There are some days where the last place I want to be is right in the presence of Jesus, or as the beloved apostle puts it, reclining next to Jesus. Instead of being a Mary, sitting and resting, looking at the gentleness of the kind saviour, I want to be a Mary, listening to the clatter of the dishes in the kitchen.*
A reason for this stems from an unwillingness to be chastised, or to rather not see the disappointed look in Jesus’ face.
I feel like Peter, falling on my knees and saying, ‘go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man.’
Prayer is no longer my friend. Guilt becomes my lover, and worldly sorrow is my unwanted acquaintance. In all this wandering and thirst in famine, there is one thing that always brings me back, Grace.
The Spirit begins to bring to my mind that Christ is not who I think He is. The Spirit reminds me that Christ would not break a bruised reed nor put out a flickering candle. Christ will not at this moment exile me with condemnation, but would nourish me with kindness and love. He is after all, our Saviour. And if He is Saviour, then He must save us from ruin.
This welcoming back is not without the sweetest of warnings, of the danger of sin, and the need of perseverance; but all this is said with eyes full of flaming love.
It is true if Christ said to me, that He hasn’t found my works to be perfect before his Father. I readily welcome such truths, and with wiped tears, I embrace my saviour who gave His life for me.
The Spirit, in grace, brings me back to Christ. I sit like Mary, warmed by the fire of Christ’s patience, gentleness, and dealings with me, which is infinitely better than the clatters of dishes in the kitchen.
K.Oni*You can read the story of Mary and Martha here: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+10%3A38-42&version=NIV