Over the last couple of posts, I’ve attempted to draw out some nuances of two biblical stories involving sisters in the hopes of capturing something I’m convinced is an important reminder for living the Christian life well.   The posts ended with two suggestions: be Mary as much as  possible, be Martha when it is good and right, but never be Martha without Jesus and then beware of Laban, who through veiled intentions disorders what is rightly ordered. 

In my experience, it is much easier to fall into the “role” of Martha, even though the “role” of Mary is much more important.  The church (and the world) needs more Marthas.  There is always more to do, more program slots to fill, more missional needs to meet.  Too often, the metric for faith (and faithfulness) is service.  There’s not much room for Marys; it’s almost like Mary-likeness is a phase to grow out of so you can get to work, the really good stuff.  And while “work” needs to get done, it’s the posture of Mary that is most vital and the root of every good thing.  It’s only when you burnout from the work that you feel any real freedom to “go back” to the Mary posture.  And even then, it feels like there is a time limit to how long you can stay there.

Which brings us to Rachel, Leah, and Jacob, or more importantly to Laban.  Jacob is in love, so much that he works for that love.  It is Laban, though, who is the pivotal figure in this part of the story.  He disorders what is good (and what has been promised) for something that is effective, practical, and kind of “kills two birds with one stone” when it comes to his daughters.  It is the expedient thing.  His work is done with deception and results in surprise and disappointment.  In my experience, Labans (or at least a “Laban spirit”) are everywhere, promising one thing but delivering another.  In the life of Christian faith, it is swapping the Mary posture out and swapping in a Martha posture.

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One of my favorite moments in the 80s classic Stand by Me is a quick exchange between Gordie and Chris, when Gordie is questioning his desire to be a writer.  Chris responds:

Wish the hell I was your dad. You wouldn’t be goin’ around talkin’ about takin’ these stupid shop courses if I was. It’s like God gave you something, man, all those stories you can make up. And He said, “This is what we got for ya, kid. Try not to lose it.” Kids lose everything unless there’s someone there to look out for them . . .

I think about that last line a lot, and definitely have over these last few years.  Not from a professional perspective, but from the perspective of the Christian life.  A gift has been given, but that gift requires protection from outside forces, even (at times) from those we have been entrusted to.  The world is full of Laban’s who want to throw into disorder what has been rightly ordered by Christ.  And we often lose it without realizing it, or we are made to think that the right order is actually the wrong order.

So who fights for us, especially when we don’t know how to fight back ourselves?  Who looks out for us, especially if we find ourselves in a culture full of Marthas?  And how do we engage in this necessary conversation without coming across as victims?  More on that next post.