{This work of fiction is based on the framework of Luke 10:38-42.}
Martha tip-toed into the room where Jesus was speaking to the guests. She padded around the table setting plates at each spot. She did not want to disturb him or her other guests.
She did, however, want to disturb Mary.
She let the last plate clatter into place to get Mary’s attention. But no one noticed.
Not even Mary.
Martha hurried back to the kitchen where the kettle was spitting into the fire. She snatched it out, and when she did boiling water splashed out the spout and splattered on her toes. She pressed her lips closed, squeezed her eyes, let out the faintest growl and dabbed the droplets off her toes.
She glanced into the other room where Mary seemed set on avoidance of duty.
She yanked bread from the oven and poked it for doneness. It was still not done!
I should have started earlier. Martha’s mind spiraled down toward everything that should have been. I should have bought the bread, then it would be done! I should have told Mary exactly what I expected of her. I should have taught her not to sit and gawk. She’s bringing disgrace! This is a house that serves! Even Jesus would agree with me!
Martha, huffed in the doorway once again to catch Mary’s eye and rouse her from laziness. Perhaps an uncomfortably long stop in the doorway would shake Mary out of her childlike trance. Martha waited then rolled her eyes.
Maybe Jesus would notice and send her to the kitchen. He had 12 helpers after all, and Martha was only asking for one. Still, He did not send Mary.
Take a look around, Mary. Martha had wanted to scold, His disciples do not leave him to do all the work alone.
But Mary was hopelessly caught up in every word Jesus was saying.
Martha scampered in and out of the room with cups and wine, cloths and water.
Back in the kitchen, Martha checked the bread for the final time. Finally done. She slapped floured hands on her apron, dusted off the hand prints and marched through the doorway where 14 men and Mary sat.
It was a sight. And Martha intended to end it.
When Jesus paused mid-sentence Martha interrupted, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself! Tell her to help me!”
Mary was embarrassed and started to stand, but Jesus held out his hand directing her to stay.
“Dear Martha,” He shook his head. “You are worried and upset about many things.” Yes! Martha had wanted to answer, that’s why I’m mentioning it!
“Only one thing is needed.” Martha felt the color drain from her face. Is there one thing that I haven’t done? Is there one detail I haven’t seen to?
Jesus turned back to Mary settling in again on the floor at his feet, but He spoke to Martha. “Mary has chosen what is better.”
Martha was confused. “I’m sweaty, the food is ready, the kitchen is a disaster, but Mary has done better by sitting with you?”
He nodded, “and it cannot be taken away from her.”
Martha stood stunned and silent. She stumbled to the kitchen to collect herself.
******************
Jesus could have sent Mary to the kitchen to help Martha and address her complaint.
But he didn’t.
Jesus could have stood up, left his disciples, and helped Martha Himself.
But he didn’t.
Jesus cared so much for Martha that he let her unravel until finally she was ready to listen to him too. Because Martha’s most pressing need was not in the kitchen, but in her heart.
When people do not act how we think they ought, we get proud, act catty, and accuse God of not doing his part. But instead of feeling better, we end up mad at everyone, including the only One who can relieve us of our irritated stupor.
“Don’t you care?” we demand.
The answer, of course, is yes. He cares. First Peter 5:7 tells us he most certainly cares.
But he also cares for us in ways which we have yet to consider.
He sees when we are dragged in all different directions and bothered about trivial things.
He sees how we have misused the gift of service, and twisted it into a burden by complaining about our station and comparing our work with the work of another.
But rather than relieve all our complaints, Jesus longs to relieve us of complaining.
And sometimes it might mean following the example of that irritating sister whose serene fascination with Jesus shows us how to invest in the one thing that can’t be taken away.
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