“She’s the Martha; I’m the Mary.”
I couldn’t help but overhear my sister-in-law’s voice as I was cleaning my mother-in-law’s kitchen toward the end of our gathering. While the rest of the family was still seated around tables, chatting and playing games together, I scrubbed dishes and picked up discarded plates.
Several years ago, that statement would have made me bristle. I may have had thoughts of, “Well, if you think I’m Martha, that’s just because you are lazy” or “At least someone is taking care of things” or “Why does Martha always get a bad rap?” Or even, “Why can’t I be more like Mary?”
But this time, I caught myself smiling at the remark and simply continued working. Because I knew that my motives were pure as I went about my tasks. I was washing dishes to help lighten the load of my mother-in-law, who so graciously allowed 50+ people to trample into her home. She welcomed this entourage of children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and friends, and strangers. Even though they come with a trail of mud and crumbs and noise in their wake.
I smiled because being referred to as a Martha no longer bothers me (at least not much). Because I know the truth of who I am . . . and I’m finally coming to terms with it.
I realize it’s easy for others to see the biblical “Martha” in me. For complete details, you can refer to Luke 10:38-42. In short, Martha was the sister bustling about the kitchen, preparing food for Jesus and His company of rambling disciples. In contrast, her sister Mary quietly sat near Jesus, soaking up His presence. In her busyness, Martha became exasperated with her sister, who spurned aiding in exchange for hanging out with the Savior. Martha was lovingly chastised by Jesus for getting so caught up in serving that she forgot the most important thing — being aware of Jesus’ presence.
I admit that Martha tendencies come naturally, as I serve and clean and organize, striving to bring a semblance of order to the chaos. Being busy is easy for me; it’s what I do. It’s difficult for me to walk by a stack of dirty dishes without cringing. Sometimes I envy those who can rise in the morning and not sigh in frustration at the crumpled blankets left on furniture from the previous night. Sometimes I can become bitter toward people who are seemingly unaffected by disorder or dirt. I wince at those who can leave tasks undone for more than a few moments without being bothered by the mess. Sometimes my Martha bent can quelch the Mary spirit in me that desires a bit of connection and rest when there is an unending list of chores to be completed.
But other times, and thankfully more frequently as the years pass, Mary shows up alongside Martha in the form of contemplative prayers. They rise to the surface while I’m washing dishes or folding laundry or preparing meals, or completing any number of errands throughout my day.
While the productivity of my Martha predisposition seems apparent to anyone who observes my habits, I doubt Mary ever makes herself so visibly known. Not once can I remember anyone attempting to tag me with the Mary moniker — aside from my mother — who sometimes mistakenly called me by my sister’s given name. But she referred to me by my other siblings’ names, too — including my brothers — so there’s that. In general, if I’ve ever been dubbed “Mary,” it has most likely stemmed from a case of mistaken identity.
I’m not prone to sit idle or linger long without agenda. In truth, resting too much can make me restless. However, I can spend hours talking one-on-one with a friend or read several chapters of a captivating book in one sitting. It’s just that, mostly, people see me in motion because movement is my norm. And while it used to bother me that Mary sometimes appears hidden, I’ve come to terms with her presence in me, even when others can’t see her there. Especially when her quiet demeanor seems overshadowed by her sister’s blatant existence.
Outwardly, I may always bear a striking likeness to my biblical doppelgänger Martha. But, inwardly, I pray a bit of Mary is noticed, at least by my Savior. Even if she remains invisible to others.
Whether I’m serving or sitting, I hope the desire to be in the presence of Jesus is at the center of my world.
Whether I’m rushing or resting, I pray my thoughts are consumed by His.
I confess, the force pulling me toward busyness and activity is fierce, but the force tugging me toward Jesus is stronger still. May I bend toward Spirit-breath, no matter the tasks before me, as I serve with open hands and worship Him with an even wider open heart.
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FOR REFLECTION
What about you? Does the “Mary” in you feel thwarted by predominant “Martha” traits?
Do you struggle to bring a healthy balance between work and rest in your life? What would that look like for you?
What specific steps can you take toward creating a quiet place, if only in your heart, for some time spent with Jesus today?