The Other Side of Martha

Luke 10:38-42

I often think about Martha. 

I identify with her more than I expect, I think. She gets a bad rap that I don't think she deserves. If I was overwhelmed with household tasks and my siblings were doing nothing to help, I'd be angry too. So why did she get chastised for doing what was expected of her?

I mean, she did get chastised, didn't she? ....didn't she?

Perhaps It's speculation. However I'm convinced that many of us mistake Martha for consuming herself in busy-ness when I wonder if, in fact, she might have been consumed by perfectionism. Like so many others, perfectionists are often misinterpreted. People see the word itself and think it has everything to do with pride. It doesn't. I would know. Perfectionism is a striving of its own design. We don't seek to feel accomplished. We seek to be adequate. We seek to avoid shame. We seek to be worth somebody's time.

Insecurity is such a quiet emotion that shouts louder than anticipated. Perfectionists live their lives inside of a soul that is constantly convinced they are never enough.

Cookies? It should have been creme brûlée. 

A quilt? It should have been a down comforter.

A home cooked meal? It should have been gourmet. Didn't you see the recipe on Pinterest?

We are goaded by questions that sharply prod us forward. Did it sound ok? Do I look ok? Has everyone had enough to eat? Am I being annoying without realizing it?  I tried, but maybe it wasn't what you wanted--should I do it again? Am I making you uncomfortable? Maybe you really hate it but you are just being polite, is that it?

They seem like shallow anxieties but in the grand scheme of things, they lead to a miserable psyche. One failure means one more confirmation that we are not what we want to be. We convey a squeaky clean personality because at all times...we just feel so small.

Perhaps this one issue could be something we could handle. After all, we can handle everytng else--no need to bother anyone, right? But then someone waltzes in and blows the whole thing to shambles. Here we are, trying to maintain the already delicate balances of ourselves. We've earned our niches and circles. But when someone enters the picture and achieves everyone's approval without lifting a finger. We get angry, yes. But more than all of this, beyond the frustration--we hurt. We grieve. We realize all of the toil was worthless. We are exactly as invisible as we feel. 

I say we, because I am quite possibly the chief of them all. The greatest of sinners.

I think Martha might have been here, known this demographic, fought the urge for a pristine lifestyle. Perhaps she has been shuffling in the background for the entire afternoon while Mary basks in the Lord's attention. And quite frankly: it sucks.

The thing is, in her own way, Martha finally reaches out. She asks for help. And while so many read her story and tsk at her actions, Jesus--as he always does--cuts straight to her heart. 

"Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things. Only one thing is needed..."

I wonder if He looked at her kindly. I wonder if she could sense the warmth of His concern. His eyes were on her, she was not forgotten, and He was beckoning her toward Himself. The only fullness she could know.

He so often invades my atmosphere and reminds me of His sufficiency, and just as often I have the audacity not to believe Him. But I am not alone. Martha was there. She knew the screams of worthlessness and the pinching fear of inadequacy. And when she couldn't take it anymore, He was more than ready to catch her.

"You worry about so much. Only one thing is needed. I Am enough, and so are you. I will not put you to shame, I will not find you lacking. You needn't worry about what you should do. I love you. You are mine. I have called you by name. I do not want what you think you need. I only want your heart. My grasp is secure, my plans are perfect, my affection is intimate, if only you would let Me close. I Am where strivings cease. In my love, You are so much more than adequate."

I struggle to know that I am enough. But I am enough. And so are you.