It was a beautiful, clear day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the village was filled with excitement! My sister Mary and I had gone to the market that morning to buy our usual eggs, cheese, flour, and produce; the word on the street was that Jesus was headed to the village. Our village! The Lord! The man who healed the demon possessed, who brought a dead girl back to life, and who taught with such compassion and authority! Jesus! The long awaited King who would deliver His chosen people! Jesus was coming to the village!

 

 

How we expected to recognize Him I don’t know, but then there He was. I mean, it had to be Him - brown beard, long hair, blue eyes, white, flowing robe (just kidding). But seriously, he was blessing children and talking to the parents with such love and respect; He had to be the one we’d heard of. Mary and I caught our breath and waited for Him to continue on His way. Then, He saw us. And He walked over to us. I don’t know where the words came from nor how I formed sentences, but I somehow invited him to come home with us; and what is more amazing, He accepted!

 

So the three of us walked that last quarter of a mile home. When we reached the door, my heart fell to the pit of my stomach: the house was a mess, the dishes were dirty, the coffee was cold, and the clothes were hanging to dry. What was I thinking when I invited Him? Oh right, I wasn’t thinking, the moment was too good to be true, I had to invite Him in. Why didn’t I consider the junk inside, the mess of the house. Jesus, the Lord, would see the lives we really live - not cool.

 

So I tried to collect my thoughts and breath as we walked in. I said something like “make yourself comfortable,” and then I set to work. I was determined to impress Him. A quick sweep of the floor, fold the clothes, wash the dishes, get some coffee and food going. Food, what would he like? A King? We had one slab of meat left, I could fancy that up. But I was planning on using that later. Uh! This is more effort than I thought!

 

Then I thought, “Mary, where is she? Why isn’t she lifting a finger? Am I expected to do all the cleaning, cooking, and various preparations? I mean, I want to, I’m serving, but I’d appreciate some help! Oh! Mary is just in there sitting at Jesus’ feet listening to Him! What? Can’t she think of me? If she helps, then both of us can sit and listen sooner. She is so selfish! And Jesus? He is letting her. Doesn’t he know I’m working like a slave in here? Why won’t he tell her she ought to help - especially if he is really all about service like rumor has it? I’ll go ask Him!” So I went over to Jesus and said, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

 

My heart froze when he replied, “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.” What could I do? Those were the last words I expected to hear. What could I do but stop the preparations and sit at His feet with my sister.

 

I am Martha. I am Martha when I try to hide who I really am and attempt to impress God. I am Martha when I stress over preparing a Bible study. I am Martha when I agree to do so many good things that I burn out and don’t have time for Jesus. I am Martha when I forget that “only one thing is needed.” I am Martha when I get upset and my brother and sister in Christ who is like “Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what He said.”

 

Thankfully, Christ is patient with all of us and has compassion on all of us as we strive to be like Mary.