Luke 10:38-42
As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
Each week, our online Sunday morning church service still puts the hymn numbers out on the board in the top left corner of the screen - to show continuity, normalcy, and for those who want to sing along at home from their own hymn book. There’s another number tucked down the bottom of the board. Always increasing. Probably skimmed over by most. Today it reads 174.
For the last few weeks, church has been feeling… harder. But why? Nothing about the service itself has changed. The preaching is still faithful and engaging, the songs are still meaningful - and singing is excellent therapy! Our church leaders are praying for us regularly and we for them. I’m fortunate to be able to watch the service on our TV, rather than a little screen.
So, is it me? Is it my attitude in coming to a time especially set apart for teaching and worshipping, with my dearly loved sisters and brothers in Christ?
As I thought about it (during the sermon), it dawned on me that it’s not attitude, not entirely, I don't think. It’s environment. Place. Geography.
I miss not just the more obvious delights of meeting in person, conversations in actual 3D, but another element I’d never considered before.
As a stay-at-home mum, home has been my workplace almost exclusively. A few years ago I began working once a week in the city; of course that’s at home now, too. Those of us in Melbourne who can work from home, must. It’s well documented that working from home can lead to blurred boundaries. It seems churching from home does also.
Before isolation, going to a Church building each Sunday was an escape - not from work, but to a different kind of work. Vacuuming a different floor, washing different coffee cups, listening to different voices; in joyful service to a wider family. A shared facility where the responsibility no longer feels solely mine, but the burden of cleanliness and decision-making is shared by many others. It is a space for mental refreshment; to put aside the responsibilities of homemaker and focus more on learning from scripture. But now I find myself distracted by unswept floors, scattered Lego, breakfast dishes fighting for space with Sunday school setup on the dining table.
Years ago, when my children were tiny wee things and every outing was a circus, we found we had to prioritise the events in the week. Sunday’s service became what the week rotated around - if just one thing was to happen, it was that. Snack times and nap routines changed so we as a family could get to Sunday church, engage in it, and not be cranky.
Today, as the general clutter from school and sport and music and play and employment and hobbies and mask-making encroaches on my lounge room and my Sunday morning, I realise something needs to change.
It’s a privilege to meet together regularly as the body of Christ, albeit virtually.
Church has never been a place to sit back and enjoy the entertainment. The visible building and its amenities serve the invisible church - facilitating community, preaching, learning, worshipping and evangelising.
To do this well, from home, takes conscious effort in emotional and physical preparation. For me, this means identifying the things that distract and fixing them beforehand; to be conscious that this is a different time and space. Very different. The distractions are different. It’s easy to look at my phone in the middle of the sermon because the preacher can’t see me doing it - and I’m taking notes, right? I have a cup of tea and a biscuit at my elbow; luxurious, but not necessarily a study aid. Sunday School will be in the next room, with all of its accompanying noise and questions.
So, where to now? Melbourne is a long way from going back to the way it was before - not yet, anyway. So I have to change. Every day I can consciously look forward to the weekly expounding of scripture. To relish the interruptions about “Why did Samuel hear voices in the night?” I can make Sunday the focus of my week. I can get the housekeeping jobs done in a more timely fashion so they are less distracting. But also put the thoughts of them aside for a time. Not a perfect house. Just a house where, like Martha struggled, it is better to listen to Jesus. Everything else can wait. That's true of my work at home... and it's true of my work from home too."
It’s 174 days since I last met in person with my church family. It could easily be 174 more. It’s no longer a challenge to get to Sunday’s service, but harder to engage in it, and not be distracted.
In this environment, it’s time to prioritise Sunday again. Beginning Monday.
* photo credit Jason Leung, Unsplash
