Get out of the kitchen

2022—the year I graduate college, the year I live overseas for six months doing my long-dreamt-of mission work, the year I take my first wobbly, independent steps into adult life on my own. This is the first year that my next step is not premeditated and established by my surrounding culture or family expectations. This is the first year that I won’t graduate and naturally move into the next step on the traditional educational journey in America. This year, there is no established “next step”. As I considered these things, I chose the word “peace” to cling to as my word of the year. I know this year holds a lot of change and a lot of large decisions about my life trajectory, and I want to hold tightly to peace amidst the transitions and questions about my future.

It’s funny that even while I might be self-aware enough to anticipate my own anxiety in this year, I am not self-controlled enough to avoid it. The past few weeks, I have found myself sinking back into the anxiety of the world, and the Lord graciously showed me a story that reminded me much of my own situation and pointed me back to truth.

One of our lectures from my discipleship training school this week was on the story of Mary and Martha in Luke 10:38-40. In this story, Martha is anxious and distracted, working hard to serve Jesus and His disciples, while her sister Mary chooses to sit at Jesus’ feet and listen to His teachings. When Martha asks Jesus to tell Mary to help her serve, He gently rebukes her, saying that only one thing is necessary, and Mary has chosen that thing. I had heard this story many times before, so to be honest, I was slightly annoyed that I had to listen to another 3 hour lecture on a familiar story. I wasn’t feeling well, and my mind was distracted.

What I didn’t realize was that the Lord was priming me by reminding me of this story, preparing me for the lesson He was about to teach me. Two days after this lecture, He showed me that like Martha, I had once again wandered back into the kitchen. I’ve been busy preparing and controlling and organizing, trying to get everything ready to serve Jesus with the rest of my life, instead of sitting at His feet now.

I have been stressed and anxious, wanting everything to be in order so that I can serve Him well, at the right time. I’ve been hiding in the kitchen, spending large amounts of physical and emotional energy on my relationships that I’m terrified to leave unattended. What if I leave to go sit at Jesus’ feet and my relationships or the dreams I have for my future go stale in the kitchen unattended? What if my physical appearance wilts as I spend more time at His feet than in the kitchen (or gym) working on my own body? What if I sit at Jesus’ feet for too long, and then when meal time comes around, then have nothing to offer Him?

There are many things currently keeping me in the kitchen—friendships that I’m desperate to maintain (or control?), my physical appearance, my dreams and plans for my future that I want to prepare, my goals for myself…none of these things are bad, but they’ve kept me from sitting at my Bridegroom’s feet. As I have stayed in the kitchen, running around trying to watch every friendship so that it doesn’t boil over or grow stale, trying to wash every sin, trying to prepare the perfect physical presentation for the life I want to serve Jesus, I have felt exhausted, burnt out, and alone. I act as if I am the only one who can serve this meal of a life to Jesus, as if He needs me to serve Him.

Yet this week, I felt Jesus invite me out of the kitchen and back to His feet. “Let Me serve you!” He says. Mark 10:45 says, “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” Today He reminded me that He does not need me to serve Him, and instead asks if He can serve me.

I’ve mentioned before that God’s word over this season of my life has been “honeymoon”, and I have been learning to receive the love of God as my Bridegroom. In this, I was reminded that the marriage covenant, which I got to commemorate this week in the sacrament of communion (see the picture at the beginning), remains steady through sickness and health, for richer or for poorer, till death do us part. This week, I felt like a weak, poor bride. I didn’t have strength or energy to serve my Bridegroom well, and I withdrew into the kitchen out of the shame that I had little to offer my Bridegroom. I wanted to be the one to serve my Bridegroom an amazing meal, but instead, He asked to take care of me while I rest by His side.

When I am poor in spirit, body and soul, when I have absolutely nothing to offer but fear, exhaustion, and burnout, when I come to Him demanding help in the kitchen, He gently invites me back to His feet to rest with Him. Yes, we will get back to the kitchen at some point, but we will go together to work on the meal that is my life. Together, we will work on my friendships, clean up some of my sin, work on my stewardship of my physical body, and prepare my dreams for our life together. But today, we will rest. Today, I’ll sit at the feet of my Bridegroom and be content to simply listen.