Choosing What is Better

Mary and Martha. Sisters. Personal friends of Jesus. There story, in Luke 10:38-42 of the Bible, carries immediate associations for those familiar with it. Jesus comes for a visit to their house, which sends Martha into a frenzy of hospitable activity. While she eagerly bustles to make everything perfect, Mary curls up at Jesus' feet and listens to Him teach, apparently unaware that there are other things to do. When Martha complains to Jesus, asking Him to get Mary moving, He replies: "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." 


Poor Martha. Her behavior has sullied her name throughout history. Being labeled a "Martha" is a delicate church slur. You don't want to be like her. Always busy, always doing. Better to be like Mary the contemplative, who chose time with the Lord over the distractions of this world.


And it's true. Martha wasn't choosing what was best. But I wonder if we've missed the point.  "Martha" often evokes a certain personality type: busy, type A, administrative, ambitious, active, distracted. Conversely, "Mary" typifies mystical peace, calm, reverence, devotion... she may as well have a halo.


And yet, perhaps this story isn't about preference given to comtemplatives over busy-bees. Perhaps this story is more about choices than about personality traits.


My wedding day started out poorly. Everyone had come to town, and being the remedial delegator that I am, I was fielding a lot of phone calls and last minute questions. The majority of my wedding attendants was late to the salon. I needed to get food for lunch and make sure a crumpled dress was steamed. As often happens, family and tension come to parties together,  and I, the designated "peace-maker", felt thinly stretched. By the time the ceremony started, I was close to cracking: exhausted, fatigued, anxious and alone. 


But then, the miracle. My soon-to-be husband and I knelt and took bread-body broken, and wine-blood shed, and God interrupted my imminent melt down. I became acutely aware of His great love for me. Jesus, body broken, blood shed, for me. Present moment love.  Not only this, but blessing upon blessing, here I was, kneeling at an altar next to a beloved man who was promising himself to me for our lifetime. It was as if the Lord was whispering in my ear, "I am here. I love you. This is important. Don't miss it."  The Lord is here, rich in love, be still and know, be anxious for nothing and rejoice with thanksgiving! 


And I did rejoice.


Of course, the Lord is always with me, no matter the time or place. But there are moments, break through moments, where He presents Himself in deliberate, personal, stop-and-listen ways. He comes as a guest to my house. 


And it's not my activity that prevents me from enjoying His presence, but the motives behind it. Perhaps Jesus read in Martha the desire to impress. Perhaps He saw her wanting to earn His approval. I know He saw my desire to prove to my family that I had a good life, that I was competent, that they should be proud of me. I know He saw the undercurrent of calculations that I ignored in myself. Thank God, He broke through.


Perhaps this vignette of Martha and Mary is about choosing to trust. Will I let God lead today, or am I too afraid to rescind my control? 


Maybe it illustrates the constant battle of proving worth versus receiving love. Who am I trying to impress? Why am I trying to impress? Will I let go of that desire?


Perhaps their story is an exhortation to stop, listen, and be present with Jesus in the moment, to let Him govern the pace of life, the importance of my activities, to let Him love me. 


Perhaps He is calling to Martha, to me, to sit a while until His unconditional love penetrates my thick defenses and frees me into obedience.


Maybe then, when His love overflows me with thanksgiving, I can work in freedom too, a love-offering instead of a love-earning.