Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.
Luke 10:38-42
I love how living books change as we grow. I remember vividly when I read the story of Mary and Martha several years ago; it was as though someone had added it to the Bible because why had I never noticed this before? I felt like it had been placed there just for me. Is there a woman alive who can’t relate to Martha? How many times have I thought exactly what Martha expresses to Christ? I’m working and rushing around in the kitchen and maybe slamming a few pots around for emphasis in case you didn’t notice that I’m alone in here serving a crowd of people who are frolicking about without a care in the world and doesn’t anyone care about me?!
There is a tension between wanting to be Mary but needing to be Martha. We have to feed our families. We must do laundry. We need to wash dishes and scrub floors. We need to bathe babies, plant gardens, run businesses, bake bread. Jesus isn’t telling us not to do all the things that keep our homes and families running. So, what is he saying, then?
I think perhaps he is telling us to remember the one thing that is needful: Seek ye first the kingdom of God. Is that what Jesus is teaching with the Mary/Martha story? That serving through hospitality is good (and needed!), but that sitting at the feet of Jesus to hear his word should come first. That every day, despite looming and unending daily tasks, we pause, gently set aside our “many things,” and seek Jesus.
Too often, we let our physical eyes set our daily agenda. We mentally scan the list of things we “must” accomplish, and quickly squeeze in a 30-second prayer before sprinting into our morning.
Peter Kreeft, in an excellent essay on time1, said this:
We all know from experience that when we give God time, we are happy. When we cheat God, we cheat ourselves. We know this from thousands of repeated experiments. And yet we keep running away from God, from communion with God, from prayer, as if it were bitter medicine. We don't have time for prayer because we think wrongly about time and prayer. We have time and prayer backwards. We think time determines prayer, but prayer determines time. We think our lack of time is the cause of our lack of prayer, but our lack of prayer is the cause of our lack of time.
When we act in faith and sacrifice our time to God, he generously gives us far more than we give up.
We see this principle illustrated simply and clearly when Jesus fed the multitudes. The important detail to me in that account is that Jesus asked for what they had to feed everyone; he didn’t just provide it (although certainly he could have). The amount of food the boy had–five barley loaves and two small fishes–was so meager it was laughable. When Andrew says, “what are they among so many?” I hear my own thoughts at the start of a normal day. How, I think, could I possibly start my day with rest and prayer when there is just so much to do? Peter Kreeft shares his witness:
Every day that I say I am too busy to pray, I seem to have no time, accomplish little, and feel frazzled and enslaved by time. Every day that I say I'm too busy not to pray, every time I offer some time-loaves and life-fishes to Christ, he miraculously multiplies them and I share his conquest of time. I have no idea how he does it, I know that he does it, time after time.
In a way, we’re right. We have more to do than we can possibly get done in a day. If we press ahead with our pitifully inadequate and finite number of hours, we will always feel stressed and behind. Jesus offers us a better way. Give your little loaves to me, he says kindly. See what I can do with your small offering.
Because Christ magnifies and multiplies what we offer to him in faith, we can rest in the knowledge that when we seek Him first, our days will somehow – in a miracle as wondrous as feeding thousands with just a few loaves and fishes – fit in more of what is needful and good.
Really good stuff, Shannon!
Really good stuff, Haley.