An Open Letter to All the Marthas of the World
Dear Martha,
The Bible records your story in Luke 10:38-42. Jesus is in town, and He's staying at your house. You're trying to get everything ready for your guests-- perhaps making dinner, maybe organizing sleeping arrangements, we don't really know. Whatever it is you're doing, you're serving.
And you're frustrated.
Your sister Mary, who probably helps you out in most cases, is no where to be found. You search for her, only to find that she's sitting at Christ's feet, listening to him.
If you're anything like me, by now, you must be more frustrated.
So you go to Jesus. "Lord," you say, "Don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" Now, you think. Now I will get some relief.
Except it doesn't quite work out the way you expect, does it?
Jesus looks at you. "Martha, Martha," he says. I can almost imagine him slowly shaking his head at you. "You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed -- or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
Sister dear, let me tell you how much I understand your heart. So often I, too, find myself all too caught up in the work of the day. I find myself thinking that someone has to do it, and it might as well be me. I let myself get distracted by the cares of the world, and I forget to focus on Jesus. I miss out on so many moments that are remarkably more important, but in a less flashy way, all because I want to accomplish a to-do list. I get frustrated, too, and I take it out on the people around me.
On many days, I, like you, don't have my priorities in order.
When I recognize it, I get frustrated with myself. Why can't I be less like Martha, and more like Mary, I think. Why don't I get it yet?
That, my friend Martha, is where I must apologize to you.
So often when I hear your name, I think of you as a parable, not a person. I remember the woman who was too busy to sit and listen to Jesus. I don't remember the woman of John 11, who passionately loved her family, who turned to Jesus in her grief, who called out to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world."
So often, when I hear your name, all I remember is that I'm supposed to be less like you, and more like your sister.
For that I'm sorry.
I'm confident that God never looked at you and thought, Hmm. She's very practical and hardworking. Maybe too practical and hardworking. I probably should have made her more like Mary, and less like Martha. Oh, well. I'm sure God looked at you and saw your compassion. He saw your heart for service. He saw your desire to accomplish tasks, and do them well.
And He used it.
Yes, He saw the less desirable characteristics. He saw your ability to be a workaholic. He saw your tendency to put things before Him. He saw your frustrations and the way you can whine-- to Jesus, nonetheless!
Even with that, though, God made you Martha for a reason. I am sure He looked at you and thought, Let's make her the best Martha she can be-- by making her more like Jesus.
I'm really thankful tonight that I don't have a God that looks at me, wishing I was more like Jimmy or Adrian or Jane. I'm thankful because no matter how hard I try, I can't be a good Jimmy or Adrian or Jane, and I don't want to be. No matter how great they are, they're still just as sinful as me. Comparing myself to them is simply going to steal my joy (as easily as I stole that quote from Teddy Roosevelt).
But I will try to be more like Christ.
Christ, who never sinned. Christ, who loved the very people who put Him on the cross. Christ, who gave up His life for me. Christ, who let the little children come to Him. Christ, who healed. Christ, who was more concerned with a relationship with God than with a set of rules and regulations. Christ, who taught love for our enemies. Christ, who hung out with fishermen and prostitutes and tax collectors. Christ, who put aside His own to-do list to serve. Christ, who found quiet times and quiet places to meet with God.
Christ, who gave. Christ, who served. Christ, who loved.
So I will love the part of me that connects with you, Martha-- I will love the parts of me that want to check off my to-do lists, and to not sit until the job is done, and to serve in as many capacities that I can so I can create space for the Marys of the world to meet with Jesus. That's how God made me, and I want to be the best Mackenzie I can be. I will recognize, however, my shortcomings-- my tendency to complain, to overwhelm myself with tasks, to get distracted and mistake my priorities, to put ministry ahead of my own relationship with the Lord-- and in those places, I'll ask God to make me more like Jesus.
Not more like Mary.
Love,
Mackenzie
The Bible records your story in Luke 10:38-42. Jesus is in town, and He's staying at your house. You're trying to get everything ready for your guests-- perhaps making dinner, maybe organizing sleeping arrangements, we don't really know. Whatever it is you're doing, you're serving.
And you're frustrated.
Your sister Mary, who probably helps you out in most cases, is no where to be found. You search for her, only to find that she's sitting at Christ's feet, listening to him.
If you're anything like me, by now, you must be more frustrated.
So you go to Jesus. "Lord," you say, "Don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" Now, you think. Now I will get some relief.
Except it doesn't quite work out the way you expect, does it?
Jesus looks at you. "Martha, Martha," he says. I can almost imagine him slowly shaking his head at you. "You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed -- or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
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| Christ in the House of Martha and Mary (Johannes Vermeer, 1655) |
On many days, I, like you, don't have my priorities in order.
When I recognize it, I get frustrated with myself. Why can't I be less like Martha, and more like Mary, I think. Why don't I get it yet?
That, my friend Martha, is where I must apologize to you.
So often when I hear your name, I think of you as a parable, not a person. I remember the woman who was too busy to sit and listen to Jesus. I don't remember the woman of John 11, who passionately loved her family, who turned to Jesus in her grief, who called out to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world."
So often, when I hear your name, all I remember is that I'm supposed to be less like you, and more like your sister.
For that I'm sorry.
I'm confident that God never looked at you and thought, Hmm. She's very practical and hardworking. Maybe too practical and hardworking. I probably should have made her more like Mary, and less like Martha. Oh, well. I'm sure God looked at you and saw your compassion. He saw your heart for service. He saw your desire to accomplish tasks, and do them well.
And He used it.
Yes, He saw the less desirable characteristics. He saw your ability to be a workaholic. He saw your tendency to put things before Him. He saw your frustrations and the way you can whine-- to Jesus, nonetheless!
Even with that, though, God made you Martha for a reason. I am sure He looked at you and thought, Let's make her the best Martha she can be-- by making her more like Jesus.
I'm really thankful tonight that I don't have a God that looks at me, wishing I was more like Jimmy or Adrian or Jane. I'm thankful because no matter how hard I try, I can't be a good Jimmy or Adrian or Jane, and I don't want to be. No matter how great they are, they're still just as sinful as me. Comparing myself to them is simply going to steal my joy (as easily as I stole that quote from Teddy Roosevelt).
But I will try to be more like Christ.
Christ, who never sinned. Christ, who loved the very people who put Him on the cross. Christ, who gave up His life for me. Christ, who let the little children come to Him. Christ, who healed. Christ, who was more concerned with a relationship with God than with a set of rules and regulations. Christ, who taught love for our enemies. Christ, who hung out with fishermen and prostitutes and tax collectors. Christ, who put aside His own to-do list to serve. Christ, who found quiet times and quiet places to meet with God.
Christ, who gave. Christ, who served. Christ, who loved.
So I will love the part of me that connects with you, Martha-- I will love the parts of me that want to check off my to-do lists, and to not sit until the job is done, and to serve in as many capacities that I can so I can create space for the Marys of the world to meet with Jesus. That's how God made me, and I want to be the best Mackenzie I can be. I will recognize, however, my shortcomings-- my tendency to complain, to overwhelm myself with tasks, to get distracted and mistake my priorities, to put ministry ahead of my own relationship with the Lord-- and in those places, I'll ask God to make me more like Jesus.
Not more like Mary.
Love,
Mackenzie
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