Have you ever felt like that dancing chicken at the fair, frantically pecking and moving, but going nowhere meaningful? The image comes from the movie Pure Country, where George Strait’s character, worn out from the pressures of fame, reflects on feeling like a “dancing chicken.” His drummer poignantly asks, “Why didn’t that chicken just jump off the stage?”
This simple question cuts to the heart of a problem many of us face: overcommitment. In our relentlessly busy lives, are we just dancing chickens, performing on command, without ever pausing to ask ourselves why or if we even want to be on this stage?
It’s easy to fall into the trap of doing too much. We live in a culture that often equates busyness with importance, filling our calendars until they resemble a chaotic Jackson Pollock painting. We feel guilty for having open spaces, as if unscheduled time is a moral failing. But could it be that we have it all backward?
Are we chasing more – more money, more activities, more hobbies, more accomplishments – at the expense of what truly matters? Donald Whitney, in his book The Spiritual Disciplines, wisely observes that many “have dabbled in everything but discipline themselves in nothing.” How many areas of our lives are we just dabbling in, spread thin across countless commitments? Extracurriculars, relationships, parenting, faith, work – are we truly present and engaged, or just going through the motions, like that frantic chicken?
Personally, I’m no stranger to overdoing it. Throughout different seasons of life, this tendency has manifested in various ways. As a young teacher, I was the quintessential overworker, burning the candle at both ends. During seasons of personal challenges, I turned to overspending and other unhealthy coping mechanisms. Even after leaving my job to homeschool my children, the overcommitment persisted, morphing into an endless to-do list and a packed schedule.
I, too, have glorified busy. I’ve bought into the lie that more equals better, foolishly believing that rest can wait. But the truth is, this frantic pace is unsustainable and ultimately unfulfilling.
So, what’s the antidote? How do we break free from the chicken dance and reclaim our time and energy for what truly matters? It requires doing the hard things:
- Assess: Take a brutally honest look at where you are and where you genuinely desire to be.
- Prioritize: Determine what truly deserves your time and energy.
- Minimize: Strip away the excess and unnecessary commitments.
- Just Say No: Learn to wield this powerful two-letter word.
Sounds simple, right? Yet, why is it so incredibly difficult to implement? My father wisely said years ago, “The hardest word you’ll ever learn to say is no.” Saying no feels like swimming upstream in a current of yeses, but it’s absolutely essential. The evidence is all around us. We see it in the rising rates of stress and burnout, in the reliance on quick fixes to cope with overwhelm, and in the constant feeling of being stretched too thin. We are leaving ourselves with no margin to breathe, no space for spontaneity, no room for rest.
This isn’t just a personal struggle; it’s a societal trend. Authors and thought leaders are addressing this very issue. Jen Hatmaker, in her book For the Love, speaks to how our generation is attempting to do more than ever before. Pastors and counselors are offering advice on managing stress, but the fundamental issue isn’t stress management; it’s commitment management.
There is simply no way to do all the things we’re trying to do and maintain our sanity, our relationships, or our well-being. So, let’s make a plan to jump off the stage and stop the chicken dance:
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Assess Your Time: Create a detailed list or even a spreadsheet of all your current commitments and activities. Break down your day hour by hour and see where your time is actually going.
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Prioritize Ruthlessly: Once you have your list, identify the non-negotiables – the things that absolutely must stay. Then, take a hard look at what’s left. Involve your family in this process. Ask them what activities they truly value. You might be surprised by their answers. My boys, when asked about their favorite activities, simply said, “Home.” They crave downtime, simplicity, and connection, not endless activities.
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Minimalize Your Commitments: After discussing with your loved ones, decide what stays and what goes. Write it down and stick to it. My husband, inspired by a radio program, drew a circle representing our commitments for a month. The rule was simple: no new activities could be added unless something else was removed. It was a visual reminder to prioritize and minimize.
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Practice Saying No: Saying yes is often easier in the moment, but the long-term cost is high. Saying no is an act of self-care and a gift to those you love. It creates space for what truly matters. To strengthen my resolve, I even formed an accountability group with fellow “overachievers.” We made a pact to consult each other before saying yes to new commitments, providing mutual support and a dose of reality.
[](Keep Calm and Say No to Overcommitment)
It might sound humorous, this pact to say no, but it’s a necessary step in a culture that constantly pushes us to do more. When you see in black and white just how much you’re trying to juggle, it becomes clear that it’s simply unsustainable. No one, no matter how capable, can do it all, nor should we try.
So, let’s return to the image of the dancing chicken. Let’s take the drummer’s advice from Pure Country. Why don’t we jump off the stage? Let’s call a time out, regroup, prioritize, minimize, and learn to say no. Ask yourself the hard questions: Who matters most? What matters most? What must stay, and what must go? As Pastor Chris Hodges wisely said, “Many things are doable, but not sustainable.” We can live in a frenzy for a season, but not long-term.
Let’s work together to create a new normal – a slower, simpler, more intentional way of living. Let’s choose to say no to the relentless demands on our time and energy, and trade the fleeting allure of popularity for the lasting rewards of respect, well-being, and genuine connection.
For our sanity.
For our marriages.
For our families.
For the sake of our own humanity.
[](Learning to Prioritize and Say No)
With much love and prayers,
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