And in the end…there is love.

Last Sunday, the pastor mentioned Martha during the sermon. I honestly can’t remember what was said, because my mind immediately went off on the Martha tangent.

I think Martha gets a bad rap…kind of like Thomas. Maybe it’s because I see so much of myself in Martha, but I don’t think Jesus treated Martha the way we treat her today.

I imagine that fateful day when Martha and her family were welcoming Jesus and his disciples into their home. I think about her rushing from the bread baking in the oven to the stray sandals heaped in the doorway. I wonder if she had a list that kept growing longer.

I imagine the annoyed looks she must have shot Mary’s way as the crowd gathered in their home. I wonder if she was jealous–if she wanted to sit at Jesus’ feet too. But there was so much to do.

I imagine the moment she grew so annoyed, she couldn’t take it anymore. The moment she went to Jesus, leaning close, imploringly, expectantly.

Here’s the part where I think we have it wrong. I don’t think Jesus spoke sharply to Martha. I don’t think he laughed at her, calling the room’s attention to her mistake. I don’t think he nudged his friends so they could listen to him give her an earful.

I imagine that Jesus took Martha’s rough, work calloused hands in his. I imagine that he spoke quietly, lovingly. I believe he corrected her, but as a father corrects a child. Gently. I imagine her eyes filled with tears. Not because she had been shamed. But because the Creator, her Savior, loved her enough to correct her–to point her in the right direction. To teach her to worship.

But that’s just my interpretation. Because I’m a lot like Martha. And that’s the way Jesus deals with me.

Praise the Lord.