Choose the Good Thing: A Short Story

Hey, guys!

This time I decided to post a short story based off on Luke 10:38-42, which is the story of Mary and Martha, when Martha is preparing for Jesus. I had a lot of fun imagining how this could have played out, and I hope that you enjoy reading this! God bless y'all!

~Evelyn Knight

"Choose the Good Thing"

It was the day Jesus was expected to come.

There was so much to accomplish. What a meal she had to prepare! This was Martha’s main concern. She wanted everything to be in order. She had always loved a perfect preparation and today they would have just that. She was determined.

Martha sighed with contentment as she rolled up her sleeves and pulled back her long black hair. Only she and her sister would be the ones to help with the food. Lazarus was a pain in the kitchen, and besides he was getting some work done before everyone came. Martha began preparing the lamb they had killed for roasting.

Mary started working on the dough for this evening. They had already ground plenty of flour earlier in the day. They would need a lot of bread for Jesus and His followers. Mary pulled out the dough that had been prepared earlier, and started kneading it. She looked at her sister and smiled. “Jesus is coming soon, Martha.”

“Yes,” Martha replied simply and smiled back. She knew, and she would work her hardest to be ready. There would be no sloppiness today. Although Mary displayed her love and adoration for the Lord more easily, Martha still felt that excitement in her that she always felt before He came. Her hands trembled a little as she worked on the lamb.

Martha knew Jesus would be here in a few hours, but they had much to do. They would have to soak the lentils so that they would be soft for the stew. They would have to do so many other things as well. They could not possibly get everything done before He got there, but she would try her best. She hated the thought that He would come and be wearied with the delay. Or by a half-prepared meal.

“There are many people coming, remember?” Martha reminded her sister. “We must make sure everything is prepared.”

Mary nodded. “I will be glad to see them again.”

“Now, we need salt, garlic and cumin for the soup, olives, figs, dates–oh, we also need to roast some pistachios and almonds. Did you remember to get the figs from the market?”

Mary laughed as she folded and pounded the dough. “You want this to be a feast, don’t you? You are preparing all we have, Martha.”

Martha lifted her eyebrows. “Yes. I bought some fresh this morning.”

“Good.” Martha replied. “We’ll need a few more things as well. Cheese and–oh, I need to make that, I forgot. As soon as I get this lamb ready to cook, I will start on that. Would you start the stew after you are finished with the bread?” Mary nodded.

They were silent for a few moments, the thumping of the bread they kneaded gave an underlying rhythm to the work. Then Martha spoke up again, with a firm and low tone. “We have to work hard for Him,” she told her sister.

“And we must hear more of His teachings,” Mary added. “I wonder if He will explain one of the parables He taught the last time we heard Him.”

Martha shrugged. “Plenty of time for that after the meal.”

“Well, I would like to listen to Him teach while we prepare. Or we could take breaks after we get most of it done.”

“Again, we will have time for that later,” Martha replied matter-of-factly as she expertly cut the lamb meat.

Several hours later, Jesus and His followers arrived at the door. There were more than they expected, but Martha assured herself that they could prepare for everyone. She, Mary, and Lazarus greeted them and helped make them comfortable even in their small house.

Jesus began to talk with them, and Martha lingered a little, enjoying Jesus’ words. Soon, the conversation turned to questions, both from Lazarus and from the rest of the disciples. Jesus, in a compelling and unique way, gave answers. His teaching was deep and convicting, but also simple in a way. And there was something very attractive in the authority of His demeanor mixed with the kindness He always displayed. He was separate from them in another understanding, and yet He never seemed aloof. Instead, He seemed to draw them into His way of seeing things, and He seemed eager that they follow God’s way with all their hearts. Martha believed in Him as the Messiah, as both her brother and sister did. Not only did He speak the words of God, but He also did amazing miracles all over Israel. Martha was deeply honored to host Him in their home.

But she knew she couldn’t stay and listen long. She needed to have everything ready.

After setting out olives and roasted nuts that they had prepared, she went back to the small kitchen and kept working on the food. Bread was in the oven, but more needed to be made. Martha had left Mary with the rest of them, and she had been listening intently to Jesus’ words.

Martha bit her lip. She would let Mary have a few more minutes, since this was a special occasion.

Stirring the lentil stew, she added some spices and let it simmer in its large pot over the fire. She would need to check on the lamb, so that it would not be cooked too fast or too slow. The fire needed some stoking as well. Oh, and the cheese. She kept forgetting the cheese.

Martha stoked the fire and checked on the meat and bread. They seemed to be cooking well. But she would need to keep a close eye on them. She wiped her hands on a cloth, and started on the goat cheese. If Mary could start on some more bread … Where was Mary?

Frustrated, she took the goat cheese out of its cloth, where it had been thickening. She squeezed the moisture out of it. It was moist but crumbly. The perfect consistency. So she formed it into little squares for the meal. Then she pounded the dough herself, getting it into the right texture. She wanted to start on some more vegetables, but she had to get this done first.

As the minutes flew by, she started to fear that the dinner was not going to go as smoothly as she hoped. She wiped her hands and went to the corner where the others sat, listening to Jesus. Mary was still there, sitting, her face upturned to Jesus.

Martha, trying not to disturb everyone, tried to catch Mary’s attention. When Martha knew that Mary didn’t see her, she went over. Leaning over to whisper, she said,

“Can you help me in the kitchen? We need to get some things done. I need you out there.”

“Martha,” Mary’s eyes were alive with emotion, “can’t you hear what He’s teaching? You should stop preparing and listen. We need to hear this. You should hear this!” She couldn't keep her eyes off Jesus. "Maybe you should come and join us rather than just staying in the kitchen."

Mary's tone implied disappointment in her sister, but Martha wasn’t the one shirking her duty. Couldn’t Mary understand that? How could she ask her to leave her job?

Martha shook her head. “You know I can’t stay and listen. I have to prepare.” She pursed her lips together hard, then whispered a little gruffly, “Can’t you listen to Him later?”

“Martha, I want to listen to Him now,” she replied firmly. “The dinner is not as important as He is.”

Standing there, Martha felt the hot frustration rise in her body. Mary started to turn back to listen, but Martha spoke close to her ear. “Come over here for a moment.”

Mary sighed but got up, and they moved a little bit away. Before Martha could say anything else, she said, “I know you want things to be perfect–” Martha raised her eyebrows at that– “but can’t you see we need to listen?” She gestured back to Jesus, then continued in a low, serious tone. “It’s not every day we are able to have Him in our house. We need to hear Him.”

Martha grit her teeth and looked away. “Well, then, I’m going back to the kitchen.” The food was probably getting cold or burned or spoiled by now.

Mary sighed deeply and shrugged. But she went back to her own seat.

Martha turned on her heel and went back to the stuffy kitchen. She thought of Mary’s words as her hands moved mechanically. Yes, it wasn’t every day they would be able to host Jesus and listen to Him. She would grant her that. But it also wasn’t every day they could prepare a meal for Him. Her sister needed to understand that. And the meal needed to be better than a simple meal. She wanted to work hard and make something greater than that.

Martha checked on the bread, and to her dismay found that some of it was burned. She took it out and looked at it. She put her hands on her hips and sighed bitterly. If Mary would only help her, maybe she could take a break to listen to Jesus. Or maybe they would actually have a decent meal.

Gritting her teeth, Martha put away the burned bread. They could eat it later, but she would not serve that before everyone. As she went back and forth, trying to make everything ready, sweat glistened on her forehead and nose. Why couldn’t Mary help her with this? Her sister was acting as if none of this mattered. As if they could get along with teaching without food. As if they could let their guests starve and eat nothing. Well, she was not going to let Jesus starve. She would make something work.

She kept working.

More and more time passed. Martha added salt, cumin, onion, and garlic to the lentil stew. She cut up some cucumbers to add to the vegetables. The cheese seemed ready and most of the bread was ready. It seemed–but she had forgotten the lamb! She hurried over to check on it. She wrung her hands in frustration. It was cooked unevenly, and she had forgotten to add some spices. Oh, and speaking of things she had forgotten, she had not thought to get the drinks ready. She hadn’t gone in to hand out more nuts or fruit and everyone was probably wondering what the problem was. She rubbed her face in her hands, making her face even more hot and red than it was before. She was tired of feeling out of control and tired of being ignored by Mary.

She sighed bitterly. The dinner wouldn’t go well. It wouldn’t be the delicious meal that she wanted Jesus to have. Why did Mary have to leave her with everything? Did Mary not care that she was doing it all alone? She bit her lip. And what about Jesus? Didn’t He know that she was struggling back in this stuffy kitchen?

She firmed her jaw. She would go to Jesus directly. He would tell Mary to stop shirking responsibility.

Feeling a little comforted, she left the trouble in the kitchen and walked directly to where Jesus was.

As she got closer, she noticed that His face was alive and bright as He explained something to one of His disciples–Thomas was his name. Martha felt again the urge to sit and listen to this Man who was causing such a stir all over Judea. But she was hardened in her resolve when she saw Mary still sitting at Jesus’ feet, looking as if she did not have a care in the world. Anger boiled up inside her again.

She moved across the room closer to Jesus.

Jesus stopped speaking and the others grew quiet as she came closer. Martha was glad to be heard. She had been ignored long enough.

“Lord,” she said, with her hands on her hips, “do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone?” She pointed at Mary, and then looked back at Jesus. “Therefore, tell her to help me.”

Disbelief was written all over Mary’s face and she looked shocked that Martha was being so forward, but Martha stood her ground. She needed help with the food, and the sooner they got back to it the better.

Martha watched Jesus, expecting pity from Him for her situation. But what she saw confused her.

He did not look surprised. He did not seem ready to defend her side with righteous indignation. He didn’t even look over at Mary to correct her for her neglect.

With a gentle but almost pitying look in his eyes, He said, “Martha, Martha–” He spoke her name softly but the words seemed to hold unexpected disappointment– “you are worried and troubled about many things.”

She was taken aback. She was not asking for Jesus to say anything about her. This was not about her. This was about the meal and about Mary.

He went on, “But one thing is needed. And Mary has chosen that good part which will not be taken away.” His eyes locked with hers and all the frustration, anger, and self-pity was laid bare before His eyes.

Martha was silent.

The room was silent.

The hot shame burned her cheeks. Some part of her knew that the bread was probably burning again and that the stew needed to be stirred. But something else in her reprimanded her.

Was Jesus telling her that all of this did not matter? That they should forget about everything?

The practical part of her said yes. That He was being unreasonable and that He should have told Mary to help her. That He had no right to say this to her. But she knew He was. All her excuses suddenly felt hollow and petty.

She knew He was right. It was not easy to hear. But He was.

In all her preparation, in all her planning and working and sweating, she had missed it. She had missed the good thing, and she had forgotten that the Messiah was in her house teaching. She had forgotten that there was more than just a meal to prepare. Mary had known it, but she had forgotten. How stupid she must be.

She bit her lip hard and looked down. She knew everyone must be staring at her and judging her. They must be remarking to themselves what a mess she was. Maybe Jesus had turned away too.

She risked looking up and saw Him gazing at her. He did not look angry. His eyes were tender and caring. No judgment, just an invitation for her. To do what? He smiled at her. And a smile crept over her face slowly.

He sat down again. And continued to teach.

And after standing there for a long moment, Martha also sat. And she listened.

The meal could wait a few minutes...