Life Hacks & Sacred Rhythms

Finding Life Beyond the To-Do List

I have a confession: I'm obsessed with optimization.

If there's a life hack out there, I've probably tried it—or at least watched an Instagram reel about it. Time-blocking? Check. Email batching? You bet. I've attempted to optimize everything from my sleep patterns to my workout routines to my parenting strategies. (That last one isn't going so well—unless you count perfecting the art of guilt and bribes.)

I'm just emerging from an incredibly intense 12 months during which I stepped into a new dimension of ministry as a Senior Pastor: leading a major capital campaign. This was our church's first such campaign in over 20 years, and one of the only ones with a comprehensive focus—from remodeling our historic sanctuary to sustainability to installing a fire suppression system. As the Senior Pastor, I felt the weight of not just making it successful, but making it *meaningful*. It needed to be more than a fundraising drive; it had to be a journey of faith, a glimpse into what's possible with God.

The role demanded an enormous investment of hours, commitment, and energy. It also meant venturing into unknown territory, which was both exhilarating and exhausting.

The campaign has exceeded expectations (we've nearly reached $3 million!). I grew as a leader, deepened my connection with the church, and discovered reserves of strength I didn't know I had.

But here's what I haven't shared from the pulpit: it was a lot.

The campaign became a second full-time job atop my existing responsibilities of pastoring, leading, parenting, and maintaining some semblance of a personal life. And here's the tricky part—my inner achiever (hello, Enneagram Three!) thrived on the dopamine hits of accomplishment and external validation.

Something curious happens when you operate at maximum capacity for months on end: you begin to forget who you are beyond all the doing.

The hardest part wasn't the long hours or endless meetings. It's been trying to downshift from that constant state of drive and ambition—like being stuck in fifth gear while trying to park the car. Technically possible, but definitely not recommended.

As I write this, I'm in a season of rediscovering who I am beyond the spreadsheets and strategic plans. Don't get me wrong—the “doing self” is incredibly seductive. It comes with gold stars, congratulatory emails, and the warm glow of accomplishment. But God keeps nudging me toward something deeper, more grounded: a life with space for sacred lingering, for wonder, for what I preach about but struggle to practice—rest, play, and connection.

If we're born creative, playful, and curious, why does productivity become the invisible measure for making meaning or measuring worth? How did we convince ourselves we could optimize every moment to make "the most" out of life?

Especially when life isn't meant to be a series of tasks to complete, but rather an invitation to create with all its raw materials—the good, the bad, the ugly—while paying loving attention to what unfolds and who we are becoming.

In the future, when the optimizing, “doing self” raises alarm bells like:

“How did I make today count? Did I do enough?”

Perhaps we might see it through Maria Bowler's reframing questions:

"What becomes available if your presence is all that is needed?

If there is nothing to prove or perform, a whole new field is available to play in: generosity, spontaneous insight, curiosity, and power."

I'll meet you out in that field to play, my friends.

*In Part 2, I'll share how my decidedly un-optimized children taught me the most important lesson about worth and productivity. Stay tuned...*