Compassion

Compassion

Just then a lawyer stood up with a question to test Jesus. "Teacher, what do I need to do to get eternal life?"

He answered, "What's written in God's Law? How do you interpret it?"

He said, "That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself."

"Good answer!" said Jesus. "Do it and you'll live."

Looking for a loophole, he asked, "And just how would you define 'neighbor'?"

Jesus answered by telling a story. "There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man.”

"A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man's condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, 'Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I'll pay you on my way back.'

"What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?"

"The one who treated him kindly," the religion scholar responded.

Jesus said, "Go and do the same." (Luke 10:25-37)

Of course, this is the fairly well known story of the “Good Samaritan,” and Jesus tells it in response to a question from a smart aleck lawyer. (Leave it to lawyers) And basically, the question was this: “What do I have to do to have eternal life?” Or, “What must I do to be saved?” And you can just picture Jesus kinda grinning a bit as he throws the question right back in the lawyer’s lap: "What’s written in God’s law? How do you interpret it?" Jesus asks the question, the man gives the answer and then Jesus responds by saying, “Good answer! Do it and you’ll live.” But the lawyer did what lawyers do so well: he looked for a loophole. So, wanting to justify himself, he says to Jesus, "And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?"

Why’d the lawyer ask that question? I mean, he’d measured himself against both of the commands and figured that he’d aced the first one. Of course, keeping the second one, well ….. that depended on how you defined “neighbor.” In other words, the lawyer was asking, “OK, who’s my neighbor, and how much is that gonna cost me?”

Aren’t we like that sometimes? Trying to reduce God’s commands down to something with which we can live? We’d like to believe that loving our neighbor means loving people who love us, or at least loving people who are lovable. So, in that context, loving our neighbor means doing nice things for people who’ll probably do nice things back. And that’s probably what the lawyer was thinking, too. But the lawyer’s original question was, “What do I have to do to get in?” However, Jesus’ answer to that question didn’t tell him what he had to do to get “in,” but described what a person who’s already “in” looks like. Oh, the lawyer knew the right answers alright, but he was totally unprepared for what compassion looks like in real life.

The 15 mile journey from Jericho to Jerusalem was infamous. It’s about an eight (8) hour walk climbing 3,750 vertical feet. (That’s like a 5% grade!) Not only was it a steep climb, but along its path were numerous places where highwaymen would lie in wait for their next, unsuspecting victim. In fact, this route was so treacherous that it was commonly referred to as the “Way of Blood.” And, since Jesus didn’t call it a parable, it would have been a very believable story to those who were listening, and it’s a primer on compassion, or grace.

Jesus starts the story by referring to the victim as “a man….” Today, we’d probably say, “Some guy….” The man, likely a Jewish male, had been robbed, wounded and left for dead. He needed help in the worst possible way. And as the unknown victim lay half-dead beside the road, three different men come his way. The first is introduced as a priest. However, when he saw the man, he crossed to the other side and continued on his journey.

Now some have offered excuses for the priest by suggesting that he didn’t want to touch the man because he might have been dead. And if that’d been true, that would have made the priest ceremonially unclean and unable to carry out his duties. But notice that it says that he “was on his way down the same road.” In other words, he was leaving church. And if anyone was going to reflect the character of God, shouldn’t it have been the priest? You’d think.

The second passerby was a Levite. In Jewish tradition, a Levite was a member of the tribe of Levi who performed certain religious duties for the Israelites, including taking on certain political responsibilities as well. Now, at least the Levite went over and looked at the poor guy, but he was just rubber-necking. You know the type, don’t you? He’s the one who slows down and cranes his neck while driving by an accident scene to see what happened and then says, “Whew, I’m glad that wasn’t me!”? And just like the preacher, he did nothing to help the victim.

In other words, both of these men saw the victim, but ignored his need. These were two religious professionals caught up in a lifeless religion. Oh, they were plenty pious at church and all, but their religion didn’t affect the way they lived. And it would have been shocking enough if Jesus had told his audience that the victim was helped by some ordinary Joe. But it was a jaw-dropper to hear that the guy was a Samaritan who’d come to the aid of a Jewish man who had been ignored by his countrymen – twice. So what? Well, here’s what.

When Israel and Judah divided, the ancient city of Shechem became the religious center of the Northern Kingdom. However, in about 883 B.C., the political capital of the nation was transferred by King Omri to his newly-built city of Samaria where it remained until it fell to the Assyrians. The inhabitants were promptly deported to various parts of Assyria, and colonists were sent in to fill the void. As a result, a mixed people with a mixed religion were established. They were half-breeds, “dogs,” and were considered unclean and to be avoided at all costs if you were a practicing Jew. In other words, being called a “Samaritan” was fightin’ words.

So, it would have been easy to conclude that the Samaritan would’ve simply finished the guy off instead of coming to his rescue. In those days, “good” and “Samaritan” were never used together in the same sentence; there was nothing “good” about a “Samaritan.” But the passage says that “when he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him.” The Greek word is splagchnizomai, which means “compassion.” It’s a word that refers to the intestines, or bowels. It’s that feeling that comes from the deepest part of who you since, in those days, the bowels were thought to be the seat of love and pity; a “gut feeling,” so to speak.

So, the Samaritan saw the same pitiful man lying in agony beside the road, but his heart couldn’t let him pass by without helping. And that’s the way compassion should affect us. It stirs us; troubles us; keeps us awake at night until we do something. And when the Samaritan looked at that suffering man lying half-dead on the side of the road, something happened in his gut; something made it impossible for him to simply walk away and do nothing. He didn’t decide to help this guy on the basis of how worthy he was. (Remember, this is a Samaritan helping a Jewish casualty) He helped him because of how needy he was.

Frankly, there’s no logical reason why the Samaritan should have rearranged his plans or spent his money to help the enemy. Of all the people who passed the injured man, the Samaritan had the least reason to help. He was despised by society, and a good deed wouldn’t do anything to change his social status. He helped because the victim needed assistance. But not only was the Samaritan’s compassion based upon the need, rather than the worth, of the victim, it caused the Samaritan to feel something so deeply that it had to be expressed in action. He didn’t pass by on the other side feeling all compassionate and then say “Godspeed!” He moved toward the injured man instead, and acted in relation to his need.

You see, compassion is not something that just magically happens. It takes effort. But only by moving toward people can we express compassion. Frankly, expressing compassion can be inconvenient. And don’t forget: had the victim been conscious and aware of who was helping him, he would have despised the help and, had the sandal been on the other foot, wouldn’t have returned the favor. But Jesus, in just six simple verbs, details the Samaritan’s compassion-in-action: (1) he went to him; (2) he gave him first aid; (3) he bandaged his wounds; (4) he lifted him on his donkey; (5) he led him to an inn; and (6) he took care of him. In every one of these acts he demonstrated compassion by responding in a practical, timely and unselfish way. In fact, putting the injured man on his own donkey meant that the Samaritan had to walk to the inn – uphill!

It’s also important to note that the Samaritan took care of the injured man. Let’s face it, we can’t help everywhere, and we can’t help everyone. But we can help someone, somewhere by providing physical and/or spiritual aid to a hurting soul. We can’t do it all, but we can do our all for some. And you’ve got to give it to this Samaritan guy. He really went the extra mile! He took this man to an inn and saw to it that the innkeeper would look out for the recovering victim during his absence. He also promised that he would return and reimburse the innkeeper for any additional expense that he incurred while caring for the guy. And, to top it all off, he left two days’ wages to take care of the man’s needs, and didn’t put a limit on how much he would be willing to spend to see the wounded man healed. There’s nothing more the Samaritan could have done to show his compassion.

At the conclusion of the story, Jesus asks the lawyer one last question: “What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man…?”  The lawyer almost chokes on his reply. In fact, he can’t even bring himself to say the word, “Samaritan,” so he responds by saying, “(t)he one who treated him kindly.” (Yeah, “that guy”) Then, for the second time, Jesus tells the lawyer to "Go and do the same.” Why does Jesus say that? Because Jesus knows that that slick lawyer won’t turn to him for salvation until he turns from his dependence on “doing” something to earn it.

Isn’t it funny how the initial question asked by the lawyer, “How would you define ‘neighbor’?” became, “What kind of neighbor am I?” And perhaps we can identify with the lawyer’s first question, “What must I do to get to heaven?” The answer has been, and remains, the same: stop trying to inherit eternal life by doing something. Instead, believe in Jesus and trust that he paid the penalty for our sins. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get over ourselves because it’s not about us. It’s about Jesus and what He did for us.

Compassion is grace with a face. It’s the misery that we make our own that we can comfort; the want we make our own that we can satisfy. It’s the sin we make our own from which we can save another; and the gauge by which we can measure the sincerity of our faith.

Grace,

Randy

Significant

Significant

            As he was speaking, the teachers of religious law and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in the act of adultery. They put her in front of the crowd.

“Teacher,” they said to Jesus, “this woman was caught in the act of adultery. The law of Moses says to stone her. What do you say?”

They were trying to trap him into saying something they could use against him, but Jesus stooped down and wrote in the dust with his finger. They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!” Then he stooped down again and wrote in the dust.

When the accusers heard this, they slipped away one by one, beginning with the oldest, until only Jesus was left in the middle of the crowd with the woman. Then Jesus stood up again and said to the woman, “Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?”

“No, Lord,” she said.

And Jesus said, “Neither do I. Go and sin no more.” 

(John 8:3-11; NLT)

“You don’t matter!” It rings in our ears and rolls around in our heads like thunder. Oh, people may not say it exactly that way, but that’s what they mean, don’t they? For instance, Rogaine commercials tell me that more hair makes me studly. And, beer commercials tell me that I’ll really matter if I drink Bud, or Coors, or Michelob. In other words, we can’t be fat and matter. We can’t be poor and matter. We can’t be old and matter. We can’t drive clunkers and matter. We can’t be unmarried and matter. We can’t make minimum wage and matter. We can’t like the Raiders and matter … well, they may have a point there. Sorry.

But you get the point, don’t you? You and I simply don’t matter. We’re all an interruption in the great, cosmic scheme of life; an insignificant piece of flotsam in a sea of 7,029,202,219 people. (Yep, that’s 7.03 billion people, give or take a few hundred thousand) But we seem to have this natural, inborn need to want to matter, to want to be an important person, to be valuable, and to be valued by someone else. We want someone to care.

So, we fear not mattering. We fear not leaving our mark, or even making a dent. It’s like the fear of not mattering is a bully who takes us down a path we don’t want to take to be someone we don’t want to become. But if we chase after what the world says is important, or what matters, we’ll neither find it nor achieve it. Never. In the end, we’ll spend our whole life chasing a mirage. Kind of like chasing a rainbow – it always seems to be just beyond our reach.

Now, the woman in our text is the perfect picture of someone who didn’t matter. She had nothing. She was caught in the act. She was scum; she was trash; she was a tramp. The only value she had was as a pawn to trick Jesus. The powers that be, you know, the ones that “really mattered,” deemed her unworthy and worthless. In fact, their attitude was, “Let’s just kill her and get her out of the way.” Kinda like how you’d talk about taking the trash out to the curb. And maybe that’s the message you’ve heard. Maybe your entire life.

So, you found someone else that made you feel like you mattered, until they dumped you. And then you got married and really felt like you mattered, until you had kids. And then you won the lottery and thought, “Wow, I really matter now,” until you find out that your “mattering” is a function of how much money you’re willing to give away. It’s kind of like the prodigal son who found out that he mattered so long as he had enough money to buy the next round of drinks. Once the money was gone, so were his “friends.”

What I don’t like about John’s story is that these guys set up a sting operation (they caught her “in the act,” remember?), dragged her from the crime scene, made her stand in a public place before a group of religious do-gooders, announced her sin to the world, and then decided on her punishment. And where’s the guy, anyway? (Frankly, I think he was one of them, or maybe a paid informant) Anyway, they do this right in front of Jesus, the very Son of God! It was like the whole world was shouting, “You don’t matter, and we should know because we matter!” But, isn’t it bad enough to feel worthless without having to be publicly humiliated?

This woman so not mattered that we don’t even know her name, just that they caught “this woman” in the act of adultery. She was worthless. She was disposable. She was a big zero. No one stood with her, not even her mother. No one. She just didn’t matter. Or, did she?

“What do you say,” Jesus? Excuse me? What does Jesus say? Yeah, what is he going to say about this tramp? (Now this is going to get really personal) Not what the law says. Not what the culture says. But, “What do you say?” And what does Jesus say about this troubled woman? Wham! The question of if this woman mattered has now been placed squarely in Jesus’ lap.

So, what does Jesus say? Well, Jesus says that we matter because he made us and he loves us. It’s Jesus that makes us matter. Not because we’re so special, but because Jesus loves us. His love is what makes us special. The God of this universe sent his son to die for us. So, why can’t we see that? Is it just too hard for us to believe? But if that’s true, who’s to blame here? God, or a life-long cultural beat-down? What Jesus saw was that this woman mattered because she was God’s workmanship. It didn’t matter what label her culture put on her, or what label our culture puts on us. What matters is the label God himself put on her, and puts on us. He calls her his masterpiece, his workmanship, the work of his hand. (Ephesians 2:10)

Now, there’s no doubt that she’d totally messed up what she was created to do. She wasn’t living anywhere near God’s will. God had taken the time to write an entire script for her life, including how her life would matter, and he’d given her all of the unique gifts and talents that she needed to fulfill the purpose for which she’d been created. But she was nowhere near living close to that plan. Actually, she wasn’t in the neighborhood. Frankly, she wasn’t even in the same zip code. She had substituted her own plan, and it was a mess.

But when Jesus looked at her, this person who didn’t matter to anyone, this person who no one stood beside, he saw past her clothing and the makeup, the smell, the hair, the sin, the past, and Jesus gave her value. He made her matter because he loved her. Still not convinced?

“For you formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are your works, and that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them.” (Psalm 139:13-16)

There it is, straight out: God made you. So, look in the mirror and tell me what you see. Do you think God made a mistake? If so, God can’t be God, can he? Not if he’s made a mistake, he can’t. And if he’s made a mistake, what other mistakes has he made? And who’d ever want to worship that kind of god, anyway? May as well worship yourself. (Did he just say that?) But, if God is perfect (Mark 10:18), then he makes no mistakes. And if he can’t make a mistake, then you were created intentionally. You were planned. You were designed. You were thought out. You were purposed. You were anticipated. Why? Because you matter.

OK, but isn’t that just a tad bit arrogant? No, not really. It’s what the Bible says. Look, we have to get over ourselves and come to grips with the fact that there is One who loves us more than we love ourselves. Stated differently, why should we hate ourselves when we’re loved by God so perfectly? Why should we condemn ourselves when we’re forgiven and accepted so completely? We’ve been invited into his Kingdom, and he made an unbelievable sacrifice to get us there, starting with the death of his son, Jesus, on the cross. So, if he made such a huge effort to get us, why should we wonder if we have value?

God in his love chose you. He came after you. This wasn’t planned by you, deserved by you, or even earned by you. God reached down and took hold of your heart and relentlessly drew you to himself because you matter. He doesn’t treat you like a loser, or a sinner, or an employee, or a slave, or a mistake, or an embarrassment, or a worm, or an irritation, or a nuisance, or a problem. You’re his child.

Tell me, what did the woman do to earn what Jesus did for her, hmmm?  Right.  Nothing. She just stood there in her shame and answered Jesus’ question. In fact, she did nothing at all. (And that, by the way, is called grace) And nearly every day of our lives this same scenario is being played out. In fact, it just may happen to you today, maybe even at lunch let’s say. Someone is going to throw a person in front of you and talk about their sins and their failings, trying to diminish them, and they will ask the same question of you that they asked of Jesus, “What do you say?” So, what will you say?

In the elementary school I attended, the illustrious Esther Lindstrom Elementary School, there was a bully. His name was Tommy, and I remember he wore the kind of leather jacket that most bullies wear. You know the one, don’t you? (Think, The Fonz from Happy Days) His face had been horribly scarred by an unfortunate accident, and he carried a huge chip on his shoulder. Tommy was an intimidator, and he terrified the rest of us kids. I remember meeting him in the hallway sometimes and being afraid. (Truth be told, Tommy and I eventually got into a fight just outside school one day. I can’t remember who or what started it, but it was pretty much a draw. Funny, after that fight, Tommy and I became pretty good friends)

And there’s a bully that prowls around our lives, and his name is F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real) And like every bully, F.E.A.R. exaggerates its power. It shouts threats and warnings, and keeps us on edge. It makes us watch our every move. And so the bully yells at us again, “Hey, punk. You don’t matter!”

The difference is, this time, we don’t have to face the bully alone. This time, we’ve got Jesus, and who wants to mess around with that guy?

Grace,

Randy

Busy

Busy

            “Now it happened as they went that He entered a certain village; and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at Jesus’ feet and heard His word. But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she approached Him and said, ‘Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me.’ And Jesus answered and said to her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.’” (Luke 10:38-42 NKJ)

“Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.” That line was originally used in the 70's hit TV show, The Brady Bunch. The character, Jan, was complaining that Marcia, her older sister, was getting all the attention at a party and got so upset that she whined, "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!"

Well, the Martha in our story is just a little steamed. Actually, she’s really ticked. And who could blame here? Sure, she’d been the one who’d invited the company over, but it wasn’t just her house. I mean, her sister could do a little something to help out, don’t you think? Instead, when Jesus arrived, she just sat there staring up at the guest as if it were the first time she’d ever seen the man. Truth is they’d practically grown up together.

And so Martha walked a little louder. Actually, it was pretty much close to stomping; she banged the pots a little more than necessary. Actually, a lot more than necessary; and she sighed a lot, and not little sighs either. These were full-blown asthmatic sighs that were not to be missed! For all of Martha’s drama, however, it was all seemingly overlooked as the guest continued to teach and Martha’s sister, Mary, sat mesmerized, hanging on his every word.

Mary and Martha were the sisters of Jesus’ good friend, Lazarus. And it appears from different gospel accounts that Jesus spent a fair amount of time at their home. On this particular occasion, Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem and Martha had invited him to come and stay with her family. When Jesus arrived, he apparently sat down and began to speak. Now, we don’t know if he was teaching, or if he was telling them about his trip, or just shootin’ the breeze. But whatever it was, Mary was soon mesmerized by his words, and sat at his feet savoring every one.

But it’d been Martha who’d invited Jesus into her home, and she was bound and determined that everything was going to be perfect. And so she began to fuss around, cleaning up and getting dinner ready. At first, it wasn’t too bad, but the longer she worked the more she began to resent the fact that her sister was just sitting there, doing nothing.

Finally, Martha couldn’t stand it any longer and blurted out something along the lines of, “Excuse me, but doesn’t anybody think that this might be just a tiny bit unfair: me playing Cinderella, while her highness here sits on her duff and does nothing?” Jesus responded by saying, essentially, “Martha, quit sweating the small stuff – and it’s all small stuff. Right now, Mary’s discovered what’s really important, and I’m not going to curb her enthusiasm.”

I wonder what Martha’s response was to that? It’s not recorded, but somehow I don’t think she said, “Oh, I’m soooo sorry Lord, my bad.” It was probably The Death Glare directed right at Mary: a calm, murderous look often coupled with a menacing posture, and always served with a deathly silence. The Death Glare is hard to pull off, but when it’s done right it can convey a depth of anger and potential violence that’s kinda scary.

So there we have it. Martha: the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

Now, the good is what made Martha, well ... Martha! “As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem, they came to a village where a woman named Martha welcomed them into her home.” As believers, the Spirit has blessed us with certain spiritual gifts: gifts that are given to each believer for the building up of the Kingdom. Gifts like prophecy, teaching and leadership, to name a few. But right smack-dab in the middle of the listing of all these spiritual gifts (Romans 12:6-8) is the gift of hospitality, or entertaining. A very valid and important gift.

Martha was aware of her gift, and she was willing to put it to use. She was one of those people whose home’s always open. But as believers, one of the most frustrating things in life is trying to do things for which we are not gifted – kind of like trying to put a square peg into a round hole. And for the church to function at its optimum, each believer has to be exercising his or her spiritual gifts. Paul uses the analogy of the body, time and time again, to describe the church. And for a body to operate the way it was designed, each element has to do the work it was designed to do. You know, the nose smells; the eyes see; the ears hear; the gallbladder … ugh, etc.

That’s the way it’s supposed to work. However, if it doesn’t, then another has to pick up the slack. For instance, the blind may have a heightened sense of hearing or smell to help offset their inability to see. Here, Martha knew her spiritual gift and was willing to put it to work. But like everything in life, balance can sometimes be hard to achieve, and it’s while Martha is exercising her spiritual gift that she goes from “The Good” Martha to “The Bad” Martha.

“Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord’s feet, listening to what he taught. But Martha was worrying over the big dinner she was preparing.” Martha had at least an elementary grasp of who Jesus was because she called him “Lord,” and identified him as being a teacher, or a Rabbi. And we don’t have to look too far through the gospels to discover that Martha and her siblings were friends of Jesus.

But sometimes I wonder why she invited him to their house in the first place. Was it just to eat, or had she invited him to come over so she could enjoy his company and hear what he had to say? I’d guess it was the latter. I mean, if she just wanted to provide Jesus with a meal, she could’ve simply given him some money and sent him to the local McDonalds drive-through on his way to Jerusalem. But as so often happens, in an attempt to be the best hostess she can be, to provide the cleanest possible house, and to make the best meal she could, Martha neglected the very reason why she was doing it.

Have you ever done that? Have you ever invited company over and by the time the evening’s gone, the dishes are done and the kitchen’s cleaned up, you realize that you didn’t get to spend any time with your guests? Martha was so caught up in serving Jesus that she didn’t take the time to know Jesus. And this isn’t a kitchen phenomenon. We can take course after course, read book after book, go to seminar after seminar, or attend church service after church service and never take the time to actually sit at Jesus’ feet and build a relationship. Truthfully, Jesus would probably have been just as happy with a PB&J and Martha’s company than the fancy meal she was so busy prepping.

What is it that distracts you from getting to know Jesus better? What’s keeping you from having the relationship with Jesus that you would really like to have? What would it take for you to slow down and sit at His feet and listen to what He has to say?

But the “bad” wasn’t bad enough.

It doesn’t take long before Martha, the “hostess with the mostess,” notices that she’s doing all the work – which is what Martha likely wanted, but on her own terms. You know, there’s a big difference between doing everything after someone has offered to help and you’ve turned them down, versus doing everything when nobody even bothered to offer. So, it appears that Mary hadn’t even offered, preferring to plop down at Jesus’ feet and listen to what he had to say. Martha, for her part, of course, was not the least bit impressed.

But maybe that’s not altogether true. Look at Luke 10:39, again. “And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word.” Did you catch that? “Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet.” In other words, in addition to sitting at Jesus’ feet, Mary had done, or was doing, something else. Like what? Like maybe helping Martha in the kitchen before Jesus got there! In other words, maybe Mary had been helping earlier and, now that the guest had arrived, she took the time to be with Jesus in addition to her other responsibilities. Martha, on the other hand, tended to her responsibilities and didn’t make time for Jesus because the meal was just so much more important!

Regardless, this is where things get “Ugly.” “She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn’t it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.” Now, if you’ll just close your eyes, you can almost picture her standing there, a towel over one shoulder, a smudge of flour on her nose, her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. Fast. She’s not a happy camper.

But a couple of warnings here. First, Martha was insisting that Mary share her spiritual gift. I mean after all, if she (Martha) had the gift of hospitality, then everyone should have the gift of hospitality. But that isn’t the way it works. How often do we get caught up thinking that way. Especially with gifts like mercy, or prayer. We say, “If I can pray for four hours then everyone ought to be able to pray for four hours.” Or, “There’s nothing I love more than making hospital calls, and everyone should feel that way.”

Second, Martha allowed herself to be consumed by bitterness. You will never, ever be held responsible for another believer’s behavior, but you will always be responsible for your own. You see, Martha wasn’t responsible for what Mary was or wasn’t doing. But when Martha allowed envy to rear its head, she became responsible for her envious nature. I don’t think it was so much that Martha wished that Mary would do what she was doing. I think it was more like Martha was envious of what Mary was doing. However, instead of asking herself, “Why am I not doing that?” she found it easier to attack Mary, not for what she was doing (I mean, how can you condemn a person for listening to Jesus?) but, instead, for what she wasn’t doing.

But even that wasn’t the real issue. And Jesus recognized it. Listen to what he says: “But the Lord said to her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.’”

What was the one thing that Mary had discovered that Martha hadn’t? I don’t know, it doesn’t tell us. But I have the sneaking suspicion that it may have had something to do with Jesus’ words recorded in Matthew 6:33: “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.”

So, are you busy about Jesus, or just busy?

Grace,

Randy