How did I get here? No, that’s not an existential question, or even a religious philosophical question. It’s simply a logistical one. How did I get here? Here surrounded by more than I can handle, more than I can successfully navigate, more than I can do well or even passably? How did I get here in a role I wasn’t supposed to play, trying to parent my parent? I know I’m hardly the first one in this position, the first one to make this leap. But there is just something fundamentally wrong about it. And everyone feels it. Not just me. We’re all unsettled by this.
We’re all overwhelmed these days. It is a condition of life in the world we have shaped around us. The lists are long and the responsibilities legion. Most of the time we just keep going, doing what needs to be done. But once in a while we get lost in the midst of it all. Once in while the carefully constructed jenga tower of obligations and opportunities becomes unstable and we are left in the rubble of unfinished tasks, feeling like we’ve let everyone down, like we’ve disappointed those most important to us, like even those we run to are pushing us away because we’ve become a liability. We can’t carry the load anymore, so we lash out.
The teetering edifice of solutions for dad was beginning to wobble more than I liked, and when my siblings asked a couple of legitimate questions, I lashed out at them, saying “no one cares that you’ve left me to do all the work by myself! Tell them then to help me.”
Luke 10:38-42 Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. 39 She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying. 40 But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me." 41 But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; 42 there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."
OK, that wasn’t exactly what I said. But it was what she said. Martha. Poor Martha. Oh my goodness, have we given Martha a rough time. And often for the wrong things. She wasn’t spiritual enough, some claim. She should have set aside the dinner preparations and sat down with Mary and listened to Jesus. He wasn’t going to be there forever, after all. Don’t miss an opportunity to listen.
Well, I guess we can’t argue with that. We do need to listen to, and listen for Jesus. Nobody, especially not me, is going to tell you to stop paying attention to Jesus. That’s one of my most constant messages, don’t squeeze Jesus out of your busy life. Take time to listen, to be present, to sit at his feet and be loved into transformation. But that doesn’t mean we have to drop everything. St Paul says we are to pray constantly. How are we to do that and live a life engaged in the world around us? We have to learn to listen while we work. We have to learn to be alive to the Presence even while we are elbow deep in family issues and household chores. Brother Lawrence, a late 17th Century monk known for wisdom amidst the domesticity of life, said I hear God best when I’m washing dishes. Sounds like a Martha wanna be. At least what I think Martha wanted to be. Needed to be. Could have been. But instead she got in her own way.
It wasn’t what Martha chose to do that was the problem. It was the self she chose to do it in that tripped her up. At the top of the list of social and religious law among the people of Israel was the importance of hospitality. It was a law woven into the very concept of what it meant to be God’s people. It was taken very seriously. You don’t say to visitors, “oh just make yourself at home.” No, you help them know they are at home. That they are valued and welcomed and catered to. It’s hard work this hospitality thing, just ask Martha.
Which is why many churches aren’t very good at it. Not because they don’t want to be. Not because they are unfriendly. Friendliness isn’t really the issue. Sure, we want to be friendly while we greet folks. That’s the easy part, really. Being nice is something we church people excel at. And we should. We want to present a pleasant face to the world. But if being nice was all it took then we would succeed at everything. Hospitality takes hard work, and at the top of the chore chart is setting yourself aside. Remembering that what you do is not for your own satisfaction, your own growth, your own spiritual lift, but about sharing Christ by serving people, by making them feel like this whole event (worship, discipleship, evangelism, stewardship, mission and witness) is for their benefit. It is designed for the purpose of bringing them into the presence of the living Christ. Of lifting them up out of the loneliness of modern living, out of the emptiness of existence, out of the hopelessness of a dog eat dog climbing to the top of the heap kind of life. Of welcoming them home like a prodigal for whom we’ve been straining to catch sight of every single day. We don’t do what we do for us. We do it because we are always with Him and everything He has to offer us is already ours. We do it because we live the party and we desperately want everyone to join in.
That’s what Martha forgot for a moment. Luke says she was distracted by her many tasks. You know the feeling. Being distracted by our many tasks. That’s a completely different feeling than when we are invested in our many tasks. When we are doing what we do because we know in some small way the world is better because we do it. We know, we believe, we hope that all that we do is making the Kingdom of God a little more real, a little closer, within reach to those who have lost sight of it. That’s what we want to do. That’s how we find God in the washing of dishes. And scrubbing of floors. But, like Martha, we need reminding now and again.
Because we don’t feel the Presence any more. Instead we feel the weight of the dishes we are carrying, we feel the strain on our backs as we knead another lump of dough to make more bread for these hungry disciples who are eating us out of house and home. We count the costs, we feel the burden, we wipe the sweat from our brow and notice that there are others not carrying their share of the load. And we snap. “Lord, don’t you care...” What a way to start. Don’t you care. Nobody cares. Poor me. Do it yourself.
That’s what I snapped to my sister and brother when they asked questions I didn’t like. Do it yourself. I wonder if Martha dropped a tray of dishes at Jesus’s feet. Don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Don’t you care? Tell her then to help me. If you care, if you really cared about me, that’s how you’d show it. By telling her to help me.
Jesus did care. Does care. About the burden you are carrying. Mostly because of how it is affecting you. “You are worried and distracted by many things. There is need of only one thing.” One thing? What’s that one thing? Sometimes I think church growth strategies are about finding this one thing. If we just do this, whatever this is, then everything will go well. One thing. Apparently some commentators suggested that he meant a simpler meal would be better. Don’t cook a roast, but crackers and cheese will be fine. Somehow it seems more profound than that. The one thing.
Mary chose the better part, Jesus said. So, it’s the sitting at his feet thing. That’s better than working in the kitchen, right? Well, no. The one thing is being fully present with Him. Whether sitting at his feet, or fixing Him dinner, or singing His praise, or feeding His hungry, or loving His children. Are you aware of His love and support? Of His grace and compassion for you? And does it radiate from you in the kitchen or the classroom, in the sanctuary or the street corner, in the office or the shop floor? Choosing the better part isn’t a specific act, it is a way of acting, of believing, of being.
Next week I’m off to Mission u to teach for a week on the Bible and Human Sexuality. You know, easy stuff. It’s not the right time, I’m way too busy, overwhelmed with responsibilities and duties. I have barely been in the office for weeks, I’ve got Dad to get settled, kids to transition and there still isn’t a marker on mom’s grave and it is starting to bother me. I know I’ll be on the computer and on the phone all week in between sessions at Mission U. But it is my prayer and my hope that I will be present with them, even as I attempt to stay present with my other responsibilities. And when I start to crack under the stain (because I will), I may say, Lord, don’t you care? And I’ll listen for the voice that says, “you are worried and distracted by many things, there is need of only one thing. Me.” I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
Shalom,
Derek
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