I Agreed with Martha on that Case.

There I was in the kitchen that day trying to finish up the evening meal later than usual. I can’t remember the reason for that. I’m managing the low-shining torch light while cutting this truckload of vegetables.

I had done the first stage of washing, but I still needed someone to pick the vegetables so I could be quick with cutting. There was stew on the stove behaving like a teething baby. The moment I stepped away, it began to burn in protest.

All these and I had two sisters somewhere in the house. Two teenagers. Two. Four hands. Somewhere.

I was vexed cause I felt my sisters could be of good help but I had tried unsuccessfully to get them there. I would shout for them; they would come running but instead of waiting after the specific duty I had assigned them, they would run off again leaving me alone.

Then I would scream again and the cycle would continue.

Finally, I was fed up. So I marched to the balcony where they were with my dad who had returned home earlier than usual and was narrating stories from his youth.

Was I smiling when I faced him? You guess. But I was smart enough to direct my tirade in the right direction. “What are you people doing?! Don’t you know you should be helping me in the kitchen?! And Daddy, please tell them to join me in the kitchen!”

My voice must have said it all: I had no patience for even an excuse. My dad actually looked cowed that evening. Immediately, he told them it would be wise that they join me in the kitchen, “Later, I’ll continue the story.”

Thus, releasing a set of angry humans to me. The girls were no good help at all. They sulked as they worked and stared angrily at me when there was nothing to keep them busy.

When they finally sneaked out again, I pretended not to notice.

My decision to let the storytelling group be was not because I was done needing them because I wasn’t. I was just tired of trying.

I was angry because I felt they were all (including my dad) making me into a bad person when all I wanted was to be quick in the kitchen then we could all hear the stories together.

Plus there was that huge chance that it was already a story we’ve been told thousand times before.

I was clanging and clanking objects noisily when it flashed in my mind- Martha’s story. I paused, then nodded aggressively. I was totally with Martha on this one.

For that moment, I felt her POV. Jesus messed up there. The work won’t do itself, after all. Those were duties that needed to be done. Imagine after telling the story there was no food to eat. The storyteller and listener would then be vexed.

What if Mom came back and my reason for not cooking was because dad was telling a story? I’d be the fool alone. Or like Martha, what if word got out that their household was not hospitable enough for letting the Master go hungry?

Or later in the night, when their mates are resting, they’re the only two in the whole of Israel, noising around in the name of cooking. They would be the town gist for the week.

See, as an older sibling, I could relate- We would never let that happen. So yes, Jesus should have stood with her. He should have kicked Mary right there into the kitchen.

I did miss my dad’s story time because by the time I was done, mum was back and my parents were doing their usual discussion of the day. Then the generator was put on and when the generator comes on in my house, it’s a time for movies, not stories.

I did the next best thing. I ranted and screamed in my head. Serving dinner and mumbling. (I’m currently laughing as I write this. Those days were so silly, they’re hilarious.)

When my ranting was done, I had eaten and was finally calm, I did realize Jesus’ POV.

I realised Jesus’ case was not the same as mine.

First off, he was not telling stories or dispensing moral lessons but “words of life.” The same words that hold the foundation of the world, are still capable of doing and undoing.

Second, Jesus was not trying to be mean. He understood orderliness and priority. “There’s a time for everything.” That period was not one for servicing, it was a time for learning. If she did not get the order right, she might serve and without the root to stand, she would fall sooner or later.

So, though I stood with Martha briefly, I changed positions soon enough. It is important to understand time and seasons. A man looking for harvests when he should be planting will search forever.

The time spent with God, learning from him should be Superior to the time spent working for him and trying to please him. Our presence at his feet, with a willing heart, is the first pleasure he takes from us. The second is the work HE does IN us.

Are you trying to work for a man you’ve made jobless? Not right, I tell you.

Don’t forget to comment 💓. Be blessed.