By 10:30 this morning I was wishing I’d made a list of to-dos for the day — and not because I was losing track of things, but because I’d gotten so much done. However, because there was no list to cross off (and because the undones ALWAYS outweigh the dones!), I didn’t have much sense of accomplishment.
And that got me to thinking about my craving for accomplishing, getting things done, being productive. Simply put, I love to do.
Doing, however, is not in vogue with Christian circles these days. Having perhaps gotten too caught up in attaining righteousness through works, many of my peers are emphasizing the being aspect of the gospel: that is, the fact that it’s all grace, and my contribution adds up to a bunch of nothing.
Well, I got that (and yes, I needed to really get that, along with everyone else!), and sometimes I am tempted to come down hard on myself for always wanting to have done something, and not always being content with simply having been. You know — “Danica, why are you so hung up on productivity? Just be a good mama. The being is more important than the doing.”
But then I come back to this deep desire to work. To roll up my sleeves and do something. Could that possibly be a good thing — this constant need to do?
Isn’t it curious that the words I long to hear, more than anything else, are, “Well done, My good and faithful servant”?
Could it be that we’re hardwired to know we’re here to work hard? Could it be that the urging to do the grand work of the gospel is mirrored in a hundred small ways as I cross of my little chores?
I dare say there’s nothing wrong with my longing to work — so long as the first item on every to-do list is this: Love God, love others.
(And the second like it is this: smile at your kids.)