Of Dish-washing and Scrabble
Consider the fearful bride, always preparing.
She’s reading books, all the books of wifery and motherhood, of housekeeping and hosting, and lastly those books full of… let’s call it scrabble. She’s especially worried about scrabble. Several girlfriends gave her several books on the subject at her bachelorette party, along with assorted items for, shall we say, higher scoring. It’s important to a marriage, this little game. As her day approaches, it’s all she can think about, and not with the same sort of distraction as her groom.
She talks about it with friends, both unmarried and married. She talks to her mom (which is just awkward), and she even consults that nice counselor lady at her church. She feels unsettled in the way a breeze disturbs a lake, a nervous energy in the pit of her stomach.
The thought of scrabble terrifies her.
The day arrives and she pulls her self beneath the surface, holding her breath while the ceremony passes in a blur of flowers, tears, and cheers. There’s a dinner, a dance, a car ride, and then, well… scrabble. Her worst fears come true and things don’t go as hoped or planned or whatever. At last, the couple finds themselves lying beside the game board, each scratching their head inside their own heads. They sigh, they roll over. They go to sleep.
***
I was thinking about Martha the other day. I don’t know if you will remember her, she didn’t really play a big part in the Gospels, but she was Mary Magdalene’s sister, the one who lived in Bethany where Jesus spent the night on occasion when he was passing through.
They must have been good company because Jesus liked visiting there. One visit in particular comes to mind. Recall the time when Jesus was teaching some people in their house. Martha was irritated that Mary wasn’t helping her host and serve dinner, but listening to Jesus instead. She told Jesus as much, but He didn’t reply in kind. He said that Mary had chosen the good thing and Martha was worried and bothered about things that weren’t that important.
Does that bring anyone else to mind? It should.
We’re a bootstrap sort of people. We pull ourselves up, we lay ourselves down, and pat ourselves on the back because we’ve done a good job. When we hear of the coming day when heaven will crash into earth, we start making ready. We preach, we organize, we minister, we don’t get any sleep, and then somebody gets pissed off. After our little kingdom falls apart, we reorganize to begin again. For all of our efforts, we cannot fix ourselves. We do not realize we are just trading empty hearts back and forth.
“Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?” And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you who practice lawlessness.’”
When the day finally came, Mary stood beneath the cross, and Mary found Jesus in the Garden, the very first to see Him made new. We never hear from Martha again.
Jesus said, “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” He appreciates our efforts, just as he exonerates Ephesus before he tells them, “You have left your first love.” Yet, distracted in our striving, we become the fearful bride who forgot to simply just “be” with her groom. We are Martha, washing dishes while Jesus sits in the living room. We forgot how we were alone and dying, and the joy of our salvation is not the effort of or our work, but the fellowship of creator God, the only thing we could share that’s worth anything at all.
