonists, make of this seeming superiority of arduous moral effort that overcomes all obstacles to doing good?

Impediments of Various Kinds

First, let’s understand what we mean by impediments. It seems to me that impediments might be either natural or moral, and either internal or external. Natural, external impediments are the high mountains and long distances we endure to fulfill our obligations. The time it takes, the monotonous repetition of our obligations, the heavy loads we must carry, and the inconveniences we undergo — all of these lie outside of us and are simply features of living in a finite (and fallen) world.

Natural, internal impediments are those bound up with our finitude and embodiment. Any impediment flowing from bodily weakness and natural aversion to pain and suffering would be included here. Sometimes duties are heavy, not because the obligation is so heavy, but because we are so weak. To do the right thing when we are tired or hungry or sick, or when the consequences of doing the right thing will be pain, discomfort, and even the possibility of death — this is what it means to do our duty in the face of natural, internal impediments.

Moral, external impediments include the evil that we must overcome in others. Loving my neighbor who is kind and pleasant is easy. Loving my neighbor who is quarrelsome, bitter, envious, and ungrateful is harder. Their ingratitude and bitterness are impediments that I overcome to fulfill my obligation. The same is true of the mockery, scorn, and rejection by others that sometimes occur when we do the right thing and maintain our integrity. So also with the obstacles posed by dark spiritual powers, which seek to undermine our obedience (though frequently the obstacles they erect take the form of the other kinds of impediments).

“Even the simplest of obligations can feel impossible in the face of our own pride, anger, sloth, and fear.”

Finally, we have the moral impediments that lie within us. Our besetting sins and disruptive passions — these are the impediments that we most frequently have to overcome. Even the simplest of obligations can feel impossible in the face of our own pride, anger, sloth, and fear. Or we might consider how our desires for other good things turn our obligation to love others into arduous exertions. The love of money (and all the desires it could fulfill) kept the rich young ruler from doing the one thing Christ called him to do. That inordinate love was his greatest impediment, and he went away sad (Mark 10:22).

In our daily lives, these impediments are almost always mingled. Making a time-consuming meal for a bitter neighbor when you are tired after a full day’s work brings three of the impediments together in one major obstacle (and no doubt presses on our own abiding sinfulness, thus bringing all types of impediments together). So we must not artificially divide the kinds of obstacles that we face.

What, then, do Christian Hedonists say about duty in the narrow sense in the face of these kinds of impediments?

1. Duty exists to be transcended.

The narrow sense of duty is owing to the various natural and moral impediments that we face, and these are owing to our pilgrim condition in a fallen world. Someday, most of these impediments — at least the moral ones and the natural, internal ones — will pass away. It seems possible to me that natural, external impediments may still have a place even in the new heavens and new earth; heaven may have its ardors and exertions, its severities and steep ascents. However, in our glorified condition, our natural limitations will not in any way hinder our joy in doing good; indeed, they will increase our joy.

When that day comes, goodness will flow from us spontaneously, like songs from a lark and water from a fountain. Unhindered delight in doing what we ought will be the crowning bloom on our moral actions.

2. Humans have levels of will.

In the meantime, in our pilgrim condition, we embrace the worth and value of overcoming impediments in our efforts to do good. That worth and value will be embraced rightly if we recognize the different levels of “willing” that we are capable of as humans.

We see these two levels in Christ’s prayer in Gethsemane: “Not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42). “Not my will” — this means that, at some level, the race set before Jesus was an unpleasant one, filled with various impediments: a long distance up Calvary’s road, a heavy cross upon his back, the natural weaknesses of a beaten body, the hatred, scorn, and mockery of wicked men, his abandonment by his friends, and the surety of an excruciating death. Jesus beheld all of these impediments to his calling to love his people and, at one level, said, “I don’t want to.”

But only at one level. At another, deeper level, his human will embraced the divine will. “Yours be done.” Despite all of the impediments in his way, Christ still fundamentally desired to do the will of his Father. And thus he did what he ought in the face of the external and internal obstacles in his way.

What can we say about this deeper willing and desiring that Christ displayed? First, it was animated by joy: “For the joy that was set before him [he] endured the cross” (Hebrews 12:2). Second, his experience of joy while enduring the cross differed markedly from his experience after his ascent to God’s right hand. The sufferings were neither pleasant nor enjoyable; they were horrific and painful. Nevertheless, we all know that there is a kind of satisfaction in doing one’s duty in the face of obstacles and in the midst of great pain, by looking forward to the reward (Hebrews 11:6, 26).

3. Even duties can become joys.

The two levels of our willing enable us to speak truly about the value of the narrow sense of duty. At one level, the want to and ought to don’t match; thus, we can talk about duty. But at another, deeper (or higher) level, they do match, because we actually persevere in doing the good, despite the lack of want to at the first level. Our desire or commitment to doing what’s right overcomes all external hindrances and internal reluctances.

This desire is what enables us to “count it all joy . . . when [we] meet trials of various kinds” (James 1:2). The fact that we have to “count it” joy highlights the gap that we are exploring. We don’t have to count pleasant experiences as joy; they just are joy because we enjoy them at both levels. It is the trials, the unpleasant moments, the impediments that must be counted as joy because we know what the testing is producing for us — steadfastness, maturity, and completeness (James 1:3–4).

4. Some impediments require repentance.

Recognizing the different types of obstacles that the narrow sense of duty overcomes enables us to evaluate them rightly. When facing natural impediments or the moral evil in others, we need not feel guilt for the struggle. We can lament our bodily weaknesses and grieve over the evil done to us by other people, but we need feel no moral responsibility or conviction for having to overcome such obstacles.

When facing our own inner, moral obstacles, however, such as the passions that hinder our pursuit of godliness, we must both lament and repent for our remaining sinfulness. In such cases, we do our duty with a humble brokenheartedness because the gap between the ought to and the want to is owing to our own abiding corruption.

5. Doing our duty strengthens our will.

We labor to strengthen the deeper level of willing by cultivating habitual holy affections at this level. Seeking to do our duty in the broader sense (i.e., fulfilling our obligation to delight in God above all things) is what strengthens our ability to do our duty in the narrower sense (when the want to and ought to don’t align at every level). We want the fundamental inclinations of our will to be enduring, stable, and strong enough to overcome the temporary disruptions of our passions in the face of external impediments.

So, we Christian Hedonists do not disparage duty. Instead, we put it in its proper place. It is a crutch in our pilgrim condition, a deep and abiding resolve to overcome the various obstacles that keep us from fully rejoicing in doing good with joy unhindered. In this sense, doing our duty in the face of impediments is a crucial expression of our deep and enduring satisfaction in all that God is for us in Christ.

Audio Transcript

Back to questions about our perfectionistic tendencies, today and Monday. Many of us struggle here. Next time we look at how perfectionism makes us indecisive in life decisions. But first a question from a student. When are good grades good enough? Here’s the email: “Pastor John, hello to you and thank you for this podcast. I’m a female high school student in Minnesota, a senior taking five college classes, so technically a full-time college student as well. This last year, in my online classes, teachers would prohibit the use of textbooks during midterms and finals. But my friends would use their books anyway. I was tempted to cheat like this, too, but didn’t. I studied longer. Had I cheated, I would have had more time to study my Bible and to hang out with my family and attend church youth group events. I know I cannot cheat and honor God.

“But is overdoing my studies honoring to him either? How important is it to strive for As, if achieving them takes me away from more important things? I’m wired to be a perfectionist. But perhaps it is wiser to settle for Bs and for second best in school or in work to preserve my time for other things that are equally or more important. How do you weigh the pros and cons of excellence when settling for very good seems wiser? When are Bs wiser than As?”

When I saw this question earlier and had a chance to think about it (and even think whether I want to tackle answering it), I spent a long time pondering, How do you give counsel not only to this kind of question but to this kind of person? And by that I mean that she said, “I’m wired to be a perfectionist.” So, we have a person — and she’s, of course, not unusual — with a perfectionist bent wrestling with, you might say, good grades versus good deeds. That’s one way to say it.

Wisdom for Perfectionists

Almost everybody would agree that taking the time to save a person’s life is more important than getting an A. No question. Almost everybody would say (probably) that going to a party with your friends is not worth lowering your school performance for. But in between those two more or less obvious choices, there are dozens and dozens of gradations that a perfectionist is going to struggle with — especially a perfectionist.

And as I thought of particular pieces of advice that I could give, I realized that at every point, certain personalities, certain perfectionist types — I think I include myself here, probably — would likely take the advice and obsess over it and make the solution that I’m offering part of the problem. For example, if I said, “Read your Bible and pray so that you’ll have wisdom,” a perfectionist will ask, “How many hours a day should I read my Bible? How many hours a day should I pray?” You got yourself in a deeper hole now.

“Associating with wise people makes us wiser. To be around healthy people is to become more healthy.”

So, the question I’m asking myself is, What can I say that would point a person to the path of becoming a healthy person? And by “healthy person” I mean a person who is not tormented by questions for which there’s no clear biblical answer. The Bible simply does not tell a student how many hours to study and how much Christian service to do or how much time to spend cultivating friendships. A healthy person recognizes the complexities of such questions and humbly seeks a transformed mind and heart, which is able to spontaneously and without fixations and obsessions make healthy choices.

The Path to Healthy Living

Here’s the path I want to commend toward being a healthy person and making healthy choices when the Bible does not prescribe which choice to make. And I just have one piece of advice and then some explanations for why I say it. The advice is to seek to be a part of a community of healthy people. That’s my advice. And by healthy I mean spiritually and psychologically mature, Bible-saturated, wise, steady, sober-minded, balanced, joyful, humble, courageous, loving people — really healthy, strong saints.

Now, why would I suggest this? What’s the biblical warrant for giving that kind of advice to a perfectionist? Why do I hope that simply being around healthy Christians will have a healthy effect on perfectionistic people? Here are my three biblical answers to that question of why I’m giving this advice and why I think it will have a profound effect if we follow it.

1. The wise make us wiser.

The Bible teaches that association with wise people makes us wiser. Proverbs 13:20: “Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise” — that’s an amazing statement — “but the companion of fools will suffer harm.” Healthy ways of seeing the world and living wisely rub off. You can’t program it; you can’t itemize it; you can’t package it. And most of the time you can’t even point to when it happens. It’s relationally organic; it’s natural and it’s wonderful. So, the psalmist says in Psalm 119:63, “I am a companion of all who fear you, of those who keep your precepts.”

Or another way to say the same thing is that Paul says at least six times that his churches should imitate him. This is real, life-on-life watching and imitating. And the book of Hebrews says the same thing. It tells us, “[Be] imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises” (Hebrews 6:12). In a healthy community, this just happens. Sometimes it’s more intentional, but most of the time it’s just spontaneous. It’s caught rather than taught. To be around healthy people is to become more healthy.

And this is especially true, I think, for those who struggle in unhealthy ways with choices for which there’s no clear, biblical, step-by-step direction. It has to come from a healthy internal orientation to the world, and that we absorb in large measure from healthy people who are around us.

2. The Bible assumes spending time together.

Here’s the second way the Bible gives us warrant for this kind of advice. The New Testament uses the phrase “one another” 99 times, including — I’m not even counting the phrase “each other”; just “one another” in the ESV — “love one another,” “fellowship with one another,” “greet one another,” “serve one another,” “show hospitality to one another,” “pray for one another,” “confess your sins to one another,” “encourage one another,” “stir up one another,” “exhort one another,” “welcome one another,” “do good to one another,” “admonish one another,” “bear with one another,” “care for one another” — and the list goes on and on.

In other words, God’s plan for the healing of our personality defects — and everybody has them; I’m not picking on this girl, all right? Everybody has them. His plan for the maturing of our relational skills, and his plan for our ability to make wise choices, and his plan for all of our growth in how we serve and love each other — his plan for all these is that we spend time together, and for the more mature to become natural influences on the less mature.

3. God designs us for the common good.

Here’s one more way the New Testament commends this kind of advice. When discussing spiritual gifts and their use in the church, Paul said in 1 Corinthians 12:7, “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” “Varieties of gifts,” “varieties of service,” “varieties of activities,” all of them with this goal: the common good (1 Corinthians 12:4–7). Or you could say “the common psychological and spiritual health,” “the common psychological well-being,” “the common capacity for making wise and peaceful decisions about school grades in relation to other good things.”

So, I’m saying to our Minnesota high school senior — who may well be in my own church, for all I know — that the long-range, lifelong answer to your question is to spend time with psychologically and spiritually mature, healthy people. Be in a healthy church. I know this is not a satisfactory short-term answer for specifics this semester. I know that. But it is what all of us need for the rest of our lives.