But Martha was busy with all the work to be done. She went in and said, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me alone to do all the work? Tell her to help me.” [Luke 10:40 (NCV)]
Thank you, God, for blessings received: no injuries, not a drop of rain fell, nothing broke that couldn’t be fixed, and I never ran out of fruit. It’s summer and, for me, that means family and friends gather at our lake house, cousins run wild, and havoc reigns. The last holiday weekend found eleven of us (five being children under ten) gathered under one roof. It was chaotic and noisy and wonderful. Thank you, God, for family and for showing me that people, not perfection, are what’s important.
At the end of the weekend, my daughter-in-law remarked that I’m different from when she first visited the lake over twelve years ago. Of course I am—I’m twelve years older and four more grandchildren wiser! Those additional years and family members finally convinced me that I don’t run a five-star bed and breakfast and I am neither Martha Stewart nor God. I’ve accepted that our house is not a luxury lodge and my guests will have to pick up their own damp towels, serve themselves, clear the table, and prepare some of the food. Recognizing that I’ll never be Martha, we use paper plates, plastic silverware, disposable cups, and a vinyl tablecloth. Most important, I’ve stopped thinking I can be God. Oh, I knew I wasn’t God twelve years ago, but that didn’t keep me from striving for a godlike perfection nor did it keep me from exhausting myself and those around me as I tried to orchestrate events so everything was flawless and everyone content. I no longer feel responsible for other people’s happiness. I can’t read minds and anticipate every need; I can’t solve every argument; I can’t comfort every crying child; and I’m not responsible for the weather.
Twelve years ago, I was like Martha, not Stewart but the Bible’s Martha: always busy with arrangements for my guests. My guess is that Martha’s preparations didn’t need to be as elaborate as they were; I know mine didn’t. The overburdened Martha was annoyed that her sister Mary was enjoying time sitting at the feet of Jesus. If Martha was anything like me, she probably wouldn’t have let Mary do much of anything in the kitchen anyway. I know I didn’t share my domestic duties well but, like Martha, resented it when I missed out on time with my guests.
I’ve learned that catching fireflies is more important than laundry and a walk with a grand has priority over washed dishes. I wonder if Martha, after Jesus chided her for misplaced priorities, put down the dish towel and joined her sister. Some things can wait—dirty dishes and crumbs on the counter are just two of them. Other things, like time with Jesus or time with family and friends, are precious and must be treasured whenever the opportunity arises.
It was more than just years and additional family members that changed me from a Martha into a Mary—it was prayer and the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life. While God didn’t miraculously start doing my chores, He did teach me to accept my limitations and to stop striving for perfection. Life is so much easier when I share the everyday tasks with others and leave the important stuff to Him. I’ve really changed because of my never-ending basket of fruit. Not the one on the kitchen counter—that one was empty in no time. I mean the one I have in my heart—the one the Holy Spirit keeps filled with an endless supply of His fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
Action expresses priorities. [Mahatma Gandhi]
Devotions of the Heart 