A few years ago I had a shopping shenanigan with my youngest child that always makes me re-think the fast pace I try to maintain during the Christmas season. I was trying to cram in a quick Target run before picking the older two girls up from school. We ran in the store, loaded our cart full of a few items, and made our way back to the front. Then just as we took our place in the busy checkout line my restless preschooler tugged on my arm and begged loudly, “Can’t we just steal this stuff?”
She said it so casually and shamelessly that it sounded like stealing was something we did on the regular. I was mortified. And I’ve never been more relieved to get through a line and out of a store. Three years later, that little errand still serves as a good reminder for me that it’s not healthy to spend the whole month of December running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off.
I read a short devotion not long ago about Mary and Martha. Most of us have heard the story and know that Martha is gently reprimanded by Jesus for being so preoccupied with fixing a meal that she misses out on an opportunity to enjoy his company. She’s frustrated with her sister, Mary, who has left her to do all the prep work while she calmly and contentedly hangs out with Jesus. In this instance, Jesus makes it clear that Mary gets it right when she chooses to do the more important thing by being with him rather than buzzing around the kitchen.
I’ve never been a big fan of this story because I relate too well with Martha. I don’t think the Bible gives us the details, but I feel certain Martha is a firstborn. She was probably good at hosting and organizing and all sorts of other detail-oriented tasks. She’s likely a type-A, Enneagram 1 who would have an active Pinterest account, a well-managed calendar on her iPhone, and a knack for pulling off meals and events. I’d say she kept several plates spinning at all times. On this day she’s worked up and anxious about getting things done because it’s her house and her chance to do this right. She knew dinner wasn’t going to cook itself, and who wants to drop the ball on the meal when Jesus is the guest? If ever there was a time to bring out the good china and set out place cards, this was it. And if there was ever a time to throw your sister under the bus for being a little lackadaisical, this was the moment for that, too. I completely understand Martha.
But on this night, Martha’s preoccupation with the details stood in the way of something far more important: quality time with her Savior. Her prep work, even her attention to detail, wasn’t wrong. Jesus doesn’t reprimand her for being wired a certain way. Her timing was just off. Her priorities had gotten out of whack and Jesus—as a friend who loves her—points it out.
I especially relate to Martha during the Christmas season. In fact, I would argue that there would be no Christmas as we know it if it wasn’t for the Marthas of the world. All the buying, baking, decorating, card-sending, wrapping, etc. is more a Martha thing. Meanwhile the Marys of the world might be more often found riding around looking at Christmas lights, caroling, or sipping hot cocoa by a fire. It all seems a little unfair. As hard as it is for me to accept this truth and live like I believe it, I think the Martha/Mary story is a timely reminder that being present is more important than buying presents.
Martha (interrupting Jesus): Lord, why don’t You care that my sister is leaving me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to get over here and help me.
Jesus: Oh Martha, Martha, you are so anxious and concerned about a million details, but really, only one thing matters. Mary has chosen that one thing, and I won’t take it away from her.
Luke 10:38-42, The Voice
“Anxious and concerned about a million details” pretty much sums up my way of living in December, if not year round. I’m not particularly good at being present. Technology doesn’t help matters. I can physically be with my spouse or the girls or anyone else without mentally being there at all. There are things to do and those things always seem more urgent than having a fireside conversation.
I’m a stereotypical suburban mom in so many ways. When I stop buzzing around long enough to consider the depth of need and hurt some people are experiencing every day, I feel guilty for being anxious about anything. My life is not hard by many measures. But that realization doesn’t stop anxiety from taking hold of my mind, nor does it automatically reorder the priorities of my heart. I’ve got to do more than just acknowledge that my perspective is out of whack. I need to take action steps to change it.
The late Ray Stedman, one of my favorite pastors says, “I don’t know of anything more desperately necessary for Christians today than that we personally and individually expose our minds and thoughts to the revelation of God’s truth and consistently practice looking at life as he tells us it is, not as the world or our feelings say it is—and that we take his teaching seriously. To fail to do so is what gets us all confounded and confused.”
I don’t want to be “confounded and confused” this whole month… or in general, for that matter.
I’m not sure how to be countercultural and reflective this season in all the right ways, but I’m trying to simplify and slow down. I’ve unsubscribed from a ton of email lists. Just because Shutterfly is having a flash sale tomorrow doesn’t mean I need to spend time reading and deleting five emails about it this week. I’m also trying to refrain from the impulse to rearrange the nativity set or redecorate the tree every time the girls move things around.
I need to drive slower. I want to take the time to make eye contact and smile at other customers and cashiers in checkout lines. I want to be intentional about the content I take in this season. Music has a way of calming our spirit and redirecting our thoughts, and I need to listen to it instead of tuning into another podcast. I want to think about and act upon ways to show kindness and love to people in my community who are lonely or hurting or in need. I want to be thoughtful about last-minute errands and more intentional about creating some margin in the evenings leading up to Christmas itself because margin is what makes room for presence.
I don’t think Martha had it all wrong all the time. There’s a time and a place for details and getting things done. But it’s rarely the most important thing. And it’s surely not the most important thing in a season that calls us to reflect on the birth of the one who can save us—from our sins and from our restless selves.
O come, o come, Emmanuel.
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