"Joy"

Do you remember the old “Peanuts” cartoon and movies? This time of year, a lot of people love to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas. At one point, when Charlie Brown is having difficulty getting into the Christmas spirit, Linus says, “Charlie Brown, you’re the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem.” If we’re honest with ourselves, sometimes we can feel like we’re having a Charlie Brown Christmas—spindly tree and all. Sometimes it even feels like we’re having a Charlie Brown life. Sometimes our religion reflects the same attitude as well.

Pastor Chris Layton tells the story of a young boy who visited his grandfather on the farm:

There was once a young boy who went to spend the week with his grandfather on the farm. While walking around he noticed the chickens, they were scratching and playing around. The little lad said, “They ain’t got it”. Next he saw a colt in the field playing and kicking up its heel’s to which he replied, “He ain’t got it”. After examining all of the animals on his grandfather’s farm and see that none of them had “it”, this boy finally found the old donkey in the barn. When he saw the donkey’s long, frowning face and the way that the donkey just stood there he screamed for his grandfather to come quick. “I found it, I found it” the boy kept yelling. When his grandfather asked what he had found he said, “Pawpaw, I found an animal that has the same kind of religion that you have.”[i]

Yes, sometimes we can allow our circumstances to dictate our attitude. We can let life rob us of joy. Like Charlie Brown, we can turn everything into a problem. But the Christian message declares joy even in difficult situations, and despite the pain of life. I’ve heard many Christmas messages (and probably preached a few myself), talking about how the angels appeared to miserable shepherds, huddled in the cold, announcing joy despite their suffering. These messages often focus on the shepherds as penniless outcasts, and so they were. In these sermons we hear that the angels appeared to the poor in order to declare their acceptability in God’s sight, giving the gift of joy to those who sorrow and struggle. And this can be true. Certainly, when we are in pain, this is a comforting thought. But recently, I’ve come to think of it in a different way.

Perhaps the shepherds weren’t chosen because they were miserable, and because God wanted them to perk up. Maybe they were chosen because they weren’t like Charlie Brown—because they already knew joy. Joy isn’t the same as happiness. Joy is close to contentment. These shepherds were homeless vagabonds who owned nothing and had to learn to be at peace with that. They knew how to draw from a deep well of joy, rather than trying to be fulfilled by all the things that made other people happy. The angels’ song declares, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests (Luke 2:14 NASB).” But some translations render it, “on earth peace to men of good will.” In other words, peace will come to you on earth if you are the kind of person who has good will. This was exactly what was happening when the angels appeared to the shepherds. They appeared to those who already practiced joy and contentment.

These shepherds remind me of King David, in his younger days when he was just a simple shepherd. In the solitude and simplicity of this life he sought God, and wrote some of the most beautiful poetry in the Bible. Perhaps it was because of this uncomplicated, joyful contentment that he grew close enough to the Lord to be a “man after God’s own heart.” Rather than seeking the things of this world, he sought God and found joy.

These shepherds remind me of an old Puerto Rican homeless man named Victor whom I once knew. Victor had long stringy gray-blond hair and wore rags on his body. He spoke a mixture of Spanish and English and was at times hard to understand. He had nothing, except joy. At random moments you could see Victor jumping up and down, shouting, “Thank you, Jesus! Ay-eee! Holy, holy, holy!” His exuberance was infectious, and lifted my spirit whenever I saw him. Joy is unlike happiness in that it doesn’t require everything in your life to be going well. It doesn’t require creature comforts or even happiness. As Victor showed, it doesn’t even require sanity. Joy simply needs contentment, and results in peace.

Maybe this Christmas, you’re saying, “I hear what you’re saying—but I can’t just turn on Joy like a light switch. Where do I begin?” You begin with things that are a little easier— things like simplicity, gratitude, and trust. Add in a little giving, spiced with a bit of expectancy. Spend some time caring for someone else, rather than focusing on your own problems. Work on these things, and joy will gradually creep up on you.

When joy latches onto you, you can’t help but do something about it. You want to share it with others. The shepherds left their flocks to go and find the baby whose birth was proclaimed. They spread the word, not only about the child, but about what the angels had said concerning him. Like Victor, you can find joy if you start with gratitude and contentment. Then, when the word of God visits you like it came to the shepherds through the angels, these things can be transformed into joy. That joy then spreads to others, eclipsing both the struggles and the happiness of the world. This Christmas, I’m not praying for personal happiness—I’m praying for joy. And I’m praying the same for you as well.






[i] http://www.sermoncentral.com/illustrations/sermon-illustration-chris-layton-humor-joy-3079.asp. December 11, 2015.

"Peace"

When I read that America has had more mass shootings in 2015 than there have been days in the year, my jaw dropped. In the wake of the Planned Parenthood shooting in Colorado Springs, and the San Bernardino shooting which is the deadliest since Newtown, how do you deliver a message on peace? In the Advent calendar, this is the week of peace. What shall I say?

Each of us longs for peace—deeply and desperately. This has been the human dream since the beginning. We work for peace, but peace eludes us. We argue back and forth about whether gun control is the problem or the solution—but the fact is that the problem is the human heart, and the solution only comes from God.

In the first chapter of Luke’s gospel, Zechariah sings a song at the birth of his son John, who will grow up to be the forerunner of the Messiah. In verses 68-69a[i], he says, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, For He has visited us and accomplished redemption for His people, And has raised up a horn of salvation for us.” In our longing for peace, this word “salvation” is used. It comes from the word “salve,” or a healing balm. In this context, it can mean many things.

First, it can mean physical safety. Zechariah sings of “salvation from our enemies, and from the hand of all who hate us (v. 71).” He prays, “grant us that we, being rescued from the hand of our enemies, might serve Him without fear (v. 74).” Being able to serve God without fear of terrorism would a wonderful thing. Everybody wants to live free from those who hate them and wish them harm. Certainly, this is part of the salvation for which Zechariah prayed in his violent world, and for which we pray in our broken world as well.

Then, this “salvation” or “healing” can mean also a purposeful existence for our children. In his song, Zechariah turns to his baby and says, “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare His ways (v. 76).” Every parent in every culture longs to see their children grow and be safe and free to find their life’s mission. It’s not just American parents or Christian parents who want these things for their children—every sane parent wants the same thing.

Next, Zechariah anticipates the coming of the Lord “To give to His people the knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins (v. 77).” Salvation, or “healing” isn’t just a social or political thing; it is also spiritual. Jesus, the ultimate expression of God’s love, wanted us to know that God forgives all our sin. Nothing you could ever do is excluded from God’s forgiveness—and because of that, God wants us to extend that forgiveness and peace to others.

Just as God called John as an agent of change in the world, God calls us “To shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace (v. 79).” This is how we bring salvation, the healing of God, to the world. Granted, it can be a difficult task to swallow our anger over the world’s violence and become shining lights. Our initial reaction is to respond to violence with violence—but that isn’t the way of Christ. Instead, the Lord calls us to realize that the hearts of our enemies are simply bound in darkness, to have compassion on them, and to walk the path of peace.

This desire for peace spans every generation. On Christmas day of 1863, in the wake of his wife’s death and the severe wounding of his son Charles at the Battle of New Hope Church, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote his famous poem, “Christmas Bells.” Lamenting the vast difference between the Christmas ideal of peace, and the reality of violence, he writes:

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

Longfellow ends his poem not with despair, but with hope. The bells reply to his grief with an affirmation that God and good will win in the end. In Psalm 98:3, a different poet echoes the sentiments of Zechariah and Longfellow. “[God] has remembered His loving kindness and His faithfulness to the house of Israel; all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.” Hope for peace is found in the knowledge that not only has God remembered “our” people, but that all those from the ends of the earth are God’s people as well. Knowing that, we trust God to “To shine upon those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace (v. 79).”






[i] Scriptures taken from the NASB

Syrian Refugees - Samaritan's Purse

Click on the link below to watch this important video about Samaritan's Purse and the good work they are doing with Syrian refugees.  Then, prayerfully consider giving to the cause.

The Rising Tide - Europe Refugee CrisisYou've probably seen footage on the news of refugees arriving in Greece by boat, but you've probably not seen anything like this. You've heard opinions about who they are or what they want, but you can see it firsthand in this video. These are the ones lying destitute on the road, and we must be the Good Samaritan. As team leader Dan Stephens shares, "We are the first faces they see when they land." It's our calling to show them the love of our Savior, and that is what many of you have helped us to do by your generous gifts. Learn, pray, and get involved here ▶http://bit.ly/1WNfyDO
Posted by Samaritan's Purse on Wednesday, October 7, 2015

"Loopholes in Love"

            In his book, God Without Religion, Andrew Farley writes about Christians’ relationship with the law.  He says:

One day, while visiting the local Mennonite town, my wife and I witnessed a scene we’ll never forget.  A horse drawing a carriage was trotting through the middle of downtown…towing a bright yellow speedboat!

We laughed and laughed at the hypocrisy of it all.  Yes, the Mennonite man was obeying the letter of Mennonite law.  But he had found a loophole of sorts that enabled him to enjoy just a bit of weekend “freedom.”[i]

            In Luke 10, Jesus meets another such person who was always looking for loopholes.  As a lawyer, he is good at finding legal exemptions and ways of following the letter of the law without necessarily obeying its spirit.  He comes to Jesus with a question about what he needs to do to inherit eternal life.  Knowing the man’s relationship with the law, Jesus meets him where he is.  “What does the law say?” he asks. 

            “Love the Lord with all your heart, soul, and strength,” replies the lawyer.  We think that’s pretty easy.  We love God because He loves us.  But the next is a bit harder: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  This is more difficult because not all our neighbors are lovable.  Yet we can get by with the letter of the law if we realize that technically this only calls for a selfish kind of love, a self-serving care.  If I love my neighbor as I love myself, then I’m only loving him for the way it benefits me.  See—even following the letter of the law, we can do so with the wrong spirit.  But, in a sense, we can get by—sort of. 

            Following the letter of the law is okay, Jesus says.  If that’s all you’re after.  Shrugging, he says, “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live.”  But then the lawyer looks for a loophole, a way that he can meet the legal obligation without having to really love his neighbor, even with a selfish love.  He figures he can limit the number of people that his love should apply to.  So he asks, “Who is my neighbor?”  What he really means is, “Who can I get out of treating like a neighbor?”  In response, Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan:

“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, and they stripped him and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead. And by chance a priest was going down on that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. Likewise a Levite also, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, who was on a journey, came upon him; and when he saw him, he felt compassion, and came to him and bandaged up his wounds, pouring oil and wine on them; and he put him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn and took care of him. On the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper and said, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I return I will repay you.’ Which of these three do you think proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the robbers’ hands?”  And he said, “The one who showed mercy toward him.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do the same (Luke 10:30-37 NASB).”

            Jesus’ point is that there are no loopholes when it comes to love.  Eternal life is loving God with all your heart, soul, and strength.  It’s loving your neighbor.  Our problem is that, like the lawyer, we like to look for loopholes, exemptions, and excuses for following the letter of the law and not the spirit that God intended.  We’d like to just barely get by with the minimum that’s expected.  Following the law seems like enough for us.  But getting to the spirit of it—that just seems too hard!

            The priest and the Levite in Jesus’ story thought that they had loopholes that exempted them from helping someone in need.  First, since they were on their way to sacred duty in the temple, and since touching blood would make them ceremonially unclean, they believed it was their spiritual duty to not help the man in the ditch. Second, they rationalized that if the bandits had assaulted the man then stopping to help him might make them vulnerable as well.  Third, it’s ironic that the Samaritan could have avoided the Jewish victim because of racial stereotypes.  We might expect this, but the Samaritan is blind to ethnic differences. 

            We are guilty of the same kinds of justifications, looking for loopholes in the law that might allow us to get out of loving our neighbor.  We depict ourselves as spiritually superior, afraid that, like the Samaritan’s blood, something about “those people” might rub off on us and make us unclean.  We let our fear of vulnerability keep us from reaching out to those in need, all the while claiming to be righteous yet never displaying the love of Christ.  And unlike the Samaritan, we allow our racial and religious bigotry to paint people according to our stereotypes.  We look for loopholes.  We ask, “Who is my neighbor, anyway?”  We hope that Jesus never points to our worst fear and says, “Here’s your neighbor.”

            The parable of the Good Samaritan is given to us in the context of Jesus’ conversation with a lawyer.  We can be pretty good lawyers ourselves, trying to find loopholes, trying to get away with following the letter and not the spirit of the law.  But those of us who are in Christ are not bound by the Jewish law anyway—we are under a new covenant of grace and love.  Jesus no longer expects us to love our neighbors as ourselves (which is selfish love).  In John 13:34 (NASB), Jesus says, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.”  Loving people as Christ loves us—now that changes everything!  This is a higher path even than the Golden Rule – doing to others what we would want done to ourselves.  Suddenly our motivation is no longer selfish, but divine.  And it’s with divine, not selfish love, that Jesus wants us to love our neighbor.  “Who is my neighbor?” the lawyer asked.  It’s everyone—no exceptions, no loopholes, no excuses.

           

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[i] Farley, Andrew.  God Without Religion: Can It Really Be This Simple?  Baker Books: Grand Rapids, MI.  2011.  Pg. 37.

"An Open Ear"

            This past week when I was in Richmond for a denominational conference, I met my son for lunch on campus at VCU, where he is a student. We enjoyed a good meal, had some good discussion, and when it was time to go I hugged him goodbye and told him I loved him. When I walked out the door and headed toward the parking deck, he followed me. "Are you going to walk me to my truck?" I asked. He nodded, and we walked together, climbing several flights of stairs to my vehicle. "Well," I said, "I've got to get back to the convention," I told him.  I gave him another hug, but instead of walking away, he lingered. "Do you need something?" I asked. His eyes told me that he did need something but that he didn't want t to say. "Do you need some money?" I asked.

            "Well, I always need money," said the college student. so I handed him the largest bill in my wallet. Still, he looked as if he needed something.  So, leaning on my tailgate as men do when they want to have a manly talk, I said, "You know, I can be late to the conference.  What's up?" And finally the real conversation began.

            In Psalm 40:1 (NASB), David writes, "I waited patiently for the Lord; And He inclined to me and heard my cry." As my son demonstrated, when you want the Father's attention, the best thing to do is give him your attention.

            All of us go through times of struggle, where all we want to do is talk to our heavenly Daddy. David describes his situation as one in which he feels himself in a bog of quicksand. Perhaps you've felt that way yourself--maybe you're feeling that way now. Academic problems, financial woes, medical situations, or relationship troubles, and so many other things threaten to overwhelm us.  But God is the One who lifts us out of the pit of destruction and gives us a firm place to stand. He does this when we wait patiently for him.

            Waiting on God is the patient act of inclining the heart heavenward. David doesn't say that God heard his prayer--he says that God hears his cry.  This inclination toward God isn't a wordy discourse, but a silent waiting that is anything but idleness. It is trusting that God already knows our hearts. Romans 8:27-27 (NASB) says:

...The Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words; and He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

            This means that when we pray, we don't have to worry about words.  The Spirit knows what we mean. God knows our hearts. All we need to do is wait patiently for God, and He will incline towards us. Mercy Me sings the song "Word of God, Speak", which says:

I'm finding myself at a loss for words

And the funny thing is it's okay

The last thing I need is to be heard

But to hear what You would say

            In this kind of prayer, the key isn't knowing what to say, but resting in silent trust of God.  Verse 4 (NASB) says, "How blessed is the man who has made the Lord his trust." Trust is active passivity. It is allowing yourself to be God's patient, to let God to work on you instead of trying to do the work yourself.

            The problem with prayer is that we've been taught to talk a lot, and to listen very little.  But in verse 6 (NASB), David says, "My ears You have opened." Over the years I've learned that prayer is MOSTLY about listening to God, and only a little bit about talking. When we fill the air with our words, telling God everything that we want, we get so distracted that we forget to listen to what God wants. How are we supposed to pray "Thy will be done," if we never listen to discern God's will?  What we need is less talking in prayer, and more listening.

            In an interview with Dan Rather, Mother Theresa said that when she prays, he doesn't talk to God--she just listens.  Rather asked her, "What does God say?" In reply she said, "Oh, God doesn't say anything. He just listens." When we wait on God, and God inclines toward us, this mutual inclination is called meditation and contemplation.

            Contemplative prayer doesn't give God a list of everything we want or need. In contemplative prayer, we simply say as David did, "Behold, I come (Psalm 40:7 NASB)." Perhaps this one-sentence prayer is all we need in order to simple BE in God's presence. When we do this, we discern His will, and His word is written on our hearts (v 8).  Some other one-sentence prayers from this psalm might also be, "Be pleased, O Lord, to deliver me; Make haste, O Lord, to help me (v. 13),)" or simply, “The Lord be magnified (v.16)!”  Maybe a one-sentence prayer, or a one-word prayer like "Come" is all you need, to rest in God's presence and listen for His voice.

            This week His really showed me something in the parking deck with my son. Sometimes we don't need to say a word about what we want. Sometimes all we need to do is patiently wait on God, and God will incline toward us. This silent trust is the greatest kind of prayer.

"Out of Body Experience"

I knew a man who had an Out of Body Experience. He died on the operating table, and was brought back to life. He described the typical things you always hear about: seeing a bright light, going through a tunnel, meeting Jesus and seeing his loved ones. When he recovered from his surgery, he had quite a tale to tell.  I even invited him to tell it from my pulpit. But the problem was that he never showed any evidence that his life was changed (other than being lengthened) by the experience. I had hoped that this man, who never gave any thought to spiritual things before, might actually be transformed by such an event. I knew him for years after the incident, and stayed in close connection to him, and I never saw any repentance, spiritual growth, or fruit in his life.  I'm glad I'm not the Judge, because if I were, I'm sure I'd get it wrong--but people like that make me wonder.

You see, the Christian life about spiritual transformation. It's not about saying you've had a mystical experience. It's about a relationship with the living God, not about joining an organization. Too many people think that being a Christian is about attending a church or getting baptized. What it's really about is Jesus changing you. Eternal life is about leaving behind your life that's based on the things of this world, and exchanging it for a life focused on infinite things. It's about putting your selfish self to death and taking up your cross daily to follow the Lord.

Now I know that as soon as I say this, some readers will say, "Wait a minute!  Eternal life is about living eternally: your soul living forever in heaven with Jesus after you die." This is what we are so familiar with: the idea that eternal life is about living forever. That it’s about an eternal duration of life.  I'm not arguing against this. In fact, the Bible has a lot to say about an afterlife, either experiencing God’s mercy or apart from knowing God's love. I am suggesting, however, that eternal life means more than that.  You can live an eternal life here and now, and you don't have to die in order to have an Out of Body Experience.

Certainly, death will be the ultimate OBE.  In fact, Paul tells us to so look forward to it that we eagerly desire the upcoming state of life:

For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.  (2 Corinthians 5:1-4 ESV)

Paul describes the earthly body as a physical tent that we wear.  He says that our spirits groan to be free of this tent, and to be clothed in glory and ultimate life.  We long for the day when we can be free of the encumbrance of these physical bodies and their limitations.  We look forward to putting on our resurrection bodies, which will be forever free of pain, sickness, and injury.  That will be a permanent Out of Body Experience.

Usually, when we use the term OBE, we’re either talking about people who intentionally leave their bodies through religious euphoria or drug-induced states.  These people have an OBE without dying at all. Trance states, dreams, and visions are the water in which mystics swim. Paul describes it this way:

I must go on boasting. Though there is nothing to be gained by it, I will go on to visions and revelations of the Lord. I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know, God knows. And I know that this man was caught up into paradise—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know, God knows— and he heard things that cannot be told, which man may not utter. (2 Corinthians 12:1-4 ESV)

Many believers seek these kinds of OBEs, but this is not the ordinary Christian experience. These phenomena are exceptions to the spiritual rule.  Instead, the real Christian life is supposed to be an everyday Out of Body Experience, in which we no longer focus on the things of this world but transform our reality into a spiritual one.  Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Jardin said, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.”[i]  This is eternal life—to daily walk around having an OBE, where you are transformed into a spiritual being having a human experience and not the other way around.  Paul continues in 2 Corinthians 5:6-9:

So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him.  

Being at home in the body means living this physical life—something we’re all doing right now.  But feeling at home in the body makes it impossible to please God.  As spirit-walkers, God calls every believer to no longer feel at home in the body, but to be guided by courage as we try to please God.  As everyday visionaries who don’t need a trance-induced state, believers walk by faith, not by sight.  Hebrews 11:1 (ESV) describes faith as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  This faith-insight gives us courage to face whatever life has to offer, confident that God will see us through.  I pray that for you, every day will be an Out of Body Experience, and that this experience will transform your life.

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[i] http://blog.theclearingnw.com/spiritual-beings-having-a-human-experience.  October 24, 2015.

"One Thing"

                When I was a teenager, I was in a church play entitled, “A Little Dinner Magic,” loosely based on Leo Tolstoy’s story of Martin the Cobbler.  In the play, a modern American family finds out that Jesus will be coming to dinner.  In their haste to make all the preparations, they end up bickering with one another.  Their perfectionist determination keeps them from giving attention to the visitors who show up at their door: people in need who the family doesn’t have time or inclination to help.  Finally, Jesus speaks to them and reveals that He was there all along, that he showed up at the door in the form of strangers.  Hanging their heads, the family understands that in all their distraction, they missed the One Thing that matters most.

                What would you do, if you found out that Jesus was coming to dinner?  What would I do?  When I have guests at my house, I’m usually the last one to sit down to dinner.  I’m busy running around, making sure that everybody has what they need, because I think a lot about the value of hospitality.  But in all the taking care of my guests, I can sometimes forget about my guests. 

                Jesus’ friend Martha was the same way.  In Luke 10:38-42, the Lord and all twelve of his disciples stop by the home of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary.  Martha complains to Jesus that, with all the preparations that need to be made, Mary isn’t helping.  She’s simply sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to him teach.  Jesus surprises his hostess with his response: “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but only one thing is necessary.  Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her (vv. 41-42 ESV).”

                Let’s not be too harsh with Martha.  After all, Jesus isn’t.  His answer is tender and compassionate.  With great love he calls her by her name twice.  He is concerned about the things that concern her.  He is aware of the great burden of hospitality that thirteen men place on the household.  When Jesus says that Mary has chosen the good portion, he isn’t saying Martha has chosen the bad part—only that Mary has chosen the better.  He says that she is worried and upset over many things, but only one thing is necessary.  What do you think that “One Thing” is?

                The first thing that he might mean is that she is so busy preparing many different dishes, and only one thing is necessary (like a casserole).  Certainly, hospitality has its priority—but there is a degree of extravagance that prevents a person from truly enjoying time with their guests.  Perhaps Martha is busy preparing many things, but Jesus would rather she kept it simple so she too could sit and visit like her sister.

                There may be something else that Jesus means by “One Thing.”  Martha is likely so desperate for Jesus’ approval because she feels herself unworthy to sit at His feet. Only one thing is needed: a sense of her own value that doesn't need someone else's validation.  She’s rushing around trying to make Jesus happy by her good works, and doesn’t even realize that Jesus is already happy with her.  We can be the same way, trying to please Jesus so much that we forget that he is already pleased with his children, and just wants us to spend time with him.

                There is another factor at play here, contributing to Jesus’ “One Thing.”  Martha is trying to manipulate her sister by using Jesus, rather than going straight to Mary herself.  Jesus was a big believer that if you have a problem with someone, you should take it up with them and not gossip to other people about it[1].  Only one thing is needed: Honesty about her feelings.  Jesus wants us to be honest about our feelings as well.  It’s tough to say the hard things that need to be said to our loved ones, to take ownership of our own hurt feelings and disappointments.  But if anything is going to change, we need to be honest about the way we feel.

                Finally, Martha is so preoccupied with material things that she can't focus on spiritual life.  Only one thing is necessary: spiritual priority.  It’s easy for us to become so focused on this physical life—the earthly demands that take up so much of our attention.  But Jesus wants us to sometimes be more like Mary, who has chosen the better part.  Mary knows that it’s okay to focus on the spirit instead of the flesh, and Jesus wants us to know that as well.

                In the 1991 movie “City Slickers,” Billy Crystal plays a man named Mitch who is having a midlife crisis.  He and his friends take a trip to a dude ranch to find themselves.  Jack Palance plays a grizzled guide named Curly.  In a teachable moment, Curly asks Mitch, “Do you know what the secret of life is?”  He holds up one finger and says, “This.”  Mitch asks, “Your finger?”  Curly replies, “One thing.  Just one thing.  You stick to that and the rest don’t mean [squat].”  Mitch asks, “But, what is the ‘one thing?’”  Curly smiles and says, “That's what you have to find out.”  I think that Jesus is pretty much saying the same thing to Martha, and he says the same to us as well.

                We want to make God very complicated with our systematic theologies and high-pressure sales, our works-based salvation that imagines we have to somehow pleased God either by how much we do for him or how well we behave.  But God is simple, uncomplicated, straightforward. God only asks that you be present in the moment and take the opportunity that is provided to love Him and follow Him.  In Psalm 46:10a, the Lord says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”  This is the simplicity, the “One Thing” to which Jesus calls us.   I pray that, like Mary did, and like Martha learned, you will be able to be still, and know.