Overwhelmed by Worry? Part Two

(Matthew 6:25-34, Luke 10:38-42 NTFE)

Worry is worry . . . 

Words from my last post. (click here to catch up)

Before I go any further, though, I promise this is not another post about the night my toilet betrayed me.

I’m putting it behind me, no pun intended.

In the rearview.

So back to my words about worry.

Worry is worry.

But there’s a spectrum.

Sometimes we’re able to hold our emotions in check – simple concern, unease, mild apprehension.

Other times we leap aboard a bullet train headed straight to overwrought. 

Guilty.

I don’t remember escalating as quickly or directly to overwrought when Ron was alive.

He was a steady sounding board.

Now though, with only myself to listen to, it’s easy to start believing everything I say.

Vaulting me high over the pole and landing me squarely on the mat of overwrought.

Ugh.

Looking to break the cycle, I settle into my quiet time.

Weirdly, because I’m not on the page where Jesus says this, I keep hearing a word He repeats there.

Actually, a name.

“Martha, Martha!”

Even though my name is Cindy, I’m pretty sure He’s talking to me.

And maybe you.

I thumb over to the story.

Martha welcomes Jesus into her home.

Surely her sister, Mary, will jump in to help.

Instead, Martha finds herself alone in the kitchen.

. . . frantic with all the work . . . NTFE

While dinner stews, so does Martha.

Emotions bubbling up.

Until she boils over. 

And marches herself in a beeline from the kitchen to Jesus.

“Don’t you care?

 That my sister has left me to do the work all by myself? 

Tell her to give me a hand!”

To which He replies:

“Martha, Martha,” 

“you are fretting and fussing about so many things.”

Here’s where it gets interesting . . .

Fretting and fussing, or merimnaó, is the same word Jesus uses in His Sermon on the Mount.

Six times.

In the do-not-worry-about-this-or-that-or-anything-else portion.

Merimnaó is inner agitation that results from being pulled on every side.

Literally going to pieces. 

Like Martha.

Pulled on every side and falling apart.

The disciples hold their breath.

Wondering how Jesus will handle Martha’s meltdown.

Because it’s one thing to say, “Do not worry,” and another to actually not worry when Jesus is looking right at you.

Instead of rebuke, I hear fondness in His voice and compassion for Martha.

And us.

When we’ve worked ourselves into falling apart.

Jesus continues.

“Only one thing matters. 

Mary has chosen the best part.”

A gentle invitation to Martha to do likewise.

Sit with Him awhile.

And inhale the truth.

That He does care.

Deeply.

For her.

And her tendency to bullet-train herself straight into going to pieces. 

The narrative ends here.

But I suspect the scene continues.

I picture Mary scooching over to make room for her sister, while Martha accepts Jesus’ extended hand. 

Stepping away, with great relief, from what has made her hot. The stove . . . and merimnaó. 

And stepping into peace at the feet of Jesus.

Leaning back in their seats, the disciples exhale.

Connecting the dots between the Teacher’s Sermon-on-the-Mount words concerning worry . . . and His love for the worrier.

And relishing, from their front row seat in Martha’s living room, the scene.

Of a Savior who treasures, above all, time spent talking with His children.

Mary.

Martha.

Me.

And you.

See you in a couple weeks.

Love,