Stop trying to do so much good

“…you are worried and upset about many things. But only one thing is necessary.”–Jesus Christ (Gospel of Luke 10.41b-42a).

These words puzzle me greatly.

The Gospel of Luke records Jesus saying them when he’s a guest in the home of a woman named Martha. We know that Jesus always travels with an entourage, so we may safely assume that Martha is hosting all of them. In the story, she is making “preparations,” which sounds like she is making a meal to feed her many guests.

Martha has a sister, Mary. As Martha is busy on her feet, Mary is sitting down at the feet of Jesus, “listening to what he said.”

How do you feel about this scene?

My wife will tell you exactly how I feel. I grew up watching my mom’s Southern hospitality in action. She entertained thousands of guests in our home. One thing Mom taught me: You always roll out the red carpet for guests. Making them feel comfortable and welcome lets them know how much they matter.

So I pull out all the stops whenever people come to our home. I often do most of the cleaning, cooking, and serving. It’s not that my wife doesn’t want to do these things. Admittedly, most of the time I don’t let her. Let the man with the Southern DNA and Southern upbringing do his Southern thing.

It’s my fault that after several years of telling my wife to “just give me room, please” that she doesn’t bother coming in the kitchen anymore. Even so, in the heat of preparing a meal, I confess some perturbation when I see her visiting while I work.

So I get Martha. In fact, I like her. She reminds me of…me.

That’s why this story puzzles me so much. Martha is doing what I would do if guests arrived at my house. Martha is doing what my mom would do (and who could question that?). She’s practicing hospitality, rolling out the red carpet. She’s making her guests feel at home.

What’s wrong with that? I can’t see anything wrong with it. All I can see is what is right with it.

Yet Martha–and I–receive the gentle correction of Jesus.

Perhaps the clue is in this statement from the gospel story: “…Martha was distracted by her many tasks” (Gospel of Luke 10.40 HCSB, emphasis mine). Later, Jesus tells Martha she is “worried and upset about many things” (10.41).

The other day I was thinking about how to better manage myself so I can do more. I say the “other day.” What I should say is that I’ve been thinking about this for 30 years to no avail. No matter how well I manage myself, I can never come up with enough of me to do all the things I feel like I should be doing.

The problem is not that I have so many unimportant things to do that I don’t get around to doing the important things. No, the problem is that I have so many things to do that are important. Picking a few important things to do from a long list of important things to do feels like choosing between my children.

Like Martha, my intentions are good. I mean well. I sincerely care.

But too many good things become a distraction. Too many good things turn into me being “worried and upset about many things.”

Jesus finishes teaching Martha by saying: “…few things are needed–indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Gospel of Luke 10.42 NIV, emphasis mine).

In our American culture, we learn early that to do good, we must do more. Another way to put it: Good people do more good things. And it’s not enough to do the same number of good things today as you did yesterday. If you’re really good, you’ll figure out how to do more good things today. It’s not enough to have a good heart; you must have the mind of an MBA or process engineer so that you can do more and more and more.

That’s the American ethic.

The Christ ethic, however, appears to be upside down of that. Jesus Christ is clear: Doing too many good things quickly becomes a distraction. Doing too many good things turns into self-preoccupation and the sin of worry. Doing too many good things turns us into judgmental, self-righteous nags.

Doing too many good things takes our eyes, hearts, and minds away from the source of all good things.

Against all common sense, the Christ teaches us to do less–perhaps much less–rather than more. The Christ teaches us to stop doing so much good that we forget that we ourselves are not the Christ.

The Christ teaches us to choose our “one thing” and stick with it. This seems like madness to an American achiever like me.

I’m beginning to believe that my lifelong quest to “do more” is not of Christ, but of a failed human system. I’m beginning to believe that if my aspirations and plans are to be truly Christian, they must become simpler, singular, smaller.

What a relief!

And what a challenge to how I was born and bred!

How does this teaching strike you? Do you agree or disagree? What has been your experience with striving to do more (or less)?

Grace and peace.