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Yep, I'm fairly certain I'm a Martha. Not my name, of course, but speaking in the biblical sense... as in Mary and Martha... I'm a dead ringer for her. The really strange thing is, this "Martha" personality didn't show up in my life until I became an adult. As a child, I was really pretty much a "take life as it comes" kind of kid. I was a fairly obedient, study when I should, practice my horn when I should kind of pre-teen. I wasn't terribly messy as a teenager, but then, you'd have to define "terribly." By my own definition, I was simply typical, and quite average.
It wasn't until I became responsible for my own education in college that the Martha in me began to show. She was full force by the time I hit grad school and had my own teaching job and apartment. I was doing all kinds of things without external motivation: studying to all hours, cleaning my little apartment, washing my car, budgeting my income, and writing lesson plans weeks in advance. Though I seemed oblivious to the subtle changes, they did not go unnoticed by those around me.
During my years as a band director, I wouldn't leave school for the day until all the chairs and stands were set appropriately for the first period of the next day. A schedule of music to be rehearsed was written on the board, and new music placed in the folders ahead of time so we wouldn't lose pecious practice time with all the little administrative tasks. I never thought of that as being compulsive... but rather simply being prepared.
Some odd quirks began showing up at home too. I can't tell you the number of times Tom set a glass down for a minute to do something or another, and returned to find it washed, dried, and back in the cupboard. "Oops. Sorry," came the response. "I thought you were finished with it." That wasn't nearly as bad as the goings on with the slipcover on the couch. There's no way a person can keep that thing from coming undone, not unless you have one custom-made with individual cushions! It was a beast to keep straight... and my total nemesis. I would eye it with disdain as people would sit down, fighting the urge to tuck it all back in, right around them!
Obsessive much?
Anyway... you get the picture. It's not really fair to attach the things I've recently described to the Martha in the Bible. We don't have a complete biography to work with in comparison. What we do know about her is that she tried her best to be a wonderful, considerate host, as we learn in Luke 10. The comfort of her guests was of great importance to Martha. She was a detail person, and making every little thing just right for Jesus' visit was all she could see. The only problem was, it wasn't comfort that was THE most important thing, not to Jesus.
I know you've heard the phrase, "You can't see the forest for the trees." I think that aptly describes Martha in that situation. Being a good host was important to her. It was her offering, but it became so important to her that she lost sight of the truest offering... a still and quiet heart... one that would sit, listen, absorb all that Jesus was saying. I think it's in that sense that I am most like Martha. I too am a detail person. It is important to me that I am a good host, that people feel welcome here in this place, that they feel special, and specially prepared for. It's the way I show love. It is my offering too.
I don't want to lose the forest for the trees though. The place is never as important as the people who gather there, and the details don't matter nearly as much as the desire to sit, to listen, to be truly present.
I am a work in progress. I may have been born a "Martha" but I am trying my best to become a "Mary"... especially this beautiful Advent season. Details are wonderful. The sparkle and glitz of the season can't be denied. There is a heightened sense of anticipation for all this Christmas season holds. The temptation is there to pull me away, to busy my hands with the most inconsequential of tasks, but I will not succumb. This year I will try to give my best offering to the One who offered everything for me, a still and quiet heart. May I simply sit at His feet with a Mary's heart...
and listen.
Ah, Dearest Jesus, Holy Child
Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled
Within my heart that it may be
A quiet chamber kept for Thee
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