The Good Portion | Sunday, May 3, 2026

Now it happened as they went that he entered a certain village; and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Jesus into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at Jesus's feet and heard his word. But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she approached Jesus and said, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me." And Jesus answered and said to Martha, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:38-42)

A simple story, easy to understand and hard to live: Jesus reminds the busy servant that one thing is needed first.

What Are You Worried About?

This is a short passage that I have found, both this weekend and in times past, to be personally challenging—and I think you might find it challenging too, because it confronts something we all wrestle with. It can be summed up in a simple question: what, if anything, are you worried about right now? Some of you are thinking, "Why remind me? It's not one thing—it's twelve things." A couple of you may say, "Jesus said don't worry, and Paul said be anxious for nothing, so I just don't worry." God bless you. For the rest of us, we find ourselves frequently anxious about many things.

There's a long list. The garage is messy. The tile is broken, the irrigation needs fixing. Many of our youth are preparing for finals; others are writing term papers. Maybe you have a bid out you're waiting to hear about, or you're the lead on a presentation. Maybe it's that strange sound in your car. All of us can be distracted, worried, and troubled by many different things. And there is a lesson here for those of us who struggle with that.

Easy to Understand, Hard to Apply

You don't need any Greek exegesis to understand this section. The story is simple. But this is one of those texts that is easy to understand and difficult to apply. To be honest, I'm rather terrible at applying it. Why? Because I'm an American.

More than twenty years ago I taught at a small international Bible school in northwest Germany, and I discovered that Europeans often look at us and say, "You guys are workaholics." There's truth to that. As we mark the 250th anniversary of our nation, even secular historians say the Protestant work ethic has pushed this nation to achieve amazing things. We sent astronauts around the moon; no other nation has done that, and we put men on the moon more than fifty years ago. That "go and get it done" mindset means we always have many things on our minds—things we want to do and need to do—and they weigh on us.

So the challenge of this passage is not understanding what it says, but how to frame it so we hear what God wants to say to us. This is not a word against hard work. It is not an endorsement of idle inactivity, nor a rebuke of active service. Rather, it reminds us that there is an order to things that matters. It doesn't teach us to do fewer things—it tells us to do the right things first.

The Myth of Doing Less

We have lived through a massive technological revolution that promised we wouldn't have to do as much, because machines would do so much work for us. How many of you actually do less now as a result? I don't see a single hand. The promise of "you will do less" has instead made us more productive, and as we become more productive, we fill the gaps with more things—and the expectations on our work increase from those over us.

This is now hyperscaling with artificial intelligence. The Harvard Business Review reported in February on two researchers from the Haas School of Business at Berkeley who spent eight months observing a 200-person tech firm in Silicon Valley. The hypothesis was that AI would shrink the workforce. That's not what happened. It increased the workload, because people became productive at levels they'd never reached—5x or 10x their output—and so they simply did more work on top of that, and the expectations followed. Instead of being released from their jobs, they got burned out.

God never made us to work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The computer systems we employ can do that, and it pushes us to feel we should too. That Protestant work ethic drives us until we have no margin, and when we have no margin, we have very little life. My wife and I wrestle with this. When our kids were little they watched Veggie Tales, and there was a song—"I'm so busy, busy, dreadfully busy; you've no idea what I've got to do." We sing that to each other from time to time. We can find ourselves much too busy for one another. I feel myself wrestling with this right now.

A Good Servant After the Good Samaritan

It's interesting that this passage follows the Good Samaritan, because here we are introduced to a good servant. Martha and Mary appear elsewhere in the Gospels, twice in John. In John 11—a beautiful passage—we learn these sisters had a brother named Lazarus, who fell ill and died. Jesus arrived after Lazarus had been in the tomb for days, and Martha said, "If you had been here, my brother would still be alive." That conversation leads to one of the seven "I am" statements: "I am the resurrection and the life." Lazarus is raised, and we see Martha and Mary again in John 12.

From those passages we learn that the "certain village" Jesus entered was Bethany, just a few miles east of Jerusalem over the Mount of Olives. Three times a year faithful Jewish families went up to Jerusalem for the feasts—Passover in spring, Pentecost in early summer, and the fall feasts. The city would swell, and many pilgrims stayed in surrounding villages. Jesus likely stayed in Bethany at the home of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. So when we find Jesus at Martha's home in Luke 10, it is probably during one of the feasts of Israel.

Martha Serves, Mary Sits

We're told Martha welcomed Jesus into her house. Martha was a hospitable entertainer. Some of you know a Martha; some of you are a Martha. The Martha in my life is my wife—she loves to open the home and welcome people in. If you have that same gift, you should be a Connect Group host. Talk to Pastor Mark and Pastor Nick afterward; you'd be right in your lane.

Martha's mode is serving. In John 12 we read, "Then six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany... and there they made him a supper, and Martha served. But Lazarus was one of those who sat at the table." And then Mary—Mary is where Mary always is—"took a pound of very costly spikenard oil and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped them with her hair, and the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil." The home of Martha and Mary and Lazarus was frequently filled with the smell of Martha's perspiration and Mary's perfume. That's the scene, as it always seems to play out.

Some of you already don't like Mary. Why is Martha always hard at work while Mary seems to be doing nothing? It made me think of my own upbringing in the American education system in the 1980s and 1990s. In 1979, the year I was born, the Department of Education was founded, and to meet equity goals it shifted education from the merit of individuals toward group work. If you grew up then, you experienced group work—and if you were like me, you hated it, because every group seemed to have a lot of Marys who got a good grade while the Marthas picked up the slack.

"Mary Also Sat at His Feet"

The text says Mary "also sat at Jesus's feet and heard his word." That word also stood out to me. It highlights the contrast between Martha, busy about much serving, and Mary, apparently inactive. You could almost render it: "And Mary—notice this—she sat at Jesus's feet." This is noteworthy because the position Mary takes is the position of a disciple with a rabbi, which in the first century was generally only for men. Jesus doesn't forbid it; He allows Mary also to sit and learn from Him.

If anyone noticed this contrast, it was Martha. Every time she came in from the kitchen, the only thing she could see was Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus. The text says she was "distracted with much serving." That word means to be overburdened, and it implies being dragged or pulled away from what you would like to do. Have you felt that? There's something you wish you could do, and there's Mary doing exactly that, while so many other things demand your attention. Martha wanted to sit at the feet of Jesus too, but she couldn't—she was dragged away because things needed to be done. Many of us live in that place, feeling the pull of Martha.

Neither One Was Doing Wrong

Here is the conflict. The wrong way to read this text—and some commentators do—is as a rebuke of servants like Martha. Martha is doing a good thing. She deserves not condemnation but commendation. All through the Scriptures, especially the Old Testament, hospitality is highly valued among the people. In Eastern and Middle Eastern cultures it's a high value. She's not doing anything wrong; she's doing many things right.

But the added challenge is that Mary isn't doing anything wrong either. She is doing exactly what she ought to be doing, even though there are other things she could have been doing. So we can't simply say, "Martha, stop," and "Mary, stop." That's not what the text teaches. There's something more here to understand.

"Lord, Do You Not Care?"

Martha can't see anything except Mary not helping. So she does something about it. You can assume she had been hinting for a while—dropping a plate in front of Mary, "Come help me in the kitchen"—but the hints weren't landing, because Mary was listening to the teaching like everyone else. So Martha levels up: "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me." That's going to the boss.

Here's point one: my service is no longer God's service when my focus is shifted to myself and others. We know that's what has happened by the way Martha speaks. "Lord, do you not care?" There's a lot implied there. And the words hit harder when she moves from a question to a command: "Tell her to help me." She's commanding Jesus. I'm sure no one here besides me has ever had that kind of conversation with the Lord—"Lord, you are not doing this right. This is not how it's supposed to work."

It has been rightly observed that the real test of servanthood is when someone treats you like a servant. When we serve, what we really want is affirmation and appreciation. When that doesn't come, the servant moves from feeling appreciated to feeling angry. Martha felt completely justified—we know because she came to Jesus expecting Him to say, "You're right, Martha. Mary, get in there and help your sister." That is not what she got.

"Martha, Martha"

Jesus didn't address Mary. He turned back to Martha: "Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things." There are many ways to read His tone, but I believe the proper way is tenderness and compassion, with a refocusing challenge. Scripture repeats names like this elsewhere—"Simon, Simon, Satan has desired to sift you as wheat" (Luke 22:31). In every case there's deep affection and recognition: "I see you and I know you." But within that grace there is also a small correction.

This gives us point two: good things become troubling things when they produce more worry than worship. Martha was doing a good thing by serving Jesus and His guests. The problem was that her good actions had become the rule by which she measured everyone else's actions or inactions.

This is the danger anytime we begin to serve the Lord and His people—in children's ministry, on the security team, the tech or sound team, a short-term trip. When you step out to serve, one impulse that creeps in is judging everyone else by what you do. Your service, given to the Lord as worship, becomes the measuring rod for other people's activity or inactivity. I've seen people fall into this trap a thousand times. The moment they start serving, they look around and think, "How come you're not doing what I'm doing?"

A Sequence Problem, Not a Service Problem

Martha was certain Jesus would side with her and rebuke Mary. Instead He says, "Martha, you have a you problem. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her."

We have the contrast between the many things and the one thing. I routinely fall into the trap of being focused on the many things to the exclusion of the one thing—and then the many things take on a nature they were never meant to have, because I've missed the one thing. This is one of the major hazards of serving the Lord, and every servant of God wrestles with it, especially pastors.

Point three: the many things find their proper place only when the one thing comes first. This is the easy-to-miss reality. This is not a passage about doing fewer things—there were still things that needed to be done. It's about doing the right thing first. Misread, it can either heap guilt on overworked volunteers for not being contemplative enough like Mary, or encourage the chronically passive to feel justified in their inactivity. Neither is what Jesus intends.

The weary, troubled, chronically worried person like Martha doesn't get that way by serving too much. They get that way by losing sight of why they're doing it and who they're doing it for. When things get out of order and we miss sitting at the feet of the Savior, our busy work becomes the thing we think gives us status and standing with Him—when in reality we have status and standing only because of what our Savior did for us. When we've sat with Him and seen that, our service flows as worship and not as duty. As Paul says, "Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men." Martha didn't have a service problem; she had a sequence problem. Her things were simply out of order.

"That Good Part"

Notice Jesus doesn't say Mary chose the better part. He says she chose that good part, and it will not be taken away from her. Imagine the moment: a room full of people, Jesus teaching as they recline together, Mary among the listeners. In comes Martha—red, sweaty, flour on her forehead—and every eye shifts to her. "Lord, do you not care?" The eyes move to Jesus. "...that I'm working and Mary's not?" The eyes shift to Mary. Everyone waits for Jesus to say, "Mary, get up and help." Instead He says, "Martha, Martha." That's not what Martha expected, and I don't think it's what Mary expected either. She was probably bracing for a rebuke that never came.

Martha wasn't doing wrong by serving—she was doing a good thing. But she missed the moment. She lost sight of what her service was all about and thought, for that instant, that Jesus didn't care. He did.

The Order Matters Everywhere

I have fallen into Martha's pattern many times. There will always be many things and much serving, but one thing truly is needed. That one thing is the key that helps me see that the many things and the much serving are done not out of duty to earn favor or position with God, but as worship because of what He has done for me. When I sit first at Jesus's feet, then my service becomes worship and not duty. The order matters. It's a hard one for me to learn.

This isn't only true in so-called ministry. It's true wherever you find yourself working this week—a classroom, an office, a construction site. "Whatever you do in word or deed, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men." How might your workplace—and the frustration you feel with coworkers or supervisors—change if you began to realize, "I'm not doing this for men, but for God; it's out of worship that I do what I do"? It's a reframe that radically transforms the way I see my work. God help me. I am challenged by this every time I read it.

Closing Prayer

God, thank you for this passage of Scripture. There's a lot here to think about and wrestle with. I pray we wouldn't soon forget it as we leave this place, and that you would encourage and challenge us with it. Lord, help us realize that the work we do is good. Vocation is something you created before the fall; you've given us a task and what we need to accomplish it. The challenge comes when we start to measure ourselves or others by the tasks we do and not by the standing we have with you—image bearers created by you and for your purposes. Would you reform and transform our thinking, so that we work as worship and not merely as duty to earn a better standing or position. God help us, we pray. We ask this in Jesus's name, and all those who agree said, amen.