The Night Circus

So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks receives, he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.  Luke 11: 9-10

Somehow the onset of cool weather stirs up pensive, what-have-the-years-wrought reflections.  I’ve been thinking about how Dustin and I have been in Tucson for four years now.  Four years ago I had no eyesight, neither of us had jobs, and both of felt rather unsettled about how it might look for us to live in Tucson, to find friends, to build a community.

So many things are different, four years later.  I have two well-functioning eyeballs, we own a house, I started and finished graduate school, we both have had an assortment of fulfilling and stretching jobs- but really, these last four years have been defined by our community, our small group.

I’ve started and restarted this paragraph a multitude of times- what is it about the group?  Is it that each person is a magical circus performer- that each person astonishes and astounds with his or her insights and warmth and abilities to add beauty to the world?  Yup, that is certainly the case.  But more, I think it may be that we are the circus at night.  The dazzle and sequins are still there…but after hours the dim lights are turned to high and you can see the make-up is smudged and that I’ve tromped on the back of my gown enough times to have torn it and everyone has blisters.  It’s the fact that when we step into the less-flattering light, the night circus steps in closer.  Perched on musty couches, we pop the champagne and lay it all out- the unfolding of our days, the points of failure and the points of redemption, the burning questions of Who is God and How Can We Relate to Him.

As I reflect on these last four years, I am overwhelmed by the faithfulness of God.  In truth many things have gone badly and I’ve had maybe my share of sorrow- I’ve stormed and glowered and shaken my fist with the best of them.  But with all clarity I can see that God has been responsive to my cry and has opened the door to my knockings.   The deepest and most vulnerable needs have been met and cared for- and most often my community was the means through with which God spoke to me and comforted me and filled my cup.

The Joy of Ethical Ambiguity

Everything is permissible- but not everything is beneficial.  Everything is permissible- but not everything is constructive.  Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others…So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the Glory of God.   

 1 Corinthians 10:23-24, 31

I’ve had the pleasure of mentoring Ms. Fiona Brown for the last three years.  Over mochas and Time Market raspberry muffins we dive in to existential talks of The Future, the potentiality of prospective suitors (aka: how fine such and such boy is), and Who Is God and How Do We Relate to Him.  The topic of yesterday’s discussion, however, particularly made me think.  We discussed ethical ambiguity- how the Bible rarely gives hard fast rules, but rather teaches in parables and often communicates seemingly contradictory ideas.  Fiona and I brainstormed just a few of these issues that are imbued with tension:

1. Faith without works is dead AND it is by grace we have been saved, not by works
2. God created us to be fleshy people who want to have sex and who enjoy sex AND we are also to have control over our bodies and not lust
3. We are to be in community and fellowship with one another AND in quietness is our strength
4. We are called to submit to one another AND we are called to hold each other accountable
5. Jesus turned water into wine at the end of the party for all the wedding guests AND we are not to be drunk
6. We should be good workers and at peace with everyone as far as it depends on us AND our priority is to serve God, not people

Rob Bell addresses this issue in his book Sex God.  He reflects on how difficult it is to live in a place of tension, of having to wrestle through each decision and figure out what is best for THAT particular time and place.  As humans, we much prefer to draw lines and say, It’s always this or It’s always that.  Tension is uncomfortable.  Drawing lines is easier.  Dietrich Bonheoffer says something similar when it comes to the discipline of silence.  It’s much easier to determine I am just going to be silent rather than having to intentionally sift through and decide when to speak and when to shut up.  One is forced to constantly engage and constantly think and be in constant communication with God when issues are ambiguous.

 I suppose He did it on purpose.

I suppose He did it on purpose so that we always remember that ushering in the kingdom is a conversation, is talking and living and breathing and thinking.  That if we think we know The Rules, we should probably look again.

An Epiphany

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone.  To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.

1 Corinthians 12: 4-7

I’ve had an epiphany this week.  I read an article in Christianity Today that addresses the issue of Spiritual Leadership.  I think many of us grew up with the belief that men should be the spiritual leaders in a dating/marriage relationship.  But when you probe and poke this rather nebulous phrase spiritual leader, it often boils down that we define spiritual leadership as initiating devotionals , bible studies, and prayer.  Bam.  The big enchilada- initiating devotionals.  As I read this article I had a flush of horror, because it hit me square in the chest, pointing out this weird unspoken definition of leadership that I myself subscribed to and which was totally arbitrary.  It was actually a perennial issue between Dustin and me…I’ve spent many nights of my marriage obsessing over the fact that I initiated our end-of-the-day prayer time together and what does that mean about our relationship and what does that mean about Dustin’s relationship with God and oh no, oh no, things must be falling apart!

Which is total baloney. 

The problem with this definition (and litmus test) of spiritual leadership is that it boxes my husband in.  It also boxes God in.  By focusing so intently on this one quality, I completely devalued the ten thousand other spiritual gifts and fruit of the spirit spouting out of Dustin’s life…his gifts of compassion and behind-the-scene service and gentleness and quickness to forgive.  Gifts that God values and has deemed as Really Important Characteristics.  But yet, because Dustin didn’t initiate doing a devotional together, I faced existential crises. 

I did a methodical, comprehensive survey of the female species (aka: I asked all the women in my family during dinner) about this topic.  Each of them confessed that they too had this same definition of spiritual leadership and that it had, in truth, been something of an issue in THEIR relationships.  I began to suspect that actually, as a culture, we have defined this “initiating” quality as masculine and almost all other fruits of the spirit as “feminine.”  Somehow we have grown into a Christian culture NOT on the lookout for manly spiritual leaders boldly paving the way to more compassionate, gentle way of life. 

While talking over the issue with Dustin, he mentioned that for a good many years he had been consumed with the question “Am I man enough” -mostly due to the John Elderich-ing of high school boys everywhere (his words).  John Elderich is an excellent example of this overwhelming Christian cultural understanding of what it means to be a godly man…Being the hero, beating the bad guys, doing daring feats and rescuing the damsel in distress (Elderich, 2001).  Aggressive, initiating, wild.  Which is pretty darn specific, and thankfully, not particularly biblical. 

I would propose that the Bible teaches that spiritual leadership means being filled with the Holy Spirit and having one’s life abundantly overflow with fruits of the Spirit so that every aspect of who one is reflects the glory of God.  Which, for that matter, is the calling God has for ALL our lives.  The big question, as my mom would always ask, Are YOU being a leader for good?

I felt quite challenged this week to reassess my understanding of leadership…challenged to carefully and critically bring these little biases into the light.  Because just now I am realizing how it has hindered my relationship with my husband…but probably has extended outward into how I relate to men.  And how I relate to women.  And how I internally weigh spiritual gifts as better or worse or more useful or less useful, which really, hinders how I relate to God.  

The Romans Road, Four Spiritual Laws, and Jesus

But Zacchaeus stood and said to the Lord, “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded any one of anything, I restore it fourfold.” And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house.” Luke 19:1-10

The story of Zacchaeus is rather spectacular: offering kindness to a tax collector- ie, an oppressor of the people, disregarding local protocol of ceremonial cleanliness so that one lonely man feels particularly loved, a 360 degree change of lifestyle in response to Jesus’ extension of mercy. But with this last reading, one detail snagged my attention.

Zacchaeus is up in a tree. No respectable man in the Middle East would ever climb a tree…and if he did, he would certainly take GREAT effort to ensure that no one would see him. Clearly he was seen. Plan failed. I thought it was interesting that Jesus knew Zacchaeus’ name. But then I started imagining the town walking along the road…One person spots a shoe hanging down and starts laughing. He nudges the guy next to him and points out (probably using colourful language) that the number-one-town-enemy looks like a dinglebomb up in a tree. Soon everyone is jeering at Zacchaeus, calling out taunts, maybe hinting that he’s in a tree, easy enough to accidentally string him up. Jesus is an astute guy- it doesn’t take long to catch on to the murmuring and the scowls and the mean-spirited laughter.

So Jesus says, Hey, I’m going to your house for dinner. That’s it. He says something nice to Zacchaeus. He doesn’t explain the path to salvation using the Romans Road. He doesn’t delineate on the finer points of the Four Spiritual Laws. Jesus just says something kind and goes out of his way to make Zacchaeus feel special. Which is enough to move Zacchaeus to change, no- not even that, to move Zacchaeus to WANT to change. In those two minutes Zacchaeus doesn’t actually give every single person four times what he owes them- he just makes a statement about needing to live his life differently. And that WANT to change is what Jesus affirms. What Jesus affirms as salvation.

Which reminds me of that song lyric: It’s His kindness that leads to repentance. Which reminds me that it’s my kindness that acts as an extension of God’s kindness, which then leads to repentance. It’s me pointing out something good in a person, or being impulsively NICE (which, you know, is sometimes quite the stretch) that leads people to want to change their lives. It’s not me pointing out major flaws in their worldview schema that leads to change (which, you know, is sometimes exactly what I do).

This story challenges my idea of evangelism or the missional church- really forces me to look hard at the way I live my life. Do I talk a lot of theoretical, Foundational Truths of the Faith or do I act a lot by showing kindness- from the dinglebombs who would probably do well with a swift kick to the butt, to those People Who See Things Exactly The Way I Do. It’s embarrassing how often I sniff something about being busy or more open-minded and enlightened…and then simply walk away from individuals who are hurting or that need a friend. Those Pharisee Heather roots grow ever so deeply and ever so wrongly.

Ideas of Normalcy- Second Glances at Ephesians

I urge you to walk in manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with each other in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.  

Ephesians 4: 1

Paul is quite methodical in his letter to Ephesus.  He starts out chapter one by reminding the church that EVERY follower of Christ is blessed with EVERY spiritual blessing and receives the FULL inheritance of what it means to be a son or daughter of Christ- regardless of gender, race, or age.  Next, in chapter two, Paul reminds the church that we have been shown a huge amount of grace- so therefore we need to show grace to each other because we are all one in Christ.  And then in the following chapters he specifically addresses how to live out this unity and grace within the broken cultural system of the day.  And actually- this letter isn’t just to any old clumping of people- it’s written to a church.  This letter is about how to address the broken cultural system within the church.

The church in Ephesus had a lot of broken systems- but foremost in Paul’s mind was how people interact with one another.   In those days, children, women, and slaves would fall into the category of THINGS- things to be ruled and governed over by men.  Men made the decisions because they were believed to be more fit leaders and armed with more appropriate spiritual gifting to make decisions and rule.  This concept flew in direct contrast to the very first opening chapter in Ephesians- which is that actually ALL followers of Christ have EVERY spiritual blessing- from leadership, to teaching, to giving, to showing mercy.  In writing the letter to the Ephesians, Paul sought to both gently nudge the church leaders towards the relational shift necessary for the blossoming of the church culture while simultaneously reminding those who were marginalized by the current system to not grow bitter but to continue to honor, respect, and serve because they are indeed serving God, not men.  

It’s funny how God is willing to speak in a very direct way if I bother making the time to listen.  This last little while I’ve been percolating over our own church culture.  Some things are great…but some things are broken.  The problem with percolating is that sometimes I end up with an extra-strong coffee that no one can possibly stomach.  I remember my sophomore Western Civilization teacher once saying to me, “Heather, you have a ferocious justice-o-meter.”  The problem being that I easily allow my desire to make things right turn into bitterness- which is exactly what Paul admonishes kids/women/slaves about- their need to continue to honor/respect/serve even in the face of hardship and mistreatment.  It’s also why the final chapter on dressing oneself with the armor of God is so fitting.  The fight is not against our brothers and sisters- against flesh and blood- but against the spiritual forces that would distract from The Point and extinguish compassion and love.

Clearly it is important to Paul that each person have the opportunity to live out the giftings that Christ has given as an inheritance AND it’s important that the unity within the body of Christ is maintained.  It’s one of those tricksy teeter-totter balancing act.  The ability to nudge the church towards a more true reflection of God’s vision of restoration while blocking the ugly arrows of resentment.

It’s something I’ve struggled with- but I also felt like God met me concerning this issue this week.  He reminded me that I DO need to live out the calling to which I have been called- even if it rocks to the boat- but the living out needs to be done with humility and gentleness.  It’s good to be reminded that God is both my champion and defender and also wants me to take each step with wisdom and care.

Tiptoeing Through the Tulips

If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light.  But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness.  Matthew 6:22-23a

I’m obsessed with my garden.  Really, every single morning I don a bathrobe, pour a cup of coffee, and spend a minimum of a half of an hour creeping through my yard smiling at the Rocky Mountain Honeysuckle, tickling open the Iceland Poppies, whispering sweet nothings over the Mexican Primrose.  Even before the spring flowers actually began their wild trill of color, I would go out there to gloat and grin and pray health into those almost-flowers- the tiny buds that would be.  And then I would start my day.  And then I would pull out my journal and bible and grouch about how so-and-so really needed to get their act together and fuss about this-and-that worrisome behavior and should I confront him-or-her.

Every now and then in the middle of my devotion, my eye would catch some previously-unseen splash of color in the yard.  I would stop everything, leap out of my chair, and race over to clap my hands and commence my own personal version of a highland fling to celebrate the growth.  And then.

And then I felt this slight whispering.  This whispering that said, let this garden be a lesson in how to love.  In how to live.  I recognize that when it comes to my garden, my eyes are full of light and I see only good things.  CLEARLY my garden is at least ten years out from making the Better Home and Gardens centerfold, but I see only the potential for beauty- the little half-centimeter growths that could possibly amount to a bud, that could possibly unfurl into a flower. 

But when it comes to people, my eyesight tends to be bad and sometimes I only see darkness.  I am quick to identify flaws in the landscape, quick to point out miniscule disappointments or instances of poor judgment.  What would my day be if I allowed God to give me a vigorous face-wash so that I only focus on the beauty in people’s lives, if I were to spend my waking moments singing and strutting over my friends’ growths and decisions for good.  If I were to spend as much energy spying out potential buds of the spirit that maybe might plump out into fruits of the spirit.  

The Gospel of Peace and Shoe Spikes

Put on the full armor of God…with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes with the gospel of peace…”  Eph 6:15

Anything I’ve ever heard about The Armor of God section of Ephesians has a lot to do with some serious tactical battle approaches.  You know what I’m talking about- do a quick consultation with Mr. Google and you’ll dig up about five hundred essays on how soldiers had spikes in their shoes to keep them from falling over- the gospel of peace should be like shoe spikes.  Essays on how peace gives you a firm chin, where you can resolutely march forward in the thickest battles- the gospel of peace makes you a good stiff upper lip.  Essays that convey the ugliness of combat, bayonets lifted and war cries ring out- the gospel of peace stabs out in the darkness, slaughtering all that is…non-peaceful? 

Hang with me here.  I know that Paul is writing about how we need to put on armor because spiritual battle is ACTUALLY intense and ought to be taken seriously.  This is a war metaphor during a time of great civil unrest and brutality and The Enemy creates unrest and brutality.  Paul is talking in terms that the people understand, and naturally, it rather sticks in the craw of a staunch, do-till-you-die pacifist.    

However. 

This is a long introduction to say that this morning, I was struck by the fact that we are made READY by the gospel peace.  Our feet are fitted with readiness because of PEACE.  What does that mean?  When I think of peace, I do not think of a stiff upper lip.  I do not think of shoe spikes.  I do not think of bayonets and stabbing.  I do think of Middle C- that perfect note singing clear through darkness.  I do think of quiet meadows by cool streams, with sunlight vacillating between the trees.  I do think of adventure- that wild joy of verdant youth, always prepared to jump because the ground will always catch you. 

Our feet are fitted with readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 

I feel anxious about The Future (oh yes, that theme, again) and this morning I felt a sigh of relief.  I am made ready for the future by internalizing NOW the gospel of peace.  The gospel of peace.  The unconditional acceptance from a God who loves me.  The undeserved mercy and compassion extending over ALL who hurt and ache and are weary.  The victory that causes weapons of death to be hammered out into ploughs of life- tools that encourage food and health. 

My task is not to turn myself into a determined do-gooding, forward-marching machine, but rather to connect myself with Christ.  The more I sit at his feet, breathing in his name, the more likely I am to love my enemy, to loosen my hold on micromanaging, to laugh at the unexpected.  The more likely I am to be ready to bring the gospel of peace.  

A Slick Set of Drawers

No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine.  Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.  John 15: 4

Jesus’ imagery here is a little sneaky.  It’s funny that He calls us branches in a vine, not say, branches in an oak tree or perhaps a mesquite.  I was thinking about that.  I was thinking that it might be a lot nicer to be an oak tree or a mesquite.  If you cut off one of those suckers, you have a fairly nice piece of wood there.  You can use it to make a slick set of drawers or maybe turn ‘em into a lamp or a chair.  You can polish that baby up and have a nice piece of something, that’s for sure.  Imagine, you could be a really solid side table in the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Vines, on the other hand, are totally worthless when they are cut off from the main enchilada.  They instantly loose strength and become limp noodles- aka- perhaps useful for snapping around and hitting people in the face but not at all useful for building things. 

But I guess that’s the point: we are made for the express purpose of glorifying God and enjoying Him forever- the catch being that you actually have to be somewhat connected to Him in order to do the said glorifying and enjoying, much less have any active fruit-production in your life.  The point is that if we are disconnected from God, all we end up doing is whipping around and hurting people despite our best intentions.  On the other hand, if we are connected to Him, all sorts of juicy goodness can flow from our hearts and minds and thoughts.  We can be used to bring life and oxygen into barren, suffocated deserts.  

Blood in the Water

You always hear the phrase blood in the water.  I think of shark movies, where the blood is one drop or many drops of red food coloring.  The dye quickly diffuses into a thousand lighter shades of red, now pink.  All the water is pink.  There is blood in the water and ruthless flashes of rear-pointed teeth and wild shrieks pre-empting amputation or death.  I hate shark movies. 

But what I see is not that type of blood in the water.  It is more like oil in water, with the oil keeping to itself in oblong loops.  There is no solubility, no pink.  But maybe not quite like oil in water because what I see sinks.  Heavier than water.  Mercury in the water.  But not quite like mercury either.  The not-oil and not-mercury flows to the bottom of the toilet, creating a long train as it heads towards the bowl siphon.  It wraps itself around the poo.  The poo that came out with the other sort of pushing.  The poo that only poked its head out from the bowl siphon.  That’s shitty, I think to myself.  The PUNisher strikes again, I think to myself.   Gramma wouldn’t find that joke funny, I think to myself. 

Really, the blood in the water is most like gelatinous jellies, silently sifting through the Pacific’s zooplankton.  The difference being that the gelatinous jellies are alive while the blood in the water is not. 

You can find anything on the internet.  At seven weeks hands and feet emerge from developing arms and legs.  At seven weeks there is a liver producing red blood cells and a pancreas that will soon produce hormone insulin (for digestion?).  At seven weeks it’s the size of a blueberry.  I squint.  More the size of an eraser on a number 2 pencil. 

For three days (has it really been three days?) I find pieces of cord, twisting strips of veins, a large flap of placenta wrapped around a tampon.  I actually take the piece of placenta off the tampon and lay it on a single square of double-ply toilet paper.  It is big.  The circumference of a plum.  Maybe an orange.  It looks just like the mantel of a squid. 

I taught squid dissection to seventh graders.  Usually the third day of summer camp.  My voice would be hoarse by then and I would be downing hot chamomile with a squirt of vanilla.   Place the squid with the dorsal side up, I would say.  Identify the beak, the fins, the mantel.  Note how the ventral beak overlaps the dorsal beak.  What makes this beak different than a parrot’s beak?

Somehow finding this very real, scientific evidence makes me feel better.  The deep upwelling of pain that unexpectedly tingles my nose and makes the corners of my mouth tremor is because of something, not because of nothing.  I think I need proof that I’m not just making it all up.  Something tangible so that the doctor won’t look over the top of her red wire-framed glasses with eyes that say, You came in for this?  I don’t know why I live in dread of that look.  Maybe because I need validation- what you feel, that ache in your side, is real.  Is worth my time. 

I gently lay the single square of double-ply toilet paper face up in the trashcan next to the toilet.  Just in case I want to check on it later, to remind myself that it was real.  Just in case someone else wanted to see, to know that I wasn’t making it up.  But who would want to see that?  


I shove the paper deep into the rubbish bin.

The Romans Road, Four Spiritual Laws, and Jesus

But Zacchaeus stood and said to the Lord, “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded any one of anything, I restore it fourfold.” And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house.” Luke 19:1-10

The story of Zacchaeus is rather spectacular: offering kindness to a tax collector- ie, an oppressor of the people, disregarding local protocol of ceremonial cleanliness so that one lonely man feels particularly loved, a 360 degree change of lifestyle in response to Jesus’ extension of mercy. But with this last reading, one detail snagged my attention.

Zacchaeus is up in a tree. No respectable man in the Middle East would ever climb a tree…and if he did, he would certainly take GREAT effort to ensure that no one would see him. Clearly he was seen. Plan failed. I thought it was interesting that Jesus knew Zacchaeus’ name. But then I started imagining the town walking along the road…One person spots a shoe hanging down and starts laughing. He nudges the guy next to him and points out (probably using colourful language) that the number-one-town-enemy looks like a dinglebomb up in a tree. Soon everyone is jeering at Zacchaeus, calling out taunts, maybe hinting that he’s in a tree, easy enough to accidentally string him up. Jesus is an astute guy- it doesn’t take long to catch on to the murmuring and the scowls and the mean-spirited laughter.

So Jesus says, Hey, I’m going to your house for dinner. That’s it. He says something nice to Zacchaeus. He doesn’t explain the path to salvation using the Romans Road. He doesn’t delineate on the finer points of the Four Spiritual Laws. Jesus just says something kind and goes out of his way to make Zacchaeus feel special. Which is enough to move Zacchaeus to change, no- not even that, to move Zacchaeus to WANT to change. In those two minutes Zacchaeus doesn’t actually give every single person four times what he owes them- he just makes a statement about needing to live his life differently. And that WANT to change is what Jesus affirms. What Jesus affirms as salvation.

Which reminds me of that song lyric: It’s His kindness that leads to repentance. Which reminds me that it’s my kindness that acts as an extension of God’s kindness, which then leads to repentance. It’s me pointing out something good in a person, or being impulsively NICE (which, you know, is sometimes quite the stretch) that leads people to want to change their lives. It’s not me pointing out major flaws in their worldview schema that leads to change (which, you know, is sometimes exactly what I do).

This story challenges my idea of evangelism or the missional church- really forces me to look hard at the way I live my life. Do I talk a lot of theoretical, Foundational Truths of the Faith or do I act a lot by showing kindness- from the dinglebombs who would probably do well with a swift kick to the butt, to those People Who See Things Exactly The Way I Do. It’s embarrassing how often I sniff something about being busy or more open-minded and enlightened…and then simply walk away from individuals who are hurting or that need a friend. Those Pharisee Heather roots grow ever so deeply and ever so wrongly.

Social Catastrophe

Martha had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to all he said.

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord said, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:38-41

The story of Martha and Mary. The story of the person who gets caught up with the business of life contrasted to the story of the person who chooses to be at the feet of Jesus, right? That’s what I wrote in the margin of my bible next to this story- “Doing contrast being.” Which is a message that is good for me to hear. Good for me to internalize. But maybe a slightly different story than what I always thought.

I was talking to a friend the other day about this passage. She had spent several months in Yemen and her main comment about Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus was, Man, what a social catastrophe that would have been. She went on to explain that in the Middle East when people come over to your house, the women all go in the back room and then men all go into the front room. Women could MAYBE be in the same room as their father and brothers, but if there were non-immediate-family men in the house- no way. If a woman walked into the men side, all the other women in the house would do everything they could to get the woman back into the girl room- the social humiliation of having a woman sitting with a man would be too great. It would reflect very badly on the family.

This comment caught in my brain. Mostly likely Martha wasn’t so concerned about getting all the food ready. Mostly likely Martha was concerned that Mary was tarnishing the family name.

I can just imagine Martha standing at the door, desperately trying to catch Mary’s eye…first signalling with a little cough, then maybe a stamp of her foot, finally the audacious move of interrupting the men’s conversation in order to ask Jesus to send Mary out of the room. And what did Jesus respond? Martha, you are worried and upset about many things. Worried and upset about the family name. Worried and upset what people might think. Worried and upset about the virtue of her sister. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her.

What is it that Mary chose? She chose to sit at the Lord’s feet- an idiomatic expression used to describe a disciple learning from a rabbi. Like how Paul “sat at the feet of Gamaliel”- was a disciple of the Rabbi Gamaliel. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her. Jesus approved.

Approval. Isn’t that what we want? What I want, that’s for sure. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot, now that I’m a breath away from my master’s. Professors ask about the next step…I mumble something about a PhD. Grown up friends of my mom ask about the next step…I mumble something about kids. Old friends from college ask about the next step…I mumble something about getting out of the country. I mumble what I think they might like to hear- something that will intrigue them and think, yup, that girl’s on her way in the right direction. Approved.

But golly gee. Sometimes it feels like there are ten thousand landmines- somewhere, somehow, no matter what, people will be disappointed. But isn’t that just it. Those are the wrong stamps of approval. I have plop myself down in front of Jesus. I need to pour out all the festering, mosquito larva sludge water settled at the bottom of this broken vessel of a soul and have Him fill me up with water that is fresh. And living. And by abandoning the status quo of The Thing To Do, I can find approval. Jesus approves.