07.01. The Sisters

1. The Sisters

Holy Scripture is a tree of life, and every part of it, every branch, every twig, yes, every leaf — is full of healing virtue.

How true is this of the story of Bethany! In itself it is a very Gospel of grace and love. To Christian hearts it has a peculiar charm. It tells of a family, every member of which was dear to Jesus. It tells of a home where was found true, deep, genuine piety. We see the sisters when all was well with them. We see them again when a heavy burden of grief was crushing them to the ground. We see the tender, loving Savior with them as a willing Guest, sharing their hospitality, and speaking to them in words of heavenly wisdom. We see Him again with them as a Divine Comforter, fulfilling His office to heal the mourner and to bind up the broken-hearted.

If ever there was a home where the ark of God dwelt, it was in this home. Here Christ was honored, and His word was received into meek and obedient hearts. A deep well-spring of love toward the Savior dwelt in each breast, and in Christ’s heart there was a well of love for Martha, Mary, and Lazarus.

Let us go in spirit and visit that home. Let us go and learn its precious lessons. Let us go and listen to the words of the sisters and the words of the Savior. Let us discover, if we can, the secret of true peace in our ordinary every-day life — and the secret of hope and strength and consolation when sorrow befalls us. Would that in every household to which this book may come, there might be felt something of the spirit that dwelt in the home of Bethany!

It has been remarked that the beloved Apostle gives a description of Bethany which is worthy of notice. If another writer had described it, he would probably have told something of its position — of its being a suburb of Jerusalem where some of its wealthy inhabitants had their abode; but John speaks of it, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, as "the town of Mary and her sister Martha." John 11:1

Ah, God does not value a town or village for its beauty, for its nobility, for its wealth — but for those who dwell there in His fear and love. Doubtless many a spot, little esteemed among men, is dear to God — because His eye beholds humble loving souls there, to whom the name of the Redeemer is precious. It may be the quiet hamlet, far removed from busy city and town; it may be the street or the court where noise and smoke, yes, and perhaps much poverty is found; but our Father discerns there hearts touched by His Spirit, and amidst all their trials, the everlasting chimes of faith and prayer and thanksgiving are ever ascending thence to Him who never forgets His needy and sorrowful ones. Our first introduction to the sisters is at a simple entertainment to which Martha had invited Christ (Luke 10:38-42): "A certain woman named Martha received Him into her house." When Jesus came to a village in Samaria, we read in a previous chapter, they did not receive Him because His face was as though He would go to Jerusalem. So these villagers refused Christ a lodging for a night, and lost all the blessing He would have brought to them. Had He abode with them, He would have spoken to them the words of life; and, perhaps, as at Sychar, many might have heard and believed. But now the opportunity is lost, for He departs to another village.

It is otherwise with Zacchaeus: when Christ calls to him, he opens his door and receives Him joyfully. No less joyfully did this godly woman welcome Christ into her home.

Dear reader, how do you act towards Jesus? Is it like the Samaritan villagers — or like Zacchaeus and Martha? Do you shut the door against Christ, or do you gladly open it and ask Christ to enter in and dwell with you?

Too often the world knocks, and we say "Come in."

Friends knock, and we admit them. The claims of business and of self-interest knock — and we readily hearken to them. The call of pleasure is heard and regarded.

Sin comes in some deceitful guise, and we forbid her not. But Christ comes to bless, to help, to save — to fill our poor aching hearts with such joy as earth knows not, and we say, "Stand aside! What have I to do with You, You Jesus of Nazareth?" And so, with the bars and bolts of our sins and self-will and prejudice — we turn from our door the best Friend. Shame on us for our ingratitude! This is He who gave His lifeblood to redeem us! This is He who stooped from Heaven to earth to lift us up to His Father’s throne! Woe be to us if ever He departs from us! But great shall be our gain if only we will receive Him. With Him enters peace, pardon, sonship, glory. "To as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name."

O Jesus, You are standing
Outside the fast-closed door,
In lowly patience waiting
To pass the threshold o’er!

Shame on us, Christian brothers,
His name and sign who bear;
O shame, thrice shame upon us,
To keep Him standing there!

O Jesus, You are knocking!
And lo, that hand is scarred,
And thorns Your brow encircle,
And tears Your face have marred!

O love that passes knowledge,
So patiently to wait;
O sin that has no equal,
So fast to bar the gate!

O Jesus, You are pleading
In accents meek and low —
"I died for you my children,
And will you treat Me so?"

O Lord, with shame and sorrow
We open now the door:
Dear Savior, enter — enter —
And leave us never more! When Jesus has entered the house, Mary chooses His footstool. She sits at His feet and hears His word. We read of two other of Christ’s followers who chose a similar position. The woman who was a sinner stood at Christ’s feet weeping for her sin, and waiting upon Him for the hope of pardoning mercy. The demoniac that was healed sat at Christ’s feet, clothed and in his right mind, praying Him that he might be with Him — and yet willing at His bidding to go home to his friends and tell them of the mercy Christ had shown him.

Mary chooses the footstool as a learner,
the sinful woman chooses the footstool as a penitent,
the demoniac chooses the footstool as a grateful and obedient disciple.

Lord Jesus, may we ever thus abide near to You! May we learn of You! May we confess to You our sins! May we long to abide with You — and yet, at Your command, be ready to go out into the world that knows You not, and tell others of all You have done for us! But especially should we here look at MARY. What a calm, holy, deep joy she felt as she drank in the life-giving words of the Son of Man! The eyes of her understanding were enlightened, and her whole soul was illuminated with the knowledge of Christ’s love to her. She would gladly learn more and more. The murmurings of her sister for her lack of service, cannot disturb her. She would stay near her Lord until the instruction He would give her is ended.

It is our wisdom also thus to hear the voice of the Good Shepherd. We need to sit directly under His own teaching. Many in our day call us to receive the teaching of man as if it were the infallible Word of the living God. We are to regard the voice of the Roman Pontiff as if it were Divine. We are to give up the right of private judgment. We are to believe the interpretation of Scripture given by an earthly priest, as if it were impossible for him to err. If only we be told "the Church teaches so and so," we are not to question it for a moment, but do as we are commanded. Let us beware of this danger.

Let us read and search into the meaning of Holy Scripture, praying perpetually for the teaching of the only Infallible Interpreter, the Holy Spirit. Only take your Bible and read in a spirit of childlike faith and obedience; only lift up your eyes to Heaven, and ask the great Teacher to send you His good Spirit to instruct you; and you as truly sit at Jesus’ feet and learn His word as did Mary in the home of Bethany. But we must turn for a while to MARTHA. We can almost see her, so busy and active in preparing the meal for the Master. Nothing shall be left undone to add to His comfort. Such an opportunity of showing honor to her guest must not be lost. Then, in her anxious zeal, her eye glances at her sister. Why is this? Why should she do all the work? Why not Mary assist in lightening the necessary toil? Then her heart grows fretful. She complains of her sister; yes, and of Christ too. By thus talking to Mary, He keeps her from sharing the labor. She would have Him bid Mary to come and help.

How much dross is mingled with the gold! How much that is sadly imperfect, mars the faith and love of God’s people! We see Martha’s weak point. She was true and genuine in her affection for the Savior, but she misjudged the way in which best to show it. She thought chiefly at the moment of that which concerned His temporal comfort. She forgot that Christ delighted more in giving than in receiving. She little thought of the joy that it was to Him, to pour into the heart of Mary that living water of Divine truth which she was so eagerly thirsting after.

Truly, Martha, you did well in receiving Christ beneath your roof, and in desiring to pay due honor to your Redeemer. Very different were you from Simon, of whom Christ complained that he gave Him not the water to wash His feet. Yet, Mary, you did far better in sitting down so humbly at His feet, in so gladly opening your ear to hear and your heart to receive His instruction and the abundant dew of His grace, which He thus bestowed upon you. No joy can sinner give to the Savior greater than this — the joy of filling the empty vessel with the fullness of His mercy and love. And yet again we ask, Why should Martha be distracted? Why so over-anxious and disturbed in mind? Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart; and if there is the willing mind, it is accepted according to what a man has, and not according to that he has not.

It is a fault with some Christians to be too anxious even in their work for the Lord. The spirit is burdened and depressed with the weight of the responsibility laid upon them. Far better this indeed, than neglect and indifference and half-heartedness; but would it not still more honor Him to trust Him more, to do our utmost — and leave results in His hands; to expect great things — and yet be willing to wait hopefully on Him until He grants to send them? But still more do we dishonor Christ, and destroy our own peace, when we allow the various little trials of every-day life to fill our hearts and occupy our thoughts. No one can tell the injury which a clouded, burdened, anxious disposition works on a Christian and to those around him. It prevents all happiness and comfort in prayer. It leads to many little disputes and quarrels which might otherwise be avoided. It gives to others a false view of religion, and thus places a stumbling-block in the path of inquirers.

Dear reader, do you ask, How can you avoid it? I have no doubt you may have numberless thorns and briers along your path. You have difficulties that others know nothing of. Yet God has revealed a sure remedy. He has told us with child-like confidence, to put every matter, small and great, into His hands. He has bidden us roll upon Him, our pitiful Father, our cares, our fears, our needs, our manifold distresses — and He will undertake for us. A widow with several children was remarked by a lady to be always humming some cheerful hymn; and the inquiry was made, "how it was that, with so many little ones to provide for, she seemed always happy? Had she not many cares and anxieties with them?" The answer she gave was a very instructive one. "Yes," she said: "I have many, many anxious thoughts; but I seldom keep them more than a few minutes; for as fast as they come, I cast them on the Lord."

Oh, that we could act in this spirit, and thus obey the precept, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your requests known unto God."

"Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things!" Very earnestly does Christ warn Martha against this spirit of over-carefulness. It is interesting to mark how He doubles her name. When He desired to impress some great lesson, He often did this. That He might forever fix in men’s hearts the remembrance of His forbearance and compassion toward the perishing, He speaks thus to Jerusalem: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered your children together, even as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you would not." When He would solemnly warn Peter of his danger, He speaks to him in a similar way. "Simon, Simon, Satan has desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat."

Even so does He address Martha. He would awaken her to see her mistake. He would lead her to blame herself instead of Mary. He would show her the evil of being burdened and distracted by needless care: "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." Luke 10:41-42

"One thing is needful." Not many things, but one. Not the provision for the table, the food that perishes — but the bread of life, the word of salvation; for, "man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God."

Dear reader, one thing is needful for you — that your soul should be saved, your sin forgiven, your peace assured, your title to life eternal made secure. One thing is needful — to live in friendship with God, to die in joyful hope, to awake in glory. One thing is needful . . .
the wedding garment to cover you,
the pearl of great price to enrich you,
the water of life to refresh you,
the balm of Gilead to heal you,
the Rock of Ages to shelter you,
the Everlasting arms to uphold you,
the wing of your Redeemer to cover you.

Yes, "one thing is needful;" in a word, Christ! His love, His presence, His grace, His image, His glory! With this, you are rich and happy through eternal ages!

"Perish every fond ambition,
All I’ve sought, or hoped, or known,
Yet how rich is my condition,
God and Heaven are still my own." And this was Mary’s portion. This was her rich inheritance. This was the good part which she had chosen, and which would never be taken from her. Her choice was without wavering or hesitation. She could say in truth, "My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed. I have one desire, one aim, one deep longing — to know You, to love You, to cleave to You more and more." Had she been placed in the position of the young man who had great possessions, and Christ had bidden her relinquish them — she would at once have joyfully done so. Had she been tempted by some fair promise of high rank, or of an advantageous union where she must have forsaken Christ — we know what her decision would have been. Had she been threatened with exile, slavery, or death — we know full well she would rather have suffered all than renounce Christ.

Blessed are you, my reader, if such is your choice also. You may be setting out on life’s journey, and many pleasant pictures of future happiness may present themselves to your imagination. But these may prove only as the mirage in the desert. But if Christ is your choice, you have joys in store that shall not fail you. You may have sorrows, as Mary had afterwards; you may be troubled and tempted, and have to bear the scorn of the ungodly — but I can promise you that you will never repent of the choice you have made. A young Jewess in Amsterdam embraced the Gospel, and had to make great sacrifices for Christ. She had to leave mother, brother, and sisters, that she might win Him — yet she did not repent. Hear her own words: "All besides lost — but Christ chosen; and I have found in Him more than all that I have lost."