Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Focusing strictly on the task at hand, Nehemiah didn’t even look up as the messenger approached. Not that he needed to. He didn’t. He already knew who it was. The man had been there before. Three times before. Sent by the same man. Carrying the same message. Nehemiah’s answer hadn’t changed. It never would. From the first request to the fourth appeal, he had returned the same response. He wasn’t meeting them. Not in his own town. Not in another town. Certainly not in some clandestine place where he would be alone with his enemies. It was a trap. They knew it. He knew it. And he was busy. Very busy. The doors in the wall wouldn’t build themselves. The work needed to continue. It was the reason he was there.

Nehemiah had constructed his entire trip around this mission. Rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem and creating a safe place for the people had been the urgent desire for which he had gained approval from the king. With his approval and permission, he had paved the way for Nehemiah’s journey, but not everyone loved that choice. Some people wished the king had kept him busy in the palace. Found something pressing for him to do. Refused to allow him to travel. Determined that the rebuilding of the wall was unnecessary. He didn’t. They hated it. Ruled by the fear of losing control over the returned exiles, they would do anything to derail the reconstruction of the wall. Including harming, even killing, the ringleader. It was the reason they sent that initial message. 

Deep in his work and the exhilarating imaginations of a vibrant, healthy city, Nehemiah didn’t hear the fifth messenger approaching. It still didn’t surprise him. Sanballat and Tobiah were nothing if not tenacious. Frustrated with his continued refusal to meet them in private, they sent an open letter. It was full of ludicrous accusations and vivid inventiveness. Not one part of it was founded in truth. The wall was not being rebuilt to create a fortress from which to stage a rebellion. Nehemiah was absolutely not planning to crown himself king. No one was running around encouraging the people to anoint him as such. And, frankly, Nehemiah already knew alleged reports about his activities were going back to the king. They were false. The only grain of truth was that the wall was being rebuilt. Quickly. None of this was enough for him to risk his life attending an ill-advised meeting with the very men who so deeply resented him and his work. 

The whole thing was a fear tactic. Lies formulated to intimidate the men working with Nehemiah on the wall. Insinuations that their actions would lead to punishment. Hope that these false accusations and threats of reports to the king would result in the people no longer being willing to finish the project. It didn’t work. They didn’t stop. If anything, Nehemiah and his men went to work harder and more efficiently than before. They wanted to finish. They needed it done. Their determination to rebuild spurred them on in the face of the lies against them. 

Realizing their efforts to halt the project were to no avail, Sanballat and Tobiah tried again. More lies came. Even from places Nehemiah didn’t expect. Like Shemaiah, son of Delaiah. A fellow Jew and occupant of Jerusalem, Nehemiah didn’t expect Shemaiah to cause trouble from within. When his urgent message arrived stating he was confined to his house and requesting a visit, Nehemiah agreed. He wished he hadn’t. He wished he had considered it a little longer. Prayed a little more. Listened to God’s voice more closely. It took nearly no time to realize he should have given Shemaiah the same answer he gave Sanballat’s multiple messages. He was busy. He should have stayed at home. 

Too late, Nehemiah realized he had walked into a trap. Shemaiah wasn’t in desperate straits. His request for an audience wasn’t urgent. He was up to no good. Pockets bulging with the payment of Sanballat and Tobiah, his motive was to do just one thing. Stop the work by any means possible. Discredit Nehemiah. Make him sin. Make him run away. Do whatever it takes. Just stop the work. And he got farther than Sanballat ever did. He got Nehemiah to stop working long enough to visit, hear him out, and listen to his predictions and suggestions. Not that it changed the answer. It didn’t. Nehemiah’s response was basically the same one he had given to every message, every threat, every insinuation of evil intent on his part. Recognizing the lies, Nehemiah said, “No.” (Nehemiah 6:1-13)

No, neither of them was in imminent danger. No, they didn’t need to run into the temple and bolt the doors to hide. No, there was nothing Shemaiah could do to make Nehemiah sin. Because Nehemiah was prayed up and in tune with God. His eyes were opened to the lies taking place around him. He realized the trap set to make him sin, and he wasn’t having it. He wasn’t going to allow the lies of his enemies to trick him into doing something that would jeopardize his relationship with God. He wasn’t going to sin. He wasn’t going to put his faith in the words and recommendations of people. No. Nehemiah knew his God. Knew His words, His ways. Recognized His voice. And this wasn’t it. Not God’s voice. Not God’s message. Not God’s will. Not God’s way. 

Had Nehemiah not devoted so much time to communication with God, he likely would have fallen prey to these lies. It would have been easy to do. Although the first few messages might have been easily brushed aside, the fifth message packed a punch. Its contents had the power to be alarming. The threats had the potential to send him spiraling into panic. Feeling the necessity to defend himself and his reputation, Nehemiah might have actually gone to that fateful meeting. But he didn’t. Because he knew his God. He knew His voice. He knew His will. He knew he was exactly where God wanted him to be, doing exactly what God wanted him to do. He rested in the peace of that knowledge. The lies did not affect him. At all. Sanballat’s words didn’t pass the litmus test of truth, so Nehemiah stayed home. 

Nehemiah should have responded the same to Shemaiah’s request, although one can hardly fault him for capitulating to the visit. For all intents and purposes, Shemaiah was a friend. A Jew. A returned exile. A resident of Jerusalem. A man on the right side of the wall. Nehemiah had no way of knowing he had colluded with the enemy until Shemaiah opened his mouth. It was obvious then. A friend wouldn’t threaten you. A friend wouldn’t use lies and fear tactics to manipulate you. A friend would not seek to discredit you and ruin your reputation. A friend would never blatantly attempt to draw you into sin. Yet that is exactly what Shemaiah did. Using fear and lies, he attempted to engage Nehemiah’s fight or flight and draw him into sin. It must have been a harrowing moment. Audible threats and lies flowing from Shemaiah. Sanballat’s words reverberated in his mind. It is impressive that Nehemiah found the ability to pause and weigh the words. But he did. Weighing them against everything he knew to be true about God, about his mission, and about the messengers around him, Nehemiah rested in the truth he knew and recognized the lies. 

Centuries before Jesus was born, before He began His earthly ministry, before He would ever speak the words, Nehemiah knew the peace of the truth He would offer. “Come to me, everyone exhausted, worried, scared, and panicked by the endless barrage of interpretations, opinions, and ideas around you. I will give you rest.” From all of it. Every terrifying spiel. Every fearmongering word. Every trick that tries to derail your faith and fracture your soul. I will give you rest from it all. I will give you wisdom and discernment. I will help you sift through the reports and recommendations of podcasts, preachers, and pundits. I will lead you to the truth. Truth that sets you free from the knee-jerk reactions of worry and fear over every post, reel, and report that comes across your screen. I will teach you to know the truth and recognize the lies. Come to me. Make your home in me. I will give you my inalienable peace. (Matthew 11:28; John 14:27; 15:4)

Finding peace is what it is all about. That is what makes the ability to recognize lies so important. For everyone. No matter where you go, who you talk to, or what articles you read, everyone is searching for peace. In the world. In their lives. In their hearts. There is so much turmoil, so much stress, so much angst, fear, and anxiety. Chaos erupts among us. Corruption flows around us. Concerns rise to meet us. Contradictory reports overwhelm us. The future hangs suspended in a cloud of uncertainty. We are pushed and pulled by theories and opinions, unable to discern truth from lies. Until we find our rest in God. Until we come to Him. Until we give Him our cares. Until we place our lives in His capable hands. Until we learn to hear His voice above the cacophony of the world and rest in His immutable truth. Yes. There will be troubles and trials and tribulations in this world. Lies will saturate the narrative. It doesn’t make them true. They don’t get to shake you. When you are rooted and grounded in the truth of God’s Word, when you know Him and His voice, you can recognize and eradicate the lies and allow the peace of God to rule in your heart, no matter what is happening around you. (Psalm 29:11; Colossians 2:7; 3:15; John 16:33; Isaiah 26:3)

In His New Testament message, Jesus didn’t say, “Come to me and stress.” He said, “Come to me and rest.” He meant it. For the people then, living in times of upheaval and uncertainty. For us now, as we endure times of social, financial, and political volatility, instability, and discord. Jesus freely offers us the one thing for which everyone is searching. His peace. Peace that cannot be disturbed by the raging of the world. Peace that far surpasses human powers of comprehension. Peace that gives the presence of mind, the clarity of thought, the openness of soul to hear His voice and recognize the lies being sown among the truths. May you come to Him. May you know Him. May you make your home in Him. May the peace of God saturate your heart and mind and fill your soul with His rest. (Matthew 11:29; Jeremiah 17:7-8; Psalm 62:1-2; 91:1-2; Philippians 4:7; II Thessalonians 3:16; I Peter 5:7)    

They were back. Again. Maybe they never left. They seemed always to be lurking. Usually whispering. Regularly note-taking. Frequently nattering on about nothing in particular and everything in general. Their voices pitched just loud enough to be heard by the builders. Their words were chosen to incite, annoy, aggravate, and distract. Disruption appeared to be their sole purpose in life. From the moment Nehemiah’s plans for the wall had leaked to the public, Sanballat and Tobiah had made it their business to derail the effort. 

Confronting Nehemiah at the beginning of the project, they asked if he was stirring up a rebellion against the king. That would be the icing on their cake. If there was any proof Nehemiah was looking to start an uprising, stage a coup, or support a rebellion, it would be easy to shut him down. No king wanted that. No authority would stand for it. If there was something untoward going on, Sanballat and Tobiah were the guys who would find it. They wanted this project stopped. Immediately. That’s why they were there. Again. It’s why they never left. Ever.  Constantly hovering just beyond the work area. Watching the progress. Making notes. Eavesdropping on conversations. Daily growing angrier and angrier. 

As the gates were rebuilt, repaired, and replaced, they stewed. But they were just gates. As long as the wall itself was still in ruins, the gates didn’t matter. One could always climb over the broken remains to enter the city. Except the wall didn’t stay in rubble heaps. Slowly but surely, the wall was also being repaired, rebuilt, and replaced. Not by a travelling group of workmen, but by the men living nearest those sections. Each household appeared to be rebuilding its own piece of the wall. As if they were doing general fencing upkeep, the men of the house would come out and repair the wall across from their home as if they personally owned it and were responsible for its integrity. It was a frustrating dimension to Sanballat and Tobiah’s problem. It made keeping tabs on the progress more difficult. They could hardly be near every part of the wall at once. And the work wasn’t stopping. It was going much more quickly than they thought. And their anger, motivated by anxiety and fear of losing rank and authority, was multiplying. 

Sanballat was incandescent. Ranting to a group of friends and Samarian army officers, he berated the Israelites. Mocked them. Derided them. Called them names. He called their work worthless, useless. With no urging, Tobiah joined him. He had words to say, too. The work being done on the wall of Jerusalem was shoddy. He’d never pay to have those people work for him. Their wall would collapse under the weight of the tiniest fox, so poorly was it done. It was no wonder they didn’t already have their own city. Laughter ensued. Hope for the demise of the wall and an end to its restoration saturated the moment. But the words weren’t said in private. Those kinds of things never are. Sanballot and Tobiah weren’t privately meeting with their friends to discuss their grievances. No. It was a public meeting. Close enough for the workers to hear their words. Near enough for the jibes to fall on Nehemiah’s ears. A verbal attack with no physical engagement. It was meant to destroy the confidence Israel had in their project. It was meant to deter them from making more progress. It was designed to discourage their hearts and make them think twice about spending their valuable time rebuilding the wall of their city. 

Nehemiah heard the words they spoke. He couldn’t help it. They intentionally spoke loudly and in proximity to his workspace. He felt those words deep in his soul. Felt the attempt to sow defeat and despair. Felt his anger burgeoning toward Sanballat and Tobiah. Words thundered in his brain, sprang to his lips, tried to force their way out. He didn’t let them. Didn’t stop working. Didn’t react. Didn’t respond. Not a glance in their direction. Not a whispered rebuttal. Not a thundering indictment of their obvious insanity against God. Nehemiah didn’t engage them at all. He did what he had always done. What he had been doing since word came to him in the king’s palace that things were in bad shape back home. Nehemiah prayed. (Nehemiah 2:10, 19; 4:1-4)

Hearing from Hanani and his men that the people who had returned to Judah were in trouble and disgrace, and the wall of Jerusalem was in shambles, Nehemiah sat down and wept. Mourned. Fasted. Prayed. A lot. Night and day. He didn’t try to whitewash their sin or excuse their disobedience. He owned every second of their turning away from God. He also asked God to be with him. Guide him. Grant him the opportunity to speak to the king. Nehemiah couldn’t just march into the room and spill his request. Not even if he bowed low. Not if he sobbed. There was no instance in which the cupbearer would be allowed a sudden audience with the king. Unless God intervened. This is what Nehemiah was asking for: God to do His thing. Do His work. Go before him and soften Artaxerxes’ heart. Make it malleable. Fill it with compassion. Allow Nehemiah to speak words that would move the king to action on his behalf. He wasn’t about to try it on his own. Nehemiah simply brought his concerns and worries to God, placed them before Him, and stepped back so He could work. (Nehemiah 1:1-11)

It was exactly what he was doing this time, too. As the hate-laced words of Sanballat and Tobiah spewed venomously against them. Nehemiah prayed. Not because he was speechless. Not because he had no rebuttal. Not because his mind was too wounded to come up with snarling words to throw back. No. Nehemiah prayed because he had trained himself to pray first. In every situation. Before speaking. Before writing. Before responding. Nehemiah trained himself to bring the issue, the struggle, the pain, the aggravation to God. Turn it over to Him. Let it go. Leave it there. Let God be God. Trust Him to handle the situation, the people, the problem. Because Nehemiah knew, from personal experience, that fear, anxiety, and ill-advised words are never the answer. Prayer is.   

Not looking up from his work or engaging in the confrontation his enemy so clearly intended, Nehemiah prayed. Silently. Fervently. Poured out his heart to God. They were being mocked. Not just God’s people. God Himself. Nehemiah hated that. It put his back up. He wanted to stand up to them. Tell them just how much trouble they were in. Pronounce punishment on their heads. He didn’t. He prayed.  “I know you hear them mocking us, Lord; You know what they are trying to do. You know they are doing everything they can to discourage Your people from doing Your work. I am upset by their words. Angry at their actions. They deserve punishment, and I would love to pronounce it over them. I want justice done. Now. But. That’s not my job. So, here’s the situation, the words, the people. This mess is yours. You handle it. I trust you.” And with that prayer, Nehemiah surrendered to God. The problem. The people. The solution. Himself. His work. His men. Then he continued working, living out the truth he knew. Prayer is always the answer. (Nehemiah 4:4-5)

It always has been. Throughout the Bible, you will find people who knew this truth. Stuck in circumstances beyond their control, terrified, anxious, persecuted, rejected, falsely accused, and outright lied about, they prayed. Moses prayed as he led recalcitrant people through the wilderness. Esther prayed as she faced possible death when approaching the king on behalf of her people. Daniel prayed in the face of imminent danger. Stephen prayed as he was stoned for preaching the gospel. Paul and Silas prayed while locked in prison for no crime at all. Jesus prayed. Over and over again. For Himself. For His disciples, then. For us now. Why? Because prayer is always the answer. No matter your circumstances, your situations, or your emotions about those things. Regardless of the things others say to or about you. No matter the opinions you hear. Prayer is always the answer. It is the proper response. The only response for a child of God. Pray. Silently. Fervently. For yourself. For your enemies. For those around you who are being influenced one way or the other. Pray. It is always the answer.  (Acts 7:59-60; 16:25-34; Esther 4:1-17; Daniel 6:1-18; Exodus 15:24-25; 17:4; Numbers 14:13-19; Matthew 5:44; 26:36-46; Luke 23:34) 

Wherever you are today, whatever has you fearful, anxious, angry, worried, or just plain scared, may it cause you to pray. Whatever the evil one is using to distract, discourage, or draw you away from God, may it pull you closer to Him instead, because you chose to pray. Whatever circumstance or situation has you fretting, whatever words have you fuming, whatever pundit has you mentally or emotionally flailing, may you find yourself fleeing to the safety of prayer. The place where you can pour out your worries, voice your fears, and speak all the words built up in your brain. The place where you can lay it all down–your predicament, your pain, your persecution. The place where you can leave all your dismay, distress, and disquiet. The place you can find peace from the issues of the world and the upsets of life. Prayer. Pray first. Pray last. Pray always. Because prayer is always the answer. (I Thessalonians 5:17; Philippians 4;6-7; Colossians 4:2; Jeremiah 33:3; Psalm 34:17; 145:18; Luke 18:1; Hebrews 4:16; I Peter 3:12; 5:7; Proverbs 15:29; Matthew 6:5-14) 

It wasn’t the first time they had been in this position. It wouldn’t be the last. If history were any indication, versions of this same event would continue to occur as they had for decades. Different field. Different soldiers. Same enemy. They had been fighting for decades. Small skirmishes. Epic standoffs. Intense battles. A winner always emerged. Rarely was it the same side. Neither group was in a position to claim superiority. The Philistines found victory through advanced weapons and well-informed strategies. The Israelites discovered it in obedience to God. Standing still. Holding their ground. Trusting God to have their backs. When God was fighting for them, the Philistines could never win. Israel simply had to stand their ground.

David fully understood that concept. Standing his ground. He knew exactly how it was done. He’d stood up and fought off predators that came after his sheep. Lions. Bears. God had protected and cared for him and his flock in the face of danger. He had every reason to believe God would always do the same. That’s how he ended up facing down Goliath. Faith in God. Confidence in His power. Courage to walk out in the open when everyone else hid, talk back when others were silent, and stand firm when everyone else cowered. His brothers had wanted him to do the same. They wanted him to drop off their provisions and get out of there. It wasn’t a good place for a kid. They weren’t wrong. It wasn’t a great place for a kid to hang about, but it was the perfect place for the people of God to hold their ground against the enemy of God. 

He’d done that and a little more. Walking out to confront the giant, David drew himself up as tall as possible. He still looked like an an in comparison. His tiny, impotent sling hung limply from his fingers. Defiantly lifting his chin, David courageously squared his shoulders and took possession of his space. Size didn’t matter. The evil eyes, cruel laugh, menacing threats, and enormous spear didn’t stop him. They didn’t make him comfortable. David’s stomach probably knotted up a bit. His knees might have wobbled. His heart rate accelerated. It didn’t matter. What mattered was standing his ground. Planting his feet solidly on the ground God had given them, David pitched his voice to be heard at Goliath’s increased altitude, and firmly said his piece. They weren’t going anywhere. Not one Israelite soldier was running away. They were going to stay right where they were and watch God work. Right now. 

Wrapping a stone in the pouch of his sling, David loosened up his throwing arm. Goliath laughed. Hard. He wasn’t the tiniest bit shaken. Neither was David. He didn’t need to be. No matter the size of the enemy in front of him, the God surrounding him was greater. Spinning his arm with absolute precision, David let loose of the sling. Silent tension fell over the soldiers watching from their tents. Some rested their hands on their weapons, ready for the imminent battle. Others stared in slack-jawed amazement at the brashness of the kid. Most just watched in astonishment as that stone, once safely locked inside the sling, sailed through the air with miraculous accuracy and landed between Goliath’s eyes with alarming force. So much force, in fact, that it didn’t bounce back into the dirt. It sank in. Way in. And Goliath fell. Because David had obeyed God and stood his ground. (I Samuel 17)

Eleazer and David would have to do the same if they wanted victory against the Philistines. And they did. Standing in a field of swaying barley, they had no idea how the fight would go. They knew only one thing. Neither of them was giving up any ground. No matter who else ran away, left the battlefield, or abandoned the fight, they were staying. The risk was significant. The field was for growing food, not fighting battles. It was plowed and flat and treeless. There were no large rocks behind which to hide, no trees for cover, no outcroppings for surprise attacks. They had only their wits and their swords. Because their men were nowhere to be found. Quickly and quietly, they had disappeared. There one moment, gone the next. A mass exodus. The flight of the cowardly soldiers. Before David and Eleazer knew it, they were back-to-back in the middle of the field, surrounded by Philistine soldiers. 

The knowledge changed nothing. They fought without letting up, refusing to give an inch of ground to the enemy. They weren’t distracted by the pounding feet of fleeing men. They weren’t discouraged by the fear of defeat. They weren’t derailed by exhaustion, the taunts of the Philistine soldiers, or the sheer number of their foes. In determination, they fought on. Indeed, Eleazer fought so hard and killed so many opposition men that his arm could barely lift his sword by the end of the battle. In a massive minority, with the odds ridiculously stacked against them, God saw those two men standing their ground and gave them the victory. (II Samuel 23:9-10; I Chronicles 11:13-14)

Shammah felt the same. He understood the importance of standing his ground, not giving up, not running away when things looked severe. Watching his fellow soldiers run the opposite direction, Shammah staked his space in a field of lentils and battled the Philistines. Alone. In lentils. Admittedly, I checked the internet. Lentils do not grow on trees. They are not giant plants offering hiding spaces and cover. No. There is absolutely no cover in a lentil field. Not one with plants. Certainly not one without. Shammah was an unobstructed target. Or should have been. It was not humanly possible or conceivable that one man with no cover would be able to defeat an entire army and send them running for their lives. But Shammah did. Because he held his ground. He stood up for what he believed. He believed in God. And, regardless of the odds, the impossibilities, the improbabilities, God brought him a trouncing victory. Because he stood his ground. (II Samuel 23:11-12)

Given an infinite amount of time, we could continue. The list of Biblical heroes who stood their ground against enemies, both physical and spiritual, is long and varied. Daniel stood on his knees when ordered to forsake praying to God. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego stood on their feet when commanded to bow to a golden statue. Stephen stood on his faith even as he fell to his knees while being stoned for sharing what he believed. He counted the value of eternal life worth more than earthly applause. He didn’t alter the gospel, sugarcoat truth, or change his course to satisfy public opinion. He stood his ground. So must we. (Daniel 3:16-21; 6:1-18; Acts 7:54-60)

Bombarded by opinions and ideas dressed up to sound good and lure us away from God, it sometimes takes every ounce of strength we have to stand firm in what we believe. The cacophony of voices is loud and persistent. The differing viewpoints can make our heads spin and cloud our minds. The arguments for wrong and against right are so convoluted that just one weak moment could draw us aside, turn our heads, confuse our hearts. It is urgently important to know what you believe and why you believe it profoundly. It is even more important to know who you believe in. You must know God. Intimately. Know His Word. Know His voice. Be in a position to test every opinion, every theory, every idea, every thought against the Word of God. Check the Book. Every time. Stand firmly on what God says. Not every person’s interpretation of the Bible will be correct. So know it yourself. Read it. The actual Book. Not just books about the Book. Read the Book. Memorize it. Base your beliefs on your own knowledge of the Bible and your personal interactions with God. Don’t gullibly take some preacher, blogger, or writer’s word for what you should believe. Know the Book. Know the Author. You have that capability. 

Unlike the people of Biblical times, you can own and read the Bible. You can learn ancient languages and read it in the original verbiage. You can read it in modern English, Old English, or whatever language you choose. It won’t change the message. Wrong will still be wrong. Right will still be right. God will not have changed from the dawn of Creation to the morning of the day you read about it. He won’t change tomorrow, either. The same God who surrounded David in the valley of Elah, upheld Eleazer in the barley field, and fought with Shammah among the lentils, will stand by you too. The God who held Daniel’s hand in the lion’s den, walked with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the furnace, and personally welcomed Stephen to heaven’s glory is with you too. The Bible says it. You can believe it. No matter what society, friends, politicians, celebrities, social media, or television preachers staunchly avow, the only true authority is the Word of God. It is His message to mankind. It never changes. To truly follow it, you will have to stand on it. Even when it means standing alone. (Daniel 3:22-28; 6:19-23; Acts 7:55-56; Isaiah 40:8; Psalm 119:89)

Following Jesus, being His disciple, means to stand your ground. Be rooted and grounded in Christ and His Word. Refuse to budge. In storms. In adversity. In temptation. In battles that seem too lopsided to win. Don’t move. Stay there. Stand on the Word of God. Even if you have to stand alone. Value your relationship with God above the trinkets of the world. Take the Bible seriously. Live your life by its words. Ground yourself in its values. Stabilize your soul with its truth. Strengthen your heart with its promises. Why? Because everything else is passing away. It is all changing. It is crumbling. It is failing. God’s Word isn’t. It can’t. It won’t. It is safe and secure. Every promise, every prophecy, every word. It is all trustworthy. The Book. The Author. You need to know them both, so you can have the courage to stand your ground. (Luke 9:23; I Corinthians 15:58; 16:13; Ephesians 6:11; Joshua 1:8; II Timothy 3:16-17; James 1:22; Psalm 119:11; Matthew 24:35) 

She had started planning the minute she saw them headed toward her house. This was going to be one epic dinner! Every single one of her cooking skills would be engaged. The lamb would be moist and perfectly seasoned. The vegetables would be expertly roasted. The bread would be marvellously crunchy on the outside, yet exquisitely tender on the inside. Wine would flow. Conversation would be easy. Laughter would resound. The entire experience would be a triumph! As long as everything went according to her plan.

Nothing was turning out as Martha planned. When it was time to prepare the feast, she found herself in the kitchen alone. A pile of vegetables needed peeled and diced. The lamb needed slicing, seasoning, and cooking. The flour and yeast that would become bread rested helplessly on the counter. She would need another set of hands to pull this off. Usually, she had another set. Extra hands. Helping hands. Mary’s hands. Her sister would normally be right there beside her, working in tandem, precipitating the next necessity. Not today. Today, of all days, Mary chose to go rogue. She was nowhere to be found. Not peeling vegetables. Not kneading bread. Not setting the table. Mary was well and truly missing. 

Martha didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have time to go searching for a grown woman who knew where she should be and what she should be doing. This was ridiculous! Without Mary’s help, the kitchen had turned into a one-woman circus. Slicing mutton. Dicing vegetables. Kneading bread. Roasting, basting, stirring, baking. Martha badly needed a third hand. Or her sister. Mary could make an appearance at any moment. It wouldn’t upset Martha one little bit. She could overlook her tardiness, forgive her abandonment. She just needed Mary to get in the kitchen. Now. This entire meal could fall apart if just one task was left undone, one pot was stirred too late, one vegetable was overcooked, one pan stayed over the hottest spot of the fire too long. Yet here she was, alone. Feverishly working to create a meal worthy of the occasion.  

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Martha quickly checked to ensure all the pots were over the right heat, tossed her dish towel over her shoulder, and marched out to look for Mary. She surely wouldn’t have gone far. Not when they had company. Maybe she had just gotten caught up in conversation with one of the disciples and lost track of time. Maybe she didn’t realize Martha was already cooking. Maybe she had gone to make sure there was enough space for everyone to fit in the front room. It really didn’t matter where she was or why she was there. A pointed look from her bossy sister would get her sorted. If Martha could only find her. 

Following the sound of Jesus’ voice to the front of the house, Martha found Him surrounded by His disciples. They were hanging on His every word. No one was asking questions. They were just sitting there. Sponges. Soaking up every word that came from His mouth. She wished she could be there, too, but duty called. She couldn’t afford the distraction. She had people to feed. And she needed help. Glancing around from the back of the room, she searched for Mary. No luck. The space was full, indicating they had added a few people since Jesus arrived. She couldn’t see over some people or around others. Edging her way around to the front of the group, Martha stopped in her tracks at what she saw. Her jaw went slack, then tightened in irritation. That was Mary! Front and center! Right at Jesus’ feet. Listening. Learning. Soaking in His presence. Deeply distracted by her desire to be in His presence, Mary had forgotten her place. Forgotten her duty as hostess. Forgotten that her sister was doing all the work and could absolutely use some help. 

She hadn’t intended for it to happen that way. Caught up in the words of Jesus, Mary meant only to stay for a few minutes before heading off to help Martha. The time had passed without her realizing. Now she didn’t want to leave. Couldn’t make herself get up and go. She was enthralled by His teaching. Enamored by His words. Utterly distracted from the mundane cares of earthly living by the heavenly lessons Jesus spoke. Her heart raced with excitement as she learned more and more. Her soul hungered and thirsted to hear His words. There were a dozen places she could be, one specific place she should be, but only one place she wanted to be. Right there. At Jesus’ feet. 

Pushing her way to the front of the group, Martha took her issue to the Authority. She wasn’t having this. Reaching Jesus’ side, she issued a rebuke in the form of a question, “Don’t you think Mary should be helping me? She’s just lollygagging around listening to your stories. I’d love to do that too, but it doesn’t cook the food! She needs to do her share of the work! Tell her to get moving and come help me!” Regarding Martha with compassion, hearing her viewpoint, reading her heart, Jesus spoke. Not about Mary. Not really. About Martha. She was distracted, too. She was swamped in dinner details and entertaining minutiae. She was worried about putting on a grand feast when everyone would have been pleased with broiled fish and bread. Everyone else was distracted by Jesus. Martha was distracted by work. (Luke 10:38-42)

Mary had the right of things. Her distraction was good and right. Jesus wouldn’t be stopping by forever. No one would remember the food Martha prepared that day once Jesus had gone back to Heaven. But they would always remember the words He spoke. Those lessons would be burned into their hearts. They would be guiding lights to their souls. When the darkness of the world tried to suffocate them, those words would give them hope. When the seasons of life were hard and heavy, those words would give them strength. When their minds were unsettled and distracted by the daily cares of living, working, and surviving, those words would resound in their ears, bringing them peace. When they had questions, worries, and concerns, the lessons and parables Jesus spoke that day would guard their hearts and minds, keeping them focused on what truly matters. If there was ever a time for them to be distracted from chores and duties by someone or something, this was it. This was the day. This was the moment. Jesus was there. The Way of Truth. For life. (John 8:12; 14:6; Psalm 33:20-22; 46:1; Ephesians 2:14; Philippians 4:7)

Distracted by the duties and details of her everyday life, Martha spiralled out of control in frustration and irritation when her sister was distracted by Jesus. She didn’t see the similarity. She didn’t notice they were both distracted. Her by the world. Mary by Heaven. She didn’t understand how each distraction would impact their souls. If Martha’s earthly distractions continued to pull her from Jesus, her soul would dry and shrivel. Her faith would shrink. Her heart would harden. When life got difficult, despair could easily find a place to lodge. Not so for Mary. Her continued distraction with Jesus would strengthen her soul. His peace and presence would surround her. The storms of life might give her pause, but they wouldn’t sink her ship. Her faith would be solidly grounded in the safety of a relationship with Jesus Christ. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t help with the cooking anymore. It meant that, although her hands were busy with earthly things, her heart and mind would be on Jesus. We should all be so distracted.  

You see, being like Martha is easy. Surrounded as we are by a constant barrage of distractions, it is so easy to be drawn aside by the ones that matter least. The brightest colors flashing across our screens. The loudest pings from our cell phones. The biggest promises from advertisements, associates, employers. We get so busy chasing the proverbial rabbit that we lose sight of what really matters. Relationship with God. Peace in our hearts. Holiness in our souls. It’s not the zeroes on your paycheck, the corner office, the title, or the sports car that matters. Those are just distractions. Things that draw our hearts, minds, and energy away from following God. Chasing Him down. They make us spend less time in His presence, make His voice less audible to our ears. Putting on a show, making a name for ourselves, building our brand, and broadening our reputation all distract and detract from Jesus. They pull us away from God and numb our spirits to His leading. When everything earthly becomes more important than anything heavenly, you need to pump the brakes, my friend. The greatest detriment to your soul is distraction with earth when you should be focused on Heaven. (Proverbs 4:23-27; I Corinthians 7:35; Mark 4:19; Colossians 3:2; I John 2:15-17)

That is where Mary was. Where we should be. Completely distracted by Jesus. Entranced by His presence. Enthralled by His teaching. Empowered by His words. We should be sitting at His feet, listening to His voice, learning His ways, leaning in to the lessons He teaches. It doesn’t mean we shirk our duties, leave work undone, the house a mess, the kids unfed. We don’t blow off meetings at work, turn up late, or renege on responsibilities. It means that, even in the hustle and bustle and busyness of all the things our lives entail, our hearts and minds are tuned to Jesus. We constantly listen for His voice. We consistently look for His leading. It means our first response to every opportunity is to seek His guidance. It means we don’t take a step if it requires letting go of His hand. It means we take time every day to distance ourselves from the distractions of earth and immerse ourselves in the distractions of eternity. It means we remember that our heavenly calling is infinitely more important than anything we do on earth. It means that we know in our hearts and believe in our heads that the greatest thing we can ever be is distracted. With Jesus. (Psalm 32:8; 42:1-2; 63:8; Matthew 5:6; Jeremiah 29:13; I Chronicles 16:11; James 4:8; Romans 8:5-6; Ecclesiastes 9:10)  

The eavesdropping had been quite unintentional. She hadn’t even known she could. Not anymore. Her hearing wasn’t what it used to be. Nor was the rest of her body. Her eyesight had dimmed. Her hands were frail. Her feet were feeble. She moved much more slowly than she had when she first came to the temple. Back then, she had floated around the sanctuary on nimble feet, a lithe woman full of grace. More than eight decades of time had made changes to her physical body. Decades of prayer had made changes in her soul. She was no longer the brokenhearted girl who had come to find peace in the temple and never left. After decades spent in the presence of God, Anna was different, inside and out.  

Only seven years of marriage had passed before her husband’s death. It was too soon. The future she had dreamed and planned came to a sudden, disastrous halt. His untimely demise and her sudden, precarious place in society brought Anna to the temple. It was the only place she could feel a semblance of comfort, a modicum of peace, an ounce of joy. She felt safe there. Like she belonged. Perhaps she always meant to stay. Maybe it just happened. Either way, Anna became a permanent fixture. Day and night, she could be found there worshipping, praying, fasting. She embodied the yet unspoken words of the coming Messiah. “Ask and keep asking.” She lived the truths that would later be encapsulated in the Apostle Paul’s letters. “Even when you don’t see what you are hoping for, keep hoping, keep praying, keep believing. Because hope in God, faith in His promises, will never leave you disappointed.” Anna knew hope. She lived it. Daily. Prayed it. Constantly. Spent every day in the awareness that Jesus, the Messiah, the hope of salvation for fallen mankind, was coming. She hoped it would be in her lifetime. (Matthew 7:7; Romans 5:5; 8:25; Isaiah 7:4; 9:6)   

Simeon had an actual promise of that. The Holy Spirit had come, giving him a promise. He wouldn’t die before Jesus was born. Woudn’t go to his heavenly reward before he had met the Messiah. It must have been wonderful to have that assurance, that promise. A place to rest your hope and anchor your faith. Certainty like Abraham had that the God who promised would also perform. Anna didn’t have that. She didn’t have a personal promise on which to stand. She had hope. Hope that she would still be alive to see the goodness of God in the form of the promised Messiah while she was in the land of the living. It was something she prayed for. God’s kingdom on earth. His Messiah to come. She believed it would happen. She wanted it to be alive to see it. She waited expectantly for that day. (Luke 2:25-35; Romans 4:20-21; Matthew 6:10)

Perhaps that anticipatory spirit was what made her aging ears overhear the words Simeon was saying to the couple standing in the temple. Maybe it was the picture of Simeon holding a child in his arms that made her walk that direction. More likely, it was the perfect timing of the God, who plans every single detail of our lives, that brought Anna to be standing within earshot of the tiny huddle when Simeon made his joyous announcement. This child was Jesus. The Messiah. The Prince of Peace. He had come. In Anna’s lifetime.  

Her heart leapt within her at the sight of the Child and the words that burst from Simeon’s lips. This moment was everything she had hoped for and more. Her prayers, fervent pleadings of a heart desperate to see Jesus, had been answered. Her faith, based on the unwavering belief that God would keep His word, had not been misplaced. Though her aging body was unable to physically do the dancing, Anna’s soul was doing somersaults. Praise and thanksgiving erupted from lips. She couldn’t stop the flow. Whether or not she was supposed to share the news, she did. With everyone she met. Everyone who had been expectantly waiting, hoping, praying, believing that God would make good on His promise to send a Messiah to rescue them. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face, the light from her eyes, or the worship from welling up and verbally overflowing. She didn’t even try. (Luke 2:36-40)

There is something about answered prayers, fulfilled promises, sighted faith, that loosens our lips. Those miracles are what we talk about. The fulfillment of our requests. The proof of God’s power. The fruit of our faith. It has always been that way. The healed leper Jesus told to keep his story quiet didn’t do it. He told the story. Not the one about how long he waited, the pains of his illness, his waning hope, or wavering faith. No. He talked about his answer. So did the deaf and mute man, Jesus gifted hearing and speech. He surely had a million things he wanted to say, a story to tell. He’d had years to think, hope, pray. Yet when his tongue was loosened, when the words flowed freely, they were words about a miracle, not about the waiting, the hope, the faith, the painfulness of wondering when the answer was coming. (Mark 1:40-45; 7:31-37)

Anna was the same. She, too, had a story. She had spent 84 years in the temple. Watching. Waiting. Praying. Hoping. Fasting. Worshipping. Yet the Bible tells her story in three short verses. There had to be more to tell. More to say. More to know about the woman who, with no personal promise from an angel or the Holy Spirit, waited in prayer and hope and faith for more than eight decades without seeing the answer. The woman who, with no sight of the fulfilled promise on the horizon, still worshipped. That was Anna. As her body began to show signs of aging, she worshipped. When it seemed her faith would never be realized, her hope was misplaced, she worshipped. When everything seemed lost, and it appeared she would not live to see the miracle of God in human flesh, she worshipped. The temptation to give in to defeat, discouragement, and disappointment must have threatened a thousand times, but Anna never succumbed. Instead, she worshipped. And it became her story. 

 You see, all we know about Anna is all we need to know. Anna worshipped. She suffered tragedy and sorrow, but came out worshipping. She looked disappointment and discouragement in the face and kept worshipping. She lived with the knowledge that her faith might never result in physical sight, yet while she waited, she could still be found worshipping. No matter her circumstances, Anna’s response then was, her reputation now is, to worship. The posture of her heart in every situation was worship. Could the same be said for you? 

As you linger in hopeful prayer and tentative faith for the thing you have been praying about, asking for, and waiting on, are you filling the silence with worship? When faced with disappointment and distress, does your heart take on an attitude of worship? When the answer arrives, your faith becomes sight, the miracle is given, do you respond in worship? In gratitude? In explosive praise? Or do you take your answer for granted and bemoan that the next thing on your list of wants and wishes hasn’t yet occurred? Does your worship include telling everyone who will listen about the greatness of your God? Do you worship Him with your words, your actions, your life? Even in the waiting? Is your response in every situation, your reputation among friends and family, coworkers and neighbors, one of worship? For what God has done. For what He will do. For the hope in His eternal promise to give good gifts to His children. No matter your circumstances, are you still worshipping? Even in the waiting? (Psalm 27:14; 34:1; 105:2; Lamentations 3:25-26; I Thessalonians 5:17-18; Hebrews 13:15; Philippians 4:4; Matthew 7:11; James 1:17; Isaiah 12:4; I Chronicles 16:9; Ephesians 5:19)