Unproductively Uprooting The Idol of Productivity

Grace in the Endless To-Do List

Awhile ago, Alastair and I went out with a friend to see a movie. As we walked to the theatre, our friend asked how our day had been. I casually mentioned that we had rested, eaten brunch, and that Fridays are our Sabbath. Almost immediately, I added that we also read, prayed, and I even did some laundry. It didn’t seem strange to anyone else, but inside, I felt an odd need to explain that I’d done more than just rest. I caught myself trying to prove I had been productive—even on my day off.

That moment stayed with me.

I realized how often I do this. Every day, I tell Alastair about the various tasks I’ve completed—whether it’s chores, running errands, or even finishing a book. It’s like I need him to see how much I’ve accomplished. While this might seem harmless or even admirable on the surface, I’ve come to understand that there’s something deeper at play:

I need validation.

I crave admiration.

I want affirmation.

These desires are natural. The problem is where I seek to fulfill them.

For me, it’s my to-do list. I’ve tied my worth to how much I get done in a day. If I leave even one thing unfinished, I feel anxious and frustrated, and often push myself to complete it, even if I’ve crossed off dozens of other tasks. Productivity, I’ve realized, is a cruel master. At the end of a long, exhausting day, what greets me is not satisfaction but the feeling that I haven’t done enough. Yet, I still chase that pat on the back, that “good job” that makes me feel worthy.

Productivity is a cruel master. At the end of a long, exhausting day, what greets me is not satisfaction but the feeling that I haven’t done enough.

But how often do I feel truly productive?

Not nearly enough.

The list never ends.

Rarely do I finish my day with a sense of contentment.

Productivity is a relentless master.

So, I drew a chart in my journal that laid out this “idol of productivity” and all the baggage that comes with worshipping it. On less productive days (which, let’s face it, are most days), I feel anxiety, pressure, and a deep sense of inadequacy. I push myself harder, seeking validation from everyone and everything around me. On the rare productive days, I feel pride—but not the healthy kind. It’s a fragile, fleeting validation rooted in my achievements, and I often find myself bragging about what I’ve done.

The irony?

Even in my attempt to break free from the chains of productivity, I found myself trying to be productive about it—planning out how to uproot the idol, cleanse my soul, dive into scripture. I literally turned "breaking free" into another to-do list. Sheesh. Lord, have mercy.

That’s when it hit me:

I can’t fix this on my own.

So, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time: I laid on the couch, clutching my journal, and just surrendered. No writing, no planning. I simply rested. I prayed, telling God how much I hated this idol, how I knew better, but couldn’t break free from measuring my worth by my accomplishments. I confessed my need for his help.

In that stillness, I realized something. By chasing productivity, I wasn’t seeking to please God—I was trying to please myself. My to-do list had become more important than my faith, drowning out God’s voice. Idols do that, don’t they? They make a mess of our lives, consuming our time and energy, and they never reward us. They leave us feeling emptier than when we started.

God is different, however. As I lay there, feeling the weight of my shame for turning to this idol, I also felt his mercy, grace, love, and peace wash over me. I am unworthy, yet he loves me still, even when I chase after idols.

One word rose up in my heart: Abide.

The greatest gift in the Garden wasn’t the work given to Adam and Eve—it was the presence of their Creator. While work is a good gift, the Giver is far greater. Because our restless hearts crave one thing: to be loved. Jesus knows this. This probably why he says, “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love.”

Abide. Yes, please.

I hope I can “abide” without turning it into yet another task.

My prayer is that my heart will be freed from the relentless drive to accomplish, achieve, and prove my worth. I pray that for those of us who struggle with the idol of productivity, we can abide in God’s love, trusting in what He has done and what He will do through us. I pray that we learn to follow His lead rather than our own, that we grow comfortable with being unproductive if it means breaking the hold this idol has on our hearts.

Most of all, I long for the day when God will say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” not because of my accomplishments, but because of his grace. Because it’s not about what we do—it’s always about what he has done.