Martha-up

Martha (with sweat dripping off of her brow) had had it.  Mary could at least get off of her lazy be-hind and help.  She wanted to be sitting down, too but the work wasn’t going to get done by itself.  If Mary would help, they both could relax and enjoy the teaching.  But no…  Not only was Mary not going to help but the Master took her to task for asking!

Isn’t this the way we hear the story of Jesus at Martha’s house portrayed?  Isn’t Martha always condemned for being encumbered about with much while Mary is praised because she chose the good part?  So much so, that we have made a doctrine out of being a Martha or a Mary (with the Martha’s being much criticized).

This is the first recorded instance of Jesus being in Martha’s house but it wouldn’t be the last.  We only have a few brief facts about this story.

1. Jesus came to Bethany, Martha’s hometown

2.  Martha invited Him to her house for dinner

3.  Mary sat and listened while Martha worked

4.  Jesus commended Mary

And we have condemned Martha ever since.

But…it was practical Martha who had a house, enough food to feed the implied large group that was there and was willing to do it.  It was practical Martha who went to meet Jesus when He came after Lazarus died.  (We often condemn her for saying ‘if you’d only been here’.  We tend to forget that she added ‘but even now I know that God will give you whatever You ask’.)   It was practical Martha who went and got Mary when Jesus specifically asked to see her.

Is it obvious I like Martha?  It’s the Marthas (male or female) that keep the church clean, the lights working and the sound system going.  It’s the Marthas that get up early and stay up late preparing for that class (VBS, concert, women’s meeting, etc.).  It’s the Marthas that stand quietly in the background making sure everything goes smoothly.

My question is…why (in our minds) does it have to be one or the other?  Shouldn’t we be both?  Many hands do make light work.  Sometimes we need to be still and soak in Jesus.  Then, sometimes we need to Martha-up and get it done so we can all enjoy Jesus.

Another Day:

Father’s Day was last Sunday.  My pastor, Brian Rayburn, preached an awesome sermon on being a man after God’s heart.  Still, to me it was just a day.  My dad’s been dead for 24 years; no grandfathers or in-laws to celebrate with.  I had a friend say the same thing:  it’s just another day.  It started me thinking about how much we allow memories or events from the past to mark our days in the present. 

Mine was Mother’s Day; something I have never gotten to celebrate as a mother.  Not married until 29, 2 miscarriages, 1 hysterectomy and 1 divorce later the notion of celebrating Mother’s Day as a mother was dead.  It was not an easy death but then, deaths like those rarely are. 

I dreaded that holiday.  It was a constant barrage of advertising all pointed at reminding me I was not a mother.  At least that’s the way it seemed to me.

I dreaded going to church that Sunday because they made a big deal out of it (and rightly so).  Mothers are special (yes, Dads are too).  Still, it was hard to celebrate with the mothers while I sat in the pew knowing I would never be celebrated like that.  I don’t want to sound self-pitying, just know that it was not an easy thing to let go of but God got me through it.    

I did not become the eccentric aunt (no snide remarks from the peanut gallery) or the crazy cat lady (again, no remarks) but it was a close run thing. 

Today, I am surrounded by loving nieces and nephews (even greats).  I don’t see them often but I enjoy it when I do.  I ooh and ah over the babies (both blood and adopted), spoil them and send them home (no muss; no fuss).  Every so often, someone will ask if I would like to take one home (in a heartbeat).  I always say yes and mean it. 

I enjoy celebrating Mother’s Day ,now.  My mom passed last year but I still have Carole (ex-mother-in-law; good friend) to celebrate with. 

I wrote a song and one verse asks: 

will I let my tears and fears guide each step I take

or will I let go of my past

and be free at last

to live in the here and now

I choose the here and now.

Imaginary Conversations

We've all had them. 

Sometimes we’re practicing for a presentation or a speech and trying to prepare for any questions that come up. 

Sometimes we’re tackling a knotty problem and we ‘talk’ it over with someone we can no longer actually talk to.  We know how they would respond and that influences the outcome of the conversation and how we handle the problem.

Sometimes we’re trying to marshal our thoughts for an argument so we can drill our point home.  This conversation is a bit trickier.  Since we believe we know the other person well enough to know exactly what they're going to say, the argument ensues.  This argument can get heated enough to make us mad and keep us mad (come on, admit it) right up to the moment we have the real conversation.  We jump the person right away, they get defensive and nothing is solved.  Or worse, they say something totally off track from our imaginary argument and blow our reasoning right out of the water—which just makes us madder.  We walk away fuming and they walk away totally confused about what just happened.

The Holy Spirit has been working with me concerning these imaginary arguments to stop them before they start.  Why?  Well…because they’re imaginary and very damaging.  We can’t predict how the real conversation will go. Too much of the time (even if it is someone we are very close to), we don’t really know what is going on in their heads at that moment.  We only see it from our perspective.  Sometimes (more often than we’d like to admit), we expect them to say things we would say if we were in their shoes.  Or, we expect them to act like someone from our past.

It has been a very interesting two weeks.  Between trying to speak life (blog from two weeks ago) and this argument thing, I am having to back up and change my words—a lot.  Two Sundays ago, I told the guys in the sound booth at church that I was mouthy (already working on the speak life thing) so I was going to keep my mouth shut (only way to avoid mouthy-ness altogether).  Now this! 

So if I’m very quiet the next time you see me, you’ll know why.

My Hope

When I have one of those days or weeks or seasons, I have several go-to songs that I sing and they always lift my soul.  One of those is The Solid Rock by Edward Mots and William B. Bradbury. 

Verse 1:

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus blood and righteousness

I dare not trust the sweetest frame

But wholly lean on Jesus’ name

I distinctly remember the mental shape I was in when I asked Jesus to cleanse me and be my Lord and Savior.  It was not a good place to be.  In those baby Christian years, I often looked at the lives of people around me and wondered how they managed to live day to day without the hope of Jesus.  Many turned to alcohol or drugs.  Some turned to extreme life styles or the reckless pursuit of money. 

I started building my future, my outlook, my foundation on Jesus.  It was (and still is) a process.  There will never be a time, as long as I’m on this earth in this physical body, I am completely through building.

I thought I was a student of the Word.  I had read the Bible through several times; done chronological studies, topical studies, book studies, etc.  But, without realizing it, I always filtered it through what others said.  Yet as a Christian, the Word is supposed to be my final authority; not what someone else says about it.

Then, my foundation was knocked out from under me.  The lovely Christian house I had built fell down around my ears.  That was not a good place to be, either but it did make me look at my building process and realize I had to make the Word final authority, period.

The house I have now is not quite so structured or lovely.  To the outsider, it might even look haphazardly put together; a room added here, a porch added there.  Some of the rooms are big and square with straight walls and full of good stuff because the foundation is strong.  Some of them are small, the walls are leaning and the floors are bare because I’m still working on them.  But inside, it flows from one room to the other and I am quite comfortable in it.  It will always be shifting and changing as I grow stronger in the Word and become bolder in its authority because now…

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus…