“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed – or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:41 NIV)
Yesterday, I coordinated a spaghetti fundraiser for camp funds. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, I’ve hosted dozens of church dinners in the past two decades. Feeding people is a huge part of my DNA in ministry. But for whatever reason, this particular lunch had me unnerved. New church, new-to-me kitchen, never having witnessed another fundraiser lunch in this space to see how they do it. I don’t know, I was worked up. I couldn’t sleep on Saturday night and then when the morning of the event came, I was near-panicked; what if people didn’t bring what they’d signed up to bring? What if we ran out of food? What if the whole thing was a giant flop?
I was full-on in this frenzy of anxiety when I stepped in to pre-service prayer yesterday morning. Walking into the room with prayer in progress was like walking into a wall of petitions; I was wholly enveloped in the words of the saints going up. I stood in the corner, a couple minutes late to the party but still wanting to partake.
I struggled to enter in. My mind was still racing over the casserole that hadn’t yet made an appearance. We would surely run short without that 9×11 inches of pasta. Perhaps I could run quick to HEB to make up the difference?
That’s when I heard His voice. Clearly. Patiently. Persistently.
“Anna, Anna, you are worried about many things
but right now only one thing matters.”
Oh, it was hard, to push aside the thoughts of the commitment to come and just settle into His presence. But He is so persuasive.
“Only one thing matters. Sit with Me now.
Love Me in these next few moments.”
I obeyed. I sat down on the floor of that prayer room and just soaked in His presence for a few precious minutes as the collective intercession swelled and ebbed. By the time we finished and headed into the sanctuary, my heart had found it’s normal rhythm again. I figured God had multiplied loaves and fishes before; how much harder is a pasta dish?
We had planned to feed eighty, but ninety people showed up. We scraped the last little bit of pasta out on the final plate. The bread held out just long enough to feed our hungry flock and our student helpers. Worrying about it hadn’t made the food go any farther; but sitting in the presence of Jesus put my heart in the right place to serve His people.
In my quiet time this morning, I found Mary again. After the meal with Martha, after, even, the resurrection of her brother, Lazarus. It’s the week before Jesus’ last Passover and Mary had prepared a special gift. It turns out, when we learn to sit at Jesus’ feet, we begin to truly worship.
“Then Mary took about a pint of nard, an expensive perfume, she poured it on Jesus feet and wiped His feet with her hair. And the entire house was filled with the fragrance of her perfume.” (John 12:3 NIV)
It seems that Mary had anointed Jesus once before. John 11:2 cites Mary as the one who anointed Him with oil, as if this act had already been done. But here is again in John 12. Bible scholars trend toward believing that there had been at least two anointings of Jesus: one at the beginning of His earthly ministry and another in the last week of His ministry.
I’m intrigued by Mary: her deep humility and extravagant gratitude hold high contrast to my own narrative. I tend toward pride and complaint. Mary poured herself at Jesus feet without regard for self-image or self-reliance. She was generous to Jesus with whatever she had: holding no part of her time or attention or resource or reputation back from her Savior.
The second thing I see is how her worship altered the atmosphere. The fragrance of her love for Jesus filled the room. Only the unbeliever was obstinate; and even he, Judas, was moved to a point of impassioned diatribe.
“Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year or mores wages. He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief’ as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.” (John 12:5-6 NIV)
Judas didn’t get a chance to divert the flow of this generous worship. He was clearly appalled that he hadn’t the opportunity to let this gift slip through his sticky fingers.
True worship cannot be directed, diverted or disrupted by others. There is a soul to soul connection that cannot be interrupted. Jesus knew it. Mary reveled in it. Judas was in the room, but even he, the thief, could not steal from what was passing between Jesus and Mary.
Mary had long ago learned to slow down when Jesus was in the room. She gave Him the full weight of her attention and let every lesser dim. Authentic worship flowed freely.
I wonder, can we sit down today and be a Mary?
Isn’t that what Lent is all about? Aren’t these six weeks set aside to recognize the limitations of our mortality and invite Jesus in? We can receive Him into our hurried, bothered selves. We can learn to sit at His feet in defiance of the world attempting to whir along without Him. And if we do, don’t we truly worship in those moments, the ones where we recognize Him as He truly is?
Lord, help us slow when we see that You are in the room. Give us the courage to bring our best gifts and lay them at your feet. Grow humility and gratitude in our hearts; we want to worship You freely, repeatedly, without fear or man or lack. Change the atmosphere as we prioritize this love exchange above every other entanglement.