The house was bustling with the after-lunch clean up. People bumped into each other and laughed as they cleared the table. Dishes were put in the sink, each clank indicating a chime of completion. Someone offered to take the trash out. Soon the sound of chairs sliding across the wooden floor could be heard as the dining room was being rearranged.

Martha smiled. This is what she was made for. She loved the hustle and bustle of having people in her home. Hosting a crowd was not overwhelming to her; she thrived on it. To her, a to-do list was a “prepare to love” list, readying her to extend hospitality and create a safe environment for ministry. She gladly channeled her administrative skills and released her strong, warm personality for days like today.

“We’re about to get started,” said Mary as she walked into the kitchen, almost waltzing from the beauty of the day. She surprised her sister with a dancing hug while exclaiming, “This is the best day ever!” Martha laughed, agreed and playfully pulled out of the embrace.

Their two personalities were on full display today. Mary was whimsical, known for feeling deeply and pursuing life passionately. She found beauty in small things and loved to share the sweetness of the moment with whoever passed by. She was conscientious and gentle, often brightening the room with her laugh and encouragement. Martha was the yin to Mary’s yang. They were best friends in the way that only sisters can be, complementing and accommodating each other perfectly. Together, they were an unstoppable team of strength, beauty, love and good works.

The buzz of conversation died down in the living room. “Oh! He must be starting!” said Mary as her eyes lit up. All the chairs and couches were filled with travelers and guests. Curious neighbors had invited themselves over and were now filling empty spaces along the walls. Mary gracefully picked her way through the crowd, gaze fixed on what seemed to her the best spot in the room. A man offered her his seat, but she politely declined. She wanted to be closer.

Jesus was there, in the white armchair. It had been moved to the corner between the fireplace and the window so that everyone in the room could see him as he spoke. As Jesus began, the group instinctively listened. Mary sat down on the floor at his feet like a child, cross-legged and eager.

Martha smiled at her sister’s boldness and turned back to the stack of dishes still in the sink. She quietly finished cleaning the kitchen, listening to the words of life coming from Jesus. This is what her dry, parched soul needed! Martha turned towards the doorway, looking at the man they just met who was now sitting in her living room. She remembered the immediate care and friendship in his eyes. He saw her for who she was – single, middle-class, capable, bossy and desperate for deep belonging. He smiled and something in her soul resonated. Being near to him, she felt safe. That morning Martha invited this rag-tag team of guys over for lunch and now a peace filled her home, obviously resonating from Jesus himself. She had been waiting her whole life for God to bring Himself near, and this was that day.

She wiped one unbidden tear from her eye and choked back the rest. Now was not the time for a public display of emotion. Mary, however, was not having such hesitations. Tears freely streamed down her cheeks as the Savior spoke of the Father’s love and kindness. Martha loved this tenderness in her sister, but she valued service over sentimentality. She poured cups of coffee and began taking them to her guests. Mary did not want any coffee, but accepted the tissues that Martha discreetly handed her with a knowing smile.

The teaching went on all afternoon. Questions and answers mixed in with historic prophecies and a host of real life applications. Martha started looking at the clock, noticing that dinnertime was fast approaching. Feeling antsy, she got up to make another pot of coffee. How much longer would this go? What will I feed all these people? Mary caught her eye and motioned for her to sit down, but Martha was now beyond the point of being still.

Trying her best to be quiet, Martha stayed in the kitchen planning the menu, checking her supplies and guessing how long Jesus would talk. Her gift to the Lord was to serve him, and so she must. She turned on the oven and put the water on to boil. The dinner to-do list piled up mentally and Martha looked for someone to help her prepare the meal. Mary, being the obvious choice, was still sitting smack in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on Jesus. There was no subtle way to get her attention. Martha looked around the room. No one seemed to notice her frustration growing into panic.

Martha took a deep breath. “Okay, you can do this,” she thought to herself. “If no one else will help, I will serve the Lord by myself.” She tried to listen to the teaching as she worked, but it became hard as her hands got busier and her mind got more distracted. Meat. Bread. Vegetables. Condiments. Drinks. Paper products. Martha could no longer hear the conversation about love, peace and kingdom living. She was in the zone, focused and capable, serving the Lord his dinner. Her service had an agenda and that agenda had expectations. She must not fail.

Somewhere amidst the preparations, the teaching stopped. Martha didn’t even notice until a guy named Peter stuck his head into the kitchen to say that dinner smelled great. Martha barely said, “thank you” before he was gone outside with the other guys. She could hear their laughter through the open kitchen window, a sweet sound of camaraderie and joy. The fresh air was good for them, Martha knew, but couldn’t at least one of them asked to help with dinner preparations? And where was Mary? Didn’t she agree to help with this whole event? Why does it always turn out this way? Why am I always the one sacrificing? Martha began to mutter to herself as she perfected her seasonings and sauces.

There were still two voices talking in the living room. Martha stopped moving long enough to hear her sister pouring out her heart to Jesus, looking to him for answers and understanding. She loved Mary but was this really the time? Hadn’t she been sitting at his feet all afternoon? Didn’t she know that there was important work that had to be done right now?

The more Martha built her case in her mind, the less it became about the dinner. This was about timing, duty, responsibility, service and excellence after all. There is an agenda! There are expectations! Martha stood on her moral high ground and looked down at her sister, the attitude of joyful service long abandoned to the crusade of righteous indignation. And in a flash of convinced rightness, Martha dried her hands on her apron and walked decidedly towards Jesus and Mary.

“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone?” said Martha confidently. “Tell her to help me.”

Jesus looked up and locked eyes with Martha. It was that same look from before, the look that understood her soul. She stopped a few feet from his chair. All she could hear was the clock ticking and her heart beating. She looked at her feet, awkwardly waiting for an answer.

Mary’s face fell, realizing the trouble she caused her sister and also the uncomfortable situation they now found themselves. Surely Jesus would chastise her for being unhelpful. She never meant to hurt or abandon Martha. She simply got lost in the wonder of her newfound freedom. Jesus was everything to her now, and she lost track of all the other distractions and demands of the world.

Martha’s words still rang in the air with a harsh tone of accusation, both towards the Lord and towards Mary. But instead of answering Martha’s question, Jesus answered Martha’s soul.

“Martha,” he said gently. She looked up. “Martha,” he said again. “You are worried and distracted by much serving.”

She nodded.

“But only one thing is necessary,” he continued. “Mary has chosen the best thing, which will not be taken away from her.”

A tear slipped down Martha’s cheek, one that she did not try to wipe away. She felt the pang of conviction that both pained and freed her. In her fervor for service, she had let it control her. In all honesty, sometimes it was her escape from reality, her excuse from being vulnerable. She had gifts of great worth for good purposes, but she had let the gifts outdo the Giver. Her moment of crisis revealed her identity was in the service, not in the One she served.

“Mary… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Martha twisted her hands as Mary’s tear-filled eyes spoke forgiveness and love. Martha then looked into the eyes of Jesus. There was no condemnation, no punishment. Just an unspoken invitation to rest and to stop trying to earn his favor through her hard work. A soul-weary Martha smiled and let another tear escape.

There was no need for further words between them. Mary’s eyes gleamed as she quickly stood up and waltzed into the kitchen to finish the dinner. Martha simply sat down at the feet of Jesus and was in no hurry to get up.