Week 25: The Trouble with Good Things

A Year in the Life of Jesus | Luke 10:38–42

Sometimes the stories we tell about people aren't necessarily false. They're just terribly incomplete. We remember one moment, one characteristic, or one failure, and allow it to define the whole person. I wonder if we've done something similar with Martha.

For generations, Martha has been remembered as the anxious, uptight sister who was too busy serving Jesus to actually spend time with him. Mary was the spiritually mature one, sitting attentively at Jesus' feet, while Martha was distracted by all the preparations. But the Gospels give us a much richer picture of Martha. She's a woman of initiative, hospitality, courage, and remarkable faith. When her brother Lazarus dies, she's the one who goes out to meet Jesus and boldly confesses, “I believe you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who comes into the world” (John 11:27).

Martha isn't the villain of this story. She loves Jesus. And so does Mary. They simply express that love differently.

In Luke 10, Martha welcomes Jesus into her home and begins serving him. Her hospitality is a beautiful thing. But somewhere along the way, something changes. Luke tells us that Martha becomes distracted by her many tasks. Interestingly, the word translated tasks is diakonia, a word associated with service and ministry. Martha isn't distracted by something immoral or obviously destructive. She's distracted by something good. She's serving Jesus!

And isn't that remarkably familiar?

Our lives are filled with good things. Work, family, responsibilities, relationships, service, ministry, and the ordinary demands of everyday life. None of these things are inherently wrong. Yet it's possible to become so consumed by the thousand good things competing for our attention that we lose sight of what matters most.

That's what begins happening to Martha. Her hospitality becomes accompanied by resentment toward her sister. Eventually, her frustration spills over into an accusation against Jesus: “Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to serve alone?” (Luke 10:40).

She's doing something good, but it's producing something unhealthy within her.

Jesus responds with remarkable tenderness: “Martha, Martha.” The repetition of her name communicates the deeply personal nature of his correction. He isn't dismissing her hospitality or suggesting that serving others doesn't matter. He's drawing her attention to the worry and distraction that have overtaken her. Mary has chosen to sit at his feet and listen, and Jesus refuses to take that away from her.

What's especially beautiful is where Luke places this story. Immediately before it, Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan, calling his followers toward costly, active love for their neighbors. Earlier in the chapter, he sends his disciples into the world on mission. And immediately afterward, he teaches them to pray.

Luke isn't presenting contemplation and service as competing ways of following Jesus. Both belong to the life of a disciple.

We don't need less love, less hospitality, or less service. The world desperately needs people who embody the generous, sacrificial love of Jesus. But activity disconnected from communion with Jesus eventually becomes spiritually depleted. We can become so occupied with working for Jesus that we neglect receiving from Jesus.

Mary isn't demonstrating an alternative to Martha's service. She's demonstrating something essential to sustaining it.

The Good Samaritan shows us what love does. Mary shows us where the life that sustains such love is found.

Spiritual formation isn't sitting at Jesus' feet instead of loving our neighbors. It is sitting at Jesus' feet so that we can love our neighbors.