Of the making of lists

I am a maker of lists. In a chaotic world with lots to get done, it’s the only way to feel remotely organized.

Adding something to a list means I can let it go—something else is keeping track of it for me.

Coincidentally, my lists of Books (to read) and Movies (to watch) have exactly the same number of items (in the hundreds). Fortunately, the Weekend list—code for “fairly soon,” regardless of the day—is much shorter.

I separate chores that are not time-sensitive into Tasks (small things, like hem pants) and the gargantuan Big Jobs (replace the driveway). Though, to be honest, none of those chores, large or small, seem to get checked off very often.

As any serious list-maker knows, it’s strategic to break projects into small steps so you can get the dopamine rush of frequent checkmarks. (But what is the first step that will get you out the door to clean the garage?)

I’m part of even more lists at work. You should see the array required to produce a year of Messenger or four quarters of worship bulletins.

Did we used to have fewer things to remember? Did things seem less overwhelming when the lists were written on paper? Why do I need lists of lists?

There are moments, however, when the to-do list seems disturbingly short:

• Save the planet
• Save the country
• Save the church
• Save our neighbor

It turns out that adding something to a list doesn’t necessarily mean you can let it go. In fact, some lists are paralyzing. But what causes me to take heart is some of the lists found in scripture: Lists of commandments that tell us how to honor God and love our fellow humans. Lengthy genealogies, where the record is punctuated by the names of brave women who were outsiders but stood up to the powers of the day. Lists of the kind of people whom God blesses.

One list that comes to mind is so short that we don’t have to write it down:

• Do justice.
• Love kindness.
• Walk humbly with your God.