By Sandra Bost
Two stories from the Bible stay close to my heart–both as a warning and encouragement.
One is the story of the prodigal son. That story meets me from different angles depending on the season of life or the circumstance I find myself in. When I am feeling like the reluctant daughter of my Good Father, I remember the daddy who runs to his child – the scoundrel – when he sees him coming from a long way off. It brings to mind the longing of my Father’s heart to see me turn back to Him, and the undeserved grace and forgiveness He lavishes on me – no matter how big a scoundrel I’ve been.
But there is another character in that story that brings warning – and it’s not the obvious prodigal who wasted his life and fortune chasing after worthless things, though, at times, maybe it should be. Instead, it’s the big brother. The one who looks, for all intents and purposes, like he’s doing it right. He is, afterall, the one who is still home with the father. The one taking care of his father’s affairs and working the land. The one who is filled with an underlying entitlement that rears its ugly head when he observes his dad throwing a lavish party for–not him–but his wayward brother.
Big bro can’t contain the anger in his heart when he finds out about the party that his daddy is throwing for this “other son”, as he so affectionately refers to him in Luke 15. The “sin of doing it right”–also known as pride–as Tim Keller famously explored in The Prodigal God. Keller warned that the elder brother is just as lost as the younger one–it’s simply harder to see because it’s wrapped in good behavior. Oof.
Anyone else?
That’s the warning: the idea that you can stay in the Father’s house and still be miles away from the Father’s heart. I don’t know about you, but I want to be close to His heart. Unfortunately, I am a scoundrel to the core, and I struggle–every day–with the self-righteous idea that I’m standing on some kind of (shifty) moral high ground.
The lesson is deeply multifaceted, but at its core, we see the father go out to meet both sons. The Grace of The Father is required for the rebellious and the religious–and He gives it willingly–lavishly.
The second story that comforts and warns me is the story of Mary and Martha. Depending on the season of my life–or even the day of the week–my Marth-ometer has a tendency to go off the charts. I have identified with Martha and felt sorry for her. I have misjudged Mary and aspired to be like her. Honestly, I go back and forth about the two. (And don’t even get me started on Lazerus–who had to be unwound and resurrected!)
I’ve talked about these sisters with lots of sisters – mommas. Women that understand Martha’s mantra – ”a woman’s work is never done.” She was doing what was right (there’s that word again) what had to be done. But Mary was also doing the right thing, according to Jesus in Luke 10. In fact, he says Mary was doing what was better. He even goes so far as to say that Martha is “worried and upset” by all of the preparations that had to be made.
The more I think about it, the more frustrated I can become. But I heard Jackie Hill Perry talk about this passage on a Facebook post back on Jan. 19. She said that the word “distracted” first caught her eye. She also – rightly – pointed out that Martha’s first interaction with Jesus when she sees Him is to question his concern for her. Like, Seriously, Martha?
But then, Jackie made the best point I have ever heard about this passage. Going back to the word “distracted”, she said, “When you are distracted, it shapes the things you ask of God.”
She explained that Martha thought she needed her sister’s help, but what she actually needed was to sit at Jesus’s feet. It’s the idea of working from a place of rest – putting first things first and trusting second things to take care of themselves. If Martha had focused on Jesus first, her service would have been an extension of her worship, rather than a source of resentment.
Both of these stories – I just realized–are about siblings. Both of them have a resentful older sibling (ouch). And both of them beautifully point us to the goodness, grace, and love of Jesus. These stories invite us to pause and ask an uncomfortable but necessary question: Where am I today–running from the Father, resenting His grace, or distracted in His presence?
The challenge for all of us is the same: to lay down our pride, our busyness, and our need to prove ourselves, and to draw near to the heart of the Father. Not just to live in His house, not just to serve at His table–but to sit at His feet. May we be people who receive grace as freely as it is given, and who choose closeness with Jesus over the illusion of control, productivity, or being “right.”
