Somewhere in my study—likely under a pile of hymnals, three bulletins from last month, and a sermon idea scribbled on the back of a grocery receipt—there exists a To-Do List. I say “exists” in the same way one says the Loch Ness Monster “exists”—with conviction, affection, and absolutely no verifiable evidence.
The Rector’s To-Do List is a curious creature. It begins each week with hope and promise, a tidy column of achievable tasks written in my best liturgical handwriting. “Email parishioner.” “Plan Advent sermon series.” “Find missing thurible chain.” All straightforward. All noble. All soon to be overshadowed by the unexpected realities of parish life.
Because just when I am about to cross something off — say, “Review meeting minutes” — the doorbell rings. It is either a delivery driver who is certain this is definitely the other rectory across town, or someone needing a moment of pastoral care, or a raccoon inspecting our compost container with theological curiosity. And suddenly, the To-Do List grows another page, while nothing is crossed off the old one.
Every priest I know has the same list. Some hide theirs in a leather-bound planner. Some keep it digitally. Others write tasks on their hands like teenagers studying for exams. But the items that remain eternally uncrossed are always the same:
• Organize office bookshelves (a task that now requires a specialist in both archaeology and spiritual discernment).
• Sort out the “miscellaneous” drawer (a drawer which mysteriously multiplies its contents overnight, much like the loaves and fishes but less edible).
• Refill the church pens (where do they go? A monastery for runaway ballpoints?).
• Update the parish website (always tomorrow, never today).
And then there is the item at the very bottom, written in smaller letters than the rest because it feels so lofty: Rest.
That one seldom gets crossed off either.
But here’s what I’ve learned: unfinished does not mean unfaithful.
Jesus Himself lived with an un-crossed-off list. The Gospels never describe Him saying, “Apostles, gather round — I’ve completed everything I planned for today.” What they do show is a life attentive to interruptions as moments of grace, encounters as opportunities for love, and delays as invitations to trust God more than our tidy systems.
The work of ministry — and truly, the work of Christian living — is not measured in completed checkboxes but in the ways we show up with compassion when life rearranges our schedule. If anything, the items we don’t cross off remind us we are not the Saviour; we simply serve Him, one slightly chaotic day at a time.
So if your list looks like mine — well-thumbed, aspirational, and often rearranged by the Holy Spirit — be at peace. God is far more interested in the posture of the heart than the perfection of the planner.
And now, I should probably go find that thurible chain. It’s been on the list since 2018.
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Companion Prayer
Gracious and patient God,
You know the lists we make and the ones that make us.
You see the tasks we finish with joy,
and the ones we carry from week to week,
hoping for more time, more energy, more clarity.
Teach us to welcome holy interruptions,
to see Your presence in the unexpected knock,
the unplanned conversation,
the neighbour in need,
and even the chaos of our calendars.
Grant us grace to work faithfully,
rest honestly,
and trust that You hold all things—
including our unfinished tasks —
in Your gentle and capable hands.
Bless our striving, bless our stopping,
and bless the people we serve along the way.
Through Jesus Christ,
the Lord of our days and keeper of our lists.
Amen