Tag Archives: mary

when Jesus comes to dinner

image courtesy of the crozet gazette


It’s nice to know that if Jesus ever shows up at my door, he’ll be perfectly content eating popcorn for dinner.  This from Luke 10:38-42:

As Jesus and his disciples were passing through a village, a woman named Martha invited Jesus into her home.  As she was busy making preparations for a meal worthy of the Son of God — slaughtering chickens, peeling potatoes, cutting tomatoes into little flower shapes, and making a mighty fine mustard cream sauce — her sister, Mary, sat with Jesus on the front porch and listened to all he had to say.  Martha wasn’t happy about this one bit and complained to Jesus, “Lord, don’t you care that my slacker sister’s leaving me to do all the work by myself?  Tell her to get off her bubble goose and help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” Jesus replied, “why you buggin’ so?  You’re stressed and worried about so many things, but only one thing’s needed.  Mary’s chosen what’s most important, and it won’t be taken away from her.  Now go order a pizza and get out the paper plates; and let’s sit and talk.”

I can’t help but think about some of our complicated, elaborate, and time-consuming systems of “doing” worship, church, and missions:

Buildings, programs, and sound systems.

Ministers and worship leaders constantly scurrying about.

Flow charts, diagrams, and studies on church models, church attendance, and church growth.

Can’t we just have a cup of coffee on the front porch and listen to Jesus?


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dear diary — 3rd day of iyyar

image courtesy of photobucket.com
* This post is the second in a “dear diary” series from Luke 1-2.  The first post is here.
** The first “dear diary” series is here.


3rd day of Iyyar, 8:30 pm

Dear Diary,

There are a few things that have been on my mind, and I need to get ’em down on paper before I forget.  Disjointed I’m sure, but here goes:

  • So I walk into the temple to burn incense — we’re talking a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, in a real holy place.  Everybody’s all quiet and praying outside; it’s a really solemn occasion.  I remember how quiet it was because I was thinking about doing that thing on the other side of the altar of incense — you know, the thing where I make it look like I’m walking down steps into a basement or something?  Yeah, I was thinking about whether or not I should do it (just in case anyone was peeking), and that’s when I saw him.  Gabriel — only I didn’t know his name at the time — the angel.  I just about peed my robe and tunic.  And that’s when he says… get this, he says, “Don’t be afraid.”  Uhm… yeah.  Okay.  Earth to Jerusalem… hello, we have a problem.  And Gabriel, when you decide you’d like to join us in the real world, let us know.  We’ll call you a flying taxi cab.  I’m staring at an angel in the flesh — and he says, “Don’t be afraid.” **rolling eyes**
  • Alright, so everyone knows the story now.  Gabriel tells me all about how there’s gonna’ be a son born to Lizzie and he’s gonna’ be like Elijah, full of the Spirit and preparing the way for the Lord.  So, my wife being what they call in Latin a “highnumerogenarian,” I says (and I quote), “How can I be sure of this?  I am an old man and my wife is well along in years.”  That’s when Gabriel finally introduces himself.  Yep, we exchange names just before he tells me he’s going to take away my ability to speak.  Says I didn’t believe him.  But I was just asking for clarification.  And besides that, he took away my hearing without even telling me he was going to; he said I’d be mute — not a word about deaf.  Though I will concede that it’s at least possible he told me he’d remove my hearing, but only after it was already gone.  That’s real fair.
  • Oh, and remember how Gabriel told me not to be afraid?  Yeah, exactly.  “There’s nothing to be afraid of… I only have the power to speak on behalf of the living God.  Well, that and the ability to take away all your senses.”  You better believe I’m going to make water in my tunic the next angel I see. **not joking**
  • So here’s my beef (though all is well and I am a blessed man today) and really why I’m writing:  I was talking to Lizzie’s cousin, Mary, yesterday, and she says she did nearly the same thing.  Gabriel (same guy) went through almost the same spiel with her: “Don’t be afraid… yada yada… you’re going to have a son, and so on.”  Then she said it.  Almost the same words as me (minus the virgin bit).  “How will this be, since I am a virgin?”  Boom.  There it is.  Doubt, questioning, disbelief.  But you know what Mary got for it?  Nada, zilch, zippo.  Gabriel — get this — answered her question; he explained to her how it would happen.  She wasn’t struck blind, deaf, or dumb.  She gained a lot of weight, but that had nothing to do with angels or curses.  [Well, maybe the curse on Adam and Eve in the very beginning…]
  • Last thing:  Whose idea was it to call people who can’t speak “dumb?”  That just doesn’t seem fair.  I much prefer the word “mute,” and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.  There’s probably a whole slew of people with me on this.  I suppose you could call us the… silent majority?

That’s all I’ve got tonight, Diary.  Goodnight.


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