I Hate That But I Love Jesus

I Hate That But I Love Jesus

Luke 14:25-33

One of the reasons college football is so much fun... it teaches you to hate, with style.

Your state or conference rivals are teams, schools, drunken visitors you just love to hate. It's good for you.

For the longest time, we Tennessee Vols hated Alabama the most. 

And then Nick Saban came and we just figured, "What's the point?" 

Except in 2022, when we put the goal post in the river. Good times. 

I know y'all are going to hate hearing this, but We're "Gator Haters." But after Steve Spurrier left it wasn't as much fun. 

It was so easy to hate Steve, with his little hat with the hole on top. Apparently he willed that to Lane Kiffin. 

We also hate Lane. Probably more.

I was surprised to find Trinity's such a melting pot of FBS hate.

You got your fans of Alabama, Auburn, Georgia, Clemson, LSU, Ole Miss, Florida.

South Florida.

Muahhahahaha.

When I came here, I was told, Yes, And I was told, (and this is verbatim): 

Yes, Trinity has fans from all over the nation, but we can all agree on one thing: 

We all hate Tennessee.

That's just hateful.

Shame on you.

It's OK. You can't wear that shade of orange and not have thick skin.

This is America. 

Land of the freedom to love and freedom to hate whoever you want. 

And, hate to say it, but lately, we're getting real good at that hating part.

What do you hate? 

We say we hate stuff it all the time. 

For instance, I hate Lima Beans. 

Lima beans, butterbeans, kidney beans, pinto beans, garbanzo beans and those deceitful black-eyed "peas." 

An insult to the pea team.

Does that make me species-ist? 

Anti-legume-ist? 

I don't dislike all beans. 

I have bean friends. 

I like peanuts. 

Look it up. They're beans. Just with a monocle. 

I like them Salted. Cocktail. Dry-roasted. Chocolate-covered. 

I'll even go for hot boiled peanuts. 

But only from an Andalusia gas station.

What do you hate?

• Mosquitos.

• People who don't use their blinkers.

• A heat index over 100.

• Sand in your swimsuit.

• Smart phones.

• The itchy spot right in the center of your back that arms are not made to reach.

• Cybertrucks. And Elon.

• When nobody remembers the wifi password.

• Liberty Mutual ads. They're on all the time. Not even funny.

• Melting icebergs.

• Squirrels. (My dog told me that one.)

We all have things we hate. 

Even if we hate to hate. 

We hate hating that we do hate. 

I hate that.

So, maybe, when you hear Jesus saying you should hate your family... and your friends… life itself... maybe you do. 

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.

Take your meds, grampa.

But for Jesus to say, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple…" 

For words like that to come out of Jesus's mouth you wonder, "Seriously?" 

"Does he really mean that?" 

"Was he just having a really bad day?" 

"Did Mary and Joseph ground him for no good reason?"

It sounds just about as anti-Jesus as Jesus could be. 

Jesus WANTS us to hate???

Did JESUS hate HIS family, his disciples, even life itself? 

Is that what it really takes to be his follower?

---

This is one of those scriptures that makes you say "Ouch" instead of "Amen." 

Makes you say, "Whaaaaat?"

I don't like it. 

I might even say I hate it. 

I read five or six different commentaries on this scripture. 

Honest.

Every single one said the same thing, "Oh, he didn't REALLY mean HATE-hate."

They said: Jesus was exaggerating to make a point. 

Jesus was speaking figuratively. 

He knew the commandment to honor thy father and thy mother. 

He was always good to Mary. 

He cared for his disciples. 

He even loved his enemies and told us to do so, too. 

So, when Jesus said hate, he didn't really mean hate the way we do. 

Maybe it's a bad translation. 

I hate preaching on this one.

Because, I confess, making excuses for Jesus is my first response, too. 

I want to find logical, reasonable, scriptural ways to explain away this weird and troubling part of the Bible. 

And you can do that. With all of them.

You can pretty much make the Bible mean anything you want if you do enough theological gymnastics. 

Like those people who can contort their bodies so they can fit in tiny little boxes. 

You can contort the Bible to fit your box. 

It's easy.

We do it all the time. 

Conservatives make it conservative. 

Liberals make it liberal. 

Nationalists make it national. 

Individualists make it individual. 

I wish the Bible – I wish Jesus – would just say… 

well, I wish they just said what I want them to say. 

If I'm being truthful.

I would say that anyone who tells you the Bible is simple to understand hasn't read much of it. 

At least not much more than their favorite parts. 

Because there are parts of the Bible – 

there are things even Jesus said – like this one – 

that I wish weren't in there. 

That I just don't like. 

There are parts nobody really likes. 

Parts you might honestly say, you hate.

I hate that the Bible can't be simpler.

--

Way back in in the beginning. In Genesis. 

Way back when Jacob, the son of Isaac, the son of founding father Abraham. 

Way back at the beginning, in Genesis 32, there's the story of Jacob being all alone. 

Trying to sleep.

There's "a man," or "an angel," or God himself wrestles with him. 

All night long. 

And when morning comes, it's kind of a tie. 

And the wrestler tells Jacob his new name shall be, "Israel." 

Israel literally means, "One who struggles with God," 

or "One who contends with God," 

or "wrestles" with God. 

And the people of this faith, Israelites, even Christians, are those who wrestle, who contend with God, with the Bible.

and, quite often, with each other and with the world.

So, from the very beginning of our faith, the Bible tells us: 

This is going to be a struggle. 

This is supposed to be hard. 

If faith were easy, if faith were blind, it wouldn't be faith. 

At least not faith in God, the God of Israel, the God of Abraham, and… the God of Jesus. 

"Jesus loves me, this I know." 

Even a child gets that. 

But once we grow past childish ways, as Paul says, we see things differently. 

Through a glass darkly. 

Faith is a struggle. 

Some days we have it in our grasp. 

And some days, it's a love-hate relationship.

Some days we might even doubt the whole thing.

Let me say this. 

If anyone has ever told you that if you question God, if you question the Bible, if you doubt your faith – at all – 

you're a sinner, you're bad, and you might just be going to hell – 

if anyone has ever told you that – 

THEY. ARE. WRONG. 

They're trying to scare you into believing what they believe. 

It's manipulation. 

Crowd control. 

It's untrue. 

It's hateful.

And if that kind of thinking has ever made you hate yourself, hate your family, hate the church, or even hate Jesus – 

I am so sorry. 

I hate when that happens. 

And I'm OK with hating that.

On the other hand, when people – 

we preachers, people who write commentaries – 

are quick to jump to rationalizing, when we're clearly too fast to explain away the hard parts of the Bible – 

we have stopped being wrestlers and turned into couch potatoes.

Faith. Knowing God. Knowing Jesus. 

Being a good family member, a good friend, a good citizen of the world – is a lifelong process. 

Otherwise we could just come to church once, get it, and never need to come back again. 

Faith – any faith – is a lifetime of wrestling. 

Sometimes you've got it wrapped up with a bow. 

And sometimes it's got you in a headlock. 

But even if you tap out, you can still get back in.

There's that wonderful image of Jesus carrying the lost sheep around his shoulders. 

The God we wrestle with is also the God who brings us home, who struggles with us when we wander off. 

And I sure don't hate that.

--

A couple of Communions ago, I confess, I was not at the top of my game. 

I hadn't slept well. I guess my mind had been wrestling with things.

We had the elders up here, and I messed up. 

I handed the juice to the elders, and then realized, oops, the bread goes first, 

you big dummy. 

So, Jean & I had to politely retrieve the trays of juice, and then hand the trays of bread, and then do the juice in the right order.

Stand back. I am a professional.

Then, when I was serving the elders, I picked up a tray of bread, and didn't hold it flat. 

The bread slid right off the tray and into the floor. 

"Oh no," thought I. 

Actually, I thought something I can't say in church. 

Thankfully, we have other trays of the Body of Christ. 

Communion was able to go on, the congregation was served, and hopefully, Jesus laughed at me. 

I don't know. 

Maybe Jesus smacked his forehead and wept. 

But I hated – I hated – knowing that I messed up. A sacrament.

Sometimes we wrestle with God. 

Sometimes we wrestle with our own mistakes. 

I really don't think Jesus hates us for that. 

Might wish he could smack us upside the head.

I don't think God hates us when we can't understand why we do the things we do. 

I don't think God hates us when we can't undo the things we did that keep us awake at 3 in the morning. 

I don't think God hates us when we're not on speaking terms with God.

Sometimes Jesus asks us to do things we just can't. 

Or won't. 

Or we fail.

Despite all our failures, I believe Jesus STILL calls us his disciples. 

Whether we carry the cross, or fumble it. 

There may BE things Jesus wants us to hate. 

But I don't believe for one minute that Jesus hates us. 

We're all on the wrestling team. 

And I believe he's cheering for our team. 

Even if it's Tennessee.

Amen and ouch. 

The Lord we humans crucified sees us. 

He probably says both. 

Ouch. Amen. 

And... bless their hearts. 

For they know not what they do.

You just gotta love them.

[eos]
www.jamesmctyre.com

Excuse Me, That's My Seat

Excuse Me, That's My Seat"

Luke 14:1, 7–14

James McTyre

Trinity Presbyterian Church

Labor Day Weekend, 2025-08-31

Today's gospel reading from Luke is about a dinner party where Jesus gives a lecture on table manners.

Now, I realize a Bible lesson about etiquette might not be what you were expecting to hear. Especially not from Jesus. We'd expect Jesus to talk about something lofty and mysterious, like the Kingdom of God. But here's the twist — he is. Turns out, you can learn a lot about heaven… how it is… and how it isn't… by watching who gets the best seat in the house.

---

We don't call attention to this very often, but our sanctuary is laid out like a dinner party. Sort of. Not like at your house. Unless your chairs are 30 feet wide and bolted to the floor. But look! What's front and center? The pipe organ. The preacher. Hyunjoo. All true, but not the answer I'm searching for. The truly central thing in church is: The Supper Table. The Lord's Table. That's in line with Jesus's favorite thing to do, drop in at somebody's house and eat supper. When we use our supper tables well, they turn into holy furniture.

This is true for pretty much all churches. Where we sit is – well, maybe not predestined, but definitely predetermined. We know our place. Even in church. Especially in church. 

You want to really confuse a preacher – and the choir? One Sunday, everyone swap sides and pretend everything's normal. We'll think we're having a stroke. It'll never happen, though. Because your seats are your holy furniture. If Jesus comes back, we want him to know where to find us.

Jesus is invited to a grand dinner at the home of a prominent Pharisee. It's fancy. Think Grandma's tablecloths. The wedding gift china. And a guest list like the Oscars. Jesus walks in. He notices something: people scrambling for the good seats. People heading for "their" seats. Just like church. Or other religious places. Like a football stadium.

At a football game, you don't want to be under the Jumbotron. The cheap seats. You want the 50 yard line. You want the front row. Or – if you're really important – a skybox with your boyfriend's mom. Oops, I meant fiance's mom. Yes, I'm talking about Tay-Tay and Trav. Move over Jeff Bezos. THIS will be the wedding of the century. Can you imagine scalper prices for those seats?

Seating matters.

So Jesus, never one to shy away from a teachable moment, tells them a parable. He says, "When you're invited to a wedding banquet, don't march up to the front and plop down like you own the place. Because someone more important might come along, and the host will have to tell you to move. (As in, "Excuse me, that's OUR pew.") And you'll be humiliated. If it's Christmas or Easter, you might even have to sit in "the front pew." Dun, dun, dunnnn!

"Instead," Jesus says, "take the lowest place. Be humble. Let the host invite you to move up." And then he drops the punchline:

"For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

Suddenly, we're not just talking about dinner anymore.

Now, on the surface this just sounds like good advice for avoiding embarrassment. But Jesus is flipping the tables on how life works. He's challenging the whole idea that our worth is measured by where we place our rear ends, or by what we wear, or who we know, or where we work, our property values, or the size of our offshore bank accounts.

In Jesus' kingdom, status doesn't climb — it kneels.

---

The climb. 

On America's Got Talent there are those acts where the acrobats stack chairs. And finally, there's one guy who climbs all the way to the top of the swaying tower. And sits there, on one chair leg. The crowd goes, "Ooooh." And Simon hits the buzzer. "Oh, it's good, but we've seen this before."

Could you imagine how long the guy in the top chair had to practice? I've never tried it, but I'd think it takes years to sit at the top. 

We're all about climbing, aren't we? From a young age, all through school, we're told: Climb! Achieve! Get noticed! Someday you'll move up. Up from the Children's Table. You could even be at the head of the table! Someday, you might ask the blessing. You might carve the turkey. It might take years. And the strategic removal of certain relatives. But work hard, practice. You'll get there.

And good, to a point. Nothing wrong with hard work to get you to the top. Labor Day exists because work matters. Labor Day exists because people matter. Even if their line of work seems lower on the spreadsheet.

Labor Day exists because 100 years ago, people got tired of working hard, and sending their children to work hard, but never getting any higher. Labor Day's not just about work; it's about working together, to make everything work better for working people.

But Jesus reminds us: when our work to get a primo place turns into self-promotion, when it becomes a scramble for attention, when it's all about stepping on the people ahead of you, when it's all about us, when it's about jumping line, cutting corners, and cutting out the people of lesser status — then our daily bread turns stale.

Climbing isn't the problem. Kicking people off the ladder is.

Jesus says, "Don't assume you're the most important person in the room." And let's be honest, that's not always easy to hear. Especially for those of us with the highest grade point average. Or those who were always picked first in gym class. (So I hear.) Or we who are used to being Number One, Kings of the world, all the time.

But here's the thing: in God's economy, in God's kingdom, there's no VIP section. There's no velvet rope. And nobody gets ahead by pretending they deserve better than others. (So says Jesus.)

---

But Jesus isn't finished preaching. Jesus doesn't stop at seating advice. He turns to the host and says, "By the way, next time you throw a party, don't just invite your friends and neighbors and all the people who can return the favor. Invite the poor. Invite people who can't pay you back. Invite the ones who never get invited anywhere."

Now, this is where it gets real.

Because let's be honest—our parties tend to be for people like us. Who look like us, whose children go to the same schools as ours, who shop at the same Publix as us, who belong to the same political parties and Facebook groups as us. Even our churches tend to be for people like us. Obviously, y'all don't want some preacher in skinny jeans who yells a lot. Trust me, if I tried to wear skinny jeans, there would be yelling.

Grouping up with people like yourself – nothing necessarily bad about that. It's just human. We like our circles. We like familiar faces. But then, we don't think to invite the guy with the sign on the corner by Walmart.

But Jesus says: Those are exactly the kind of people God notices. The ones who live in their cars, or in tents, or in jail. Jesus says those are the ones who belong at his table. Even if they haven't worked for it. Even if they haven't earned the food stamps. Anne Lamott has that great line: When we get to heaven, we're going to be very surprised to see who's sitting next to us. (She also says she hopes she gets a seat near the desert table.)

And once again, Jesus isn't talking about seating charts. He's talking about hospitality. About mercy. About including the excluded. He's talking about your heart. Who do you see as worthy of your time? Who's worthy of your kindness? Who's worthy of your attention? Who's worthy of your tax dollars?

God's guest list is… a bunch of weirdoes. God's guest list has pretty much anyone who I'd never invite to my house. God's table has seats for the overlooked, the underpaid, the awkward, the inconvenient, the immigrant, the addict. The people the world ignores or exploits or just doesn't know what to do with so it treats them like dirt.

And God says, "Yep. Them. Front row. Head table. Prime rib. The good wine."

---

Labor Day started as a way to recognize the dignity of people whose work often goes unnoticed. You know, the ones who during COVID, we called "essential." For a while. Why is it that the "essential" workers are often the ones that come with the least respect and the lowest pay, and the highest danger. Like, teachers. The ones you can't hear from way down at the other end of the table.

But not in God's kingdom.

In God's kingdom, every honest job is holy. The bus driver. The teacher. The trash collector. The person stocking shelves at 3 a.m. The PA cleaning hospital beds. As well as the neurosurgeon, the police officer, the jet pilot. Maybe even the politician. 

Not when we all get to heaven and everything's peachy. Jesus taught us to pray, "Thy kingdom come." When? Can't think of a better time than today. Hopefully, Jesus didn't want us to have to wait to get to heaven to have a seat at the big people's table.

Jesus says, "The ones on the bottom matter just as much as the one on top. Just show up. Accept the invite. Do your work. Your holy work of treating people like they're a child of God. Because they are.

Maybe the most radical thing we can do this Labor Day weekend is to stop rushing to the head of the table… and start pulling up more chairs.

---

So… Where's your seat?

That's the question Jesus leaves us with: Where are you sitting? Where do you stand?

Are you elbowing your way forward, worried someone might get ahead of you?

Are you sitting in the back, hoping someone notices?

Are you guarding your seat, afraid someone else might take it?

Are you looking around to see who's not seated at all?

Where you sit says a lot.

But maybe what really matters is where you make room.

Maybe the most blessed dinner table words we can say are, "Come over here. Sit by me."

---

So this weekend, as you fire up the grill or float in the pool or just enjoy the peace and quiet of an extra day off — remember this:

God doesn't care where you sit. God cares who's sitting next to you.

God cares who you notice.

And when we stop scrambling to prove ourselves, we might just find that the best seat… is the one we offer someone else.

In the kingdom come, it's not, "Hey, that's my seat." 

It's, "Here, take my seat.

Jesus: Breaker of Rules and Healer of Back Pain

Lk 13:10-17

2025-08-17 Jesus: Breaker of Rules and Healer of Back Pain

Trinity Presbyterian Church

 

¹⁰ Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. ¹¹ And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. ¹² When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." ¹³ When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. ¹⁴ But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured and not on the Sabbath day." ¹⁵ But the Lord answered him and said, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it to water? ¹⁶ And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?" ¹⁷ When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame, and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things being done by him.

--

 

Exodus 20 says:

"Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. ⁹ Six days you shall labor and do all your work. ¹⁰ But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. ¹¹ For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and consecrated it.

"Remember the Sabbath." That's the Fourth Commandment. Right after not taking the Lord's name in vain and just before "Honor thy father and thy mother."

So, keeping the Sabbath is pretty near the top in God's Top Ten. In Exodus 35:2, it's actually Number One. The Bible's tricky like that.

And yes, I work Sundays so you don't have to. You're welcome. And it IS true that at age five I announced I wanted to become a minister because they only work one day a week. (Ryan, that's definitely true.) That's me. A life of broken commandments and the sin of sloth.

Why is it that the ONE day you always want Chick Fil-A, they're closed? After a long hour's labor of preaching a sermon AND doing a Benediction, nothing would go down better than waffle fries and a frozen lemonade. "Would," I say. They could have picked another commandment. Don't murder. Just as good if not better. Instead of, "Closed Sunday." Their signs could say, "Our food won't kill you. That's McDonald's."

You would think. That of all people. Jesus – the Son of God – would remember – would remember and keep – every single one of the Ten Commandments. All the time. Because he's Jesus. He's perfect. You'd think he'd keep all the other essential church rules, too. Like, "No running." And, "Silence your phone." (BEFORE the funeral.)

Turns out, Jesus might have lobbied for Sunday Chick Fil-A, too. I mean, to feed someone really deserving. Like -- a preacher. Because today's scripture proves Jesus didn't mind breaking the Fourth Commandment, or the other rules, if greater things were at stake. He'd definitely work on the Sabbath. If -- for example -- your ox or your donkey needed a water break. Or a woman with spondylosis needed healing. Or some other back-bending demon had her down. And not only would Jesus break the commandment, he'd do it right under the noses of the authorities.

Maybe he was counting on a pardon. Or maybe, he thought being kind is more important than being right.

Which one IS more important? To you? Being right? Or being kind? That's the Jesus issue in this scripture. And that's the Jesus issue in our lives, too.

 

--

 

For many years I was the Stated Clerk for a Presbytery. Which meant I was the Parliamentarian, the chief scribe and Pharisee at all the meetings. I would sit up front, with the Presbyterian Book of Order under one hand, and the latest edition of Robert's Rules under the other. Their energy flowing through me. My face shone with light.

Now, you might think I really enjoyed keeping commandments. Sure. It's a thrill. But what I really enjoyed was telling other people they were wrong. Especially other pastors. "Thou shalt not amend the main motion when an unperfected substitute is on the floor. Where did you go to seminary?"

It's fun to be a Pharisee. Imagine how super-cool would it would have been, for the OG Pharisees. They got to rightfully wag a finger at Jesus himself!

"Citizen's arrest! Citizen's arrest!" Barney Fife never had it so good.

So, in today's scripture, I know which side of the aisle I would have been on. The right side. The Fourth Commandment side. God's side.

I might say something like, "That lady's been bent over for 18 years! She can wait one more day for the paperwork to be processed." Even with O-JesusCare, there are rules. And rules are rules. Otherwise, God would not have carved them in stone and posted them in classrooms. It's just law and order, Jesus. Come back tomorrow, lady.

 

Maybe Jesus anticipated the authorities would say something like that. Maybe he knew they had itchy tablet fingers. And were just looking for a reason to use those fingers to poke Jesus in the eye.

Maybe. But scripture says Jesus didn't wait for the objections. He didn't ask permission. Didn't lawyer up. Didn't say, "Wait. Is today the Sabbath? I never have a calendar." He sees the woman. Calls her over. Heals her. And that's that.

For Jesus there was no hesitation. Keep it legal? Or keep it kind? Keep his Father's rules? Or share his Father's healing love? This is Jesus. So we know where he stands. Before anyone could voice any objection, he rendered his opinion. He "erred on the side of grace." And this woman, after 18 years of being ignored, being put off, being told it's all in her head. After all that time, Jesus -- because of Jesus, because he always – always, always, always chose mercy, because Jesus was always gonna be who Jesus was, this woman – for the first time in decades -- could stand up tall and stand up proud.

And then it says: "all his opponents were put to shame, and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things being done by him." Amen and amen.

 

--

By healing on the Sabbath, Jesus did the right thing. It's just that he did it on the wrong day. What day would have been better? If you needed healing – if you need healing – today? What day would be better than today?

If you've got some kind of demons on your back, if you've got pressures weighing you down – What day would be better than today – to get them off your shoulders?

If you know someone who needs a phone call. If you know someone whose day would be truly improved by the gift of a casserole, properly wrapped and left on a porch? Smiles cost nothing. A friendly hug costs nothing. A "thank you," a "good job," a "tell me about it," an "I was just thinking about you" – every single one of these all cost nothing. People's doors are surprisingly open – open to them every day of the week. Shouldn't these be a few of the top ten commandments written on your heart?

If our opinions of ourselves – if our image of how tall we stand – if it depends on pointing out how much lower someone else seems to be because you've caught them – finally – doing something wrong – if that's what it takes to make us feel straightened out, to feel good, to feel big and tall – exactly which commandment is it we're keeping? Whose commandments are we following?

Love God. And love your neighbor as yourself. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. We can all remember these without having to lug around stone tablets to bang people over the head. The Bible is not a weapon.

But it's also true that being merciful isn't always popular. Being a peacemaker, being a caregiver to whoever needs care, seeing society's invisible people – it can get you in trouble. It got Jesus into trouble, big time. They thought they could shut him up and put him down, down in the ground. That would stop him.

But it didn't.

Jesus rose in three days to prove that love is greater than even death. To prove that mercy and forgiveness and justice and humility endure. Even after the grave.

 

--

 

After this. After Jesus heals the woman. After the crowds rejoice. After his critics hush their mouths and put away their pointy fingers. After all this, the very next thing Jesus talks about – is heaven.

I'll bet the woman who'd been staring at the ground for 18 years, I'll bet when she stood up and lifted her eyes to see the sky for the first time in a lifetime – I'll bet she felt like she must have been in heaven.

Jesus's critics must have thought they could earn their way into up heaven by keeping commandments, by climbing to the top of the leaderboard.

But instead, Jesus brought heaven down to earth. One broken person at a time. One perfectly good day at a time.

And now, it's our turn. It's our turn to heal whatever hurts we stumble into headfirst and not looking. Oh wow, is it Sunday already? You know, they also call it The Lord's Day. We can decide that every day is the Lord's Day. We can decide that every day is the day we bring mercy, and kindness, and love. Not just because it's a commandment. But because it's the Jesus thing to do.

Be right when you can. But you can always be kind. Any day. Every day. Open 24/7, 365, for that good business.

 

Who's Watching YOUR House?

Luke 12:32-40  

  

 "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  

"Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves.  

"But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour." 

 

 

Who's Watching YOUR House? 

 

Because we watch way too much HGTV, "staging" has become part of our vocabulary.  

If you're selling or buying a home, you know how important staging is.  

Staging is when you take your house and pretend someone better lives there.  

A decorator comes in and makes it look like Barbie's Dream House.  

You put in new drapes and pillows and lamps.  

You create a sim house 

with stuff you'd never buy for yourself because it clashes with juice stains and cat hair.  

They're not your household effects. 

They're special effects.  

It's all staged. 

 

 

 

 

A while back, my wife and I went to a Model Home showing.  

It was a weekend and nobody was around, not even the realtor. 

You know how model homes are.  

Staged to perfection.  

Living plants out front.  

The new house smell greets you at the door and reminds you - your house will never again smell this good.  

This realtor had really put on the dog.  

The living room had lovely knick-knacks.  

Like simulated family photos.  

Embroidered pillows.  

An aquarium with live fish. 

By the kitchen there was a little desk, with telephone and an appointment calendar.  

With appointments.  

And a stack of mail. 

And a coffee cup.  

With coffee still in it.  

 

It was right about then that we looked at each other and realized:  

The Model Home was NEXT DOOR.  

This was somebody's REAL home.  

Oh... sh.....oot. 

 

And that's the true story of the time your preacher and his wife committed a home invasion. 

 

We'll never know.  

We'll never know  

We'll never know 

if the owner of the house was out walking his dog,  

or quivering in a closet loading a shotgun. 

All we know is that the owner failed -- on a biblical basis to pay heed to scripture.  

So it was really his or her fault. 

 

For Jesus says, 

"...know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into." 

He warns (in direct quote in the King James), "Be ye therefore ready." 

 

Not staged. Ready. 

Not suited up in simulated saintliness. 

"Be ye therefore ready." 

For the Lord is coming to your house. 

And the Lord is NOT one who knocks. 

 

-- 

 

 

There's a distinction between staging and preparation.  

The two are easily confused.  

Especially in religious life. 

Staging is pretend.  

Staging is counterfeit.  

Staging is an imitation of life.  

Staging is the illusion of a real Good life. 

 

I once got an email from a Christian Magician who wanted us to pay him to come perform at our church.  

He would amaze people into following Jesus.  

However, he wanted us to know he himself was NOT Jesus.  

His website had the disclaimer, "The Amazing [Kevin?] does not perform miracles.  

"He merely performs illusions." 

"Illuuuuusions, Michael." 

I have to tell you: I was tempted. 

If The Amazing [Kevin?] can turn water into wine, that's worth investigating. 

 

But, no, by his own admission, he is neither a miracle-worker nor a sorcerer, hopefully, because Revelation 21:8 says "those who practice magic arts will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur" – and that is NOT kid-friendly. 

Staging.  

Staging is so much easier than having to be truly amazing. 

 

 

Every so often I get behind a car with a bumper sticker that says, "Read the Bible." Or 

"Keep the Ten Commandments." 

They don't even say, "Please."  

No explanation.  

Not enough room.  

Keep 'em. Just do it, y'all.  

 

Surely, keeping the Ten Commandments is a very good thing. 

Everyone should do it.  

But why stop there?  

 

A careful reader of scripture would know that God was just getting started with those tablets.  

Jewish teachers will tell you there are 613 commandments in the Old Testament.[1]  

Christian scholars have counted one thousand five hundred commandments in the New Testament.[2]  

Together, that's one-thousand six-hundred and sixty-three commandments.  

1663 boxes to tick.  

But I think you know -- that even if you could keep all those commandments, so what?  

Would that get you into The Good Place? 

Or just make you paranoid? 

Or arrogant. 

That like Lebron James, you were setting records every time you suited up? 

"I've kept one-thousand-four-hundred-fifty-one." 

"Beat that, hoser." 

 

My dog  

My dog obeys far less than ten commands - two, maybe three if I have a treat in my hand - but that's not what makes him a good boy.  

Rote obedience – or being bribed with treats – or being threatened with a newspaper (if you can find one) – is just spiritual staging.  

You're just arranging the furniture in order to negotiate a better price. 

 

 

So, when Jesus speaks about the man whose house was broken into, he's talking about something more than staging. 

More than putting up a sign saying, Open House, in the yard of your neighbor you don't like. 

Jesus is talking about preparation. 

 

Preparation, is an act of hope.  

Preparation is not amazing.  

Preparation can be kind of boring. 

Preparation is the unpleasant act of doing your homework (kids).  

Homework today will not make your life feel real good.  

Homework is dreaded preparation in the hope that someday you might have a good, real life.  

See the difference? 

Jesus did. 

 

Jesus preached all the time about the difference between a real good life and a good, real life.  

One is staged, an illusion.  

The other is hopeful, true.  

A good, real life takes preparation - because you never know who or what's going to be walking in your door.  

Sometimes literally.  

A good, real life takes preparation because events good and bad WILL invade your personal sanctuary. 

And when they do, which do you want?  

A pretty, staged faith?  

Or good, real faith? 

 

-- 

 

 

I think the end of today's scripture is really at its beginning. 

Jesus is apparently talking to people who are afraid.  

Afraid of what?  

We don't know.  

Afraid of intruders?  

Afraid of terrorists?  

Afraid of active shooters?  

Or immigrants? 

Or trans people beating your children in sports? 

It's a long list getting longer every day. 

Nearly 1663 items long. 

 

Fear is fear. 

Fear makes you stockpile whatever makes you feel safe.  

Jesus says to the fearful ones: 

"Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."  

 

"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." 

 

You see, even though Jesus uses illustrations about theft it's not about the thieves.  

It's not about the loss.  

 

The stuff that can be taken from you?  

The physical stuff?  

Your possessions, some of which came at great price?  

Jesus says, sell 'em.  

Sell them and give the money to the poor.  

I don't think he's saying it as a commandment.  

Although if you can pull it off, good for you.  

 

I think Jesus is trying to make a bigger point.  

If your life is just staged,  

if your life is about looking real good, or feeling real good,  

or ticking off the boxes real good, then,  

you get what you pay for.  

And that's all. 

 

If your life is about the fear of losing things, then, you might get to keep what you've paid for – but for how long? 

 

But, if your life is about the people who make life worth living, then, you're stumbling into something better. 

 

If your life is a work of preparation,  

if your life is good because it is real, real in Christ,  

real in spirit,  

real in love and  

real in mercy,  

...if your life is true to Jesus's spirit of holiness, then, 

you will find treasure inside your doors and out.  

You will find your treasure in your heart.  

You will find your treasure in the things you love, in those people you love, who are with you now, and in those whose spirit is with you always. 

 

-- 

[1]https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/613_commandments 

[2]https://www.cai.org/bible-studies/1050-new-testament-commands 

What's In YOUR Wallet? Really?

Luke 12:13-21

James McTyre

Trinity Presbyterian Church

August 3, 2025

In my Bible, the title of this scripture is, “The Rich Fool.”

People don’t realize it, but these titles aren’t part of the Bible. The Apostles didn’t write headlines. They didn’t tweet pithy one-liners describing what they’re about to say.

These headers are written by the Bible Editors. And who, you ask, are the Bible Editors? They’re probably nice people. Some of them might be religious. Some might have seminary degrees. I’m betting most of them are English Majors, desperate to find employment after four years of reading Sylvia Plath and attempting to start the Great American Novel with their 22 years of life experience. College graduates, who got Masters’ degrees to make themselves more attractive to employers paying more than public schools. Who are now terrified that their skills are already replaced by ChatGPT and they’ll soon be back, living at home, and working at Starbucks. Who lucked into a job with Zondervan or some other Bible-publishing, Bible-marketing, and Bible-selling corporation. Who, perhaps, are reading the paragraphs of divinely inspired gospel for the first time and wondering who this Jesus guy is.

So, after hours of staring at a blank Microsoft Office screen, finally come up with their one-line masterpiece, which they have test-group workshopped with their partner they’re definitely going to be spending the rest of their life with, their volunteer writing coach, and their cat.

And now, here it is in final, edited form: “The Rich Fool.”

It’s very good. It’s good enough to assist readers, guide believers, inform skeptics, and impress their mothers. Best of all, it will justify their meager publishing house paycheck, pay part of the rent, buy a few beers, in cans, groceries at Trader Joe’s, and provide them half a month more of what we have come to know as a (quote) lifestyle.

The editor whose headline will soon stick like super glue in the minds of a statistically significant sales demographic of Bible-buying readers, scanners, Facebook posters, holds an index finger above the touchpad, takes a breath, and clicks, “Send.”

A day’s work is done. The Slack status is set to “away.” The laptop top of the company-provided computer is shut with pleased sigh.

The tennis shoes are laced, the afternoon run begins, and the world will know the man from Luke 12:16-21 as, “The Rich Fool” for the shelf-life of this edition of this translation of this version of this English-language Bible.

All of this is to say that when you read your Bible, don’t take the headlines as the word of God.

It’s highly likely that these tweetable one-liners are more often written by poor fools than rich ones. People like you and me who just want to get to the next paycheck with health coverage, a little disposable income, and a barn big enough to start a 401(k).

 

The difference between a rich fool and a poor one is a matter of perspective.

In either case, word of emphasis is “fool.”

The difference between a fool and a wise person isn’t what’s in their wallet, their bank account, or their crypto vault. The fool-meter rises or falls based on the self-awareness in our minds, in our hearts, in our souls, or whatever internal wallet we carry – most often physically located in – where else? Our back pockets.

Our money, our phones, our personal weight rests not where our mouths are, but down and around at the other end.

The Fool is not the rich man in the Bible building barns for his wealth. The Fool is anyone who thinks wealth or its lack determines the value of our souls.

“But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you.”

Night or day, rich or poor, foolish or wise – what's in our wallet isn’t enough to pay life’s rent.

--

I was coming out the door of Taco Bell one lunchtime, having enjoyed the richness of a Supreme Gordita, when a man stood waiting for me on the other side of the door.

I thought he wanted to come inside, so I held the door for him.

He started muttering at me.

“Uh, oh,” I thought. I recognized him as one of the street people who I’ve seen walking up and down.

Beard. Wild hair. Pants in various levels of zipped.

I walked on, and figured he’d go on inside, which is what he looked like he was going to do.

On the way to my car, and above all the sounds of the street, I could hear muttering, following me. Real close.

I turned around and there he was, about two steps behind, muttering about how I was coming out of Taco Bell and wouldn’t stop, and he needed a dollar and a quarter.

I stopped carrying cash back in the 1900’s.

So I was being honest when I told him,

“I’m sorry, I don’t have it.”

“Well how about just a quarter, then?” he said.

He was lowering his price, fast.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” I said to him.

And I got in my car and drove off, the weight of a Supreme Gordita weighing heavy on my stomach as I watched him in my rear view mirror going into Taco Bell, seeking out his next prey.

I hope you don’t think less of me now. I think less of me, because of deeply engrained religious guilt.

Ministers are supposed to know what to do in these situations.

We’re supposed to do the right thing.

I’ve been told that the right thing to do is to say no to handing out money, but to offer to buy a meal for the person.

I could have done that. But I had drank a lot of Baja Blast and needed to be on my way.

What would Jesus have done?

I couldn’t escape the feeling that whatever Jesus would do, I hadn’t done it.

Was it that I didn’t want to spend the money? Was it that I didn’t want to spend the time? Was it lack of concern? Was it selfishness?

Or is handing out money to street people just a bad idea?

Maybe all of the above.

I went back to my office, sat down, and read this week’s lectionary passage.

The one where the rich guy is told:

“You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?”

“Whose value meal will that be after you’re gone?”

Sometimes God has a really nasty way of making a point.

The dilemma of what to do with your money – how to earn it, how to use it, and how to give it away – was as much a part of life in Jesus’ time as it is in ours.

Jesus talked an incredible amount about money, but it’s funny, we don’t read those passages in church very often, except at Stewardship season.

I think the point God might have been trying to make in my life – not at the pearly gate of heaven but at the door of the Taco Bell is the same point Jesus is making in today’s passage.

It’s always Stewardship season.

Every day, we’re faced with the decision:

Am I a rich fool? Or a poor one?

Am I as wise as I think I am? Or am I a fool?

Are the people nearest me rich? Or poor? Or wise? Or fools?

Every day, when our lives are demanded of us, how will we answer the demand?

What’s in YOUR wallet?

And how does it matter?

Does it matter?

Sam Jackson – and maybe Jennifer Garner -- is waiting for our answer.

--

Between me and the man at what we shall euphemistically and generously call, “the restaurant,"

Between him and me, I know which one the people Jesus hung out with most resembled.

And I would imagine the audience would have gotten a good chuckle out the rich fool’s plight.

They might have said something like, “Hey, Elon. Who’s the smart one now?”

“What’s in YOUR wallet, rich boy?”

I think Jesus’s parable would have been comforting.

To them.

To those of us who do have things in our wallet, the story stings a little. Or a lot.

The question isn’t whether we’re rich or whether we’re poor.

The question is whether we’re wise... or fools.

Today and every day, our lives are demanded of us.

Today and every day, our assets are demanded of us.

Are they indexed to the market?

Or are they measured by the generosity, the wisdom, the love, of Jesus?

What does it mean for us to be “rich toward God?”

Today.

Neither Sam nor Jen is asking.

Your conscience is asking.

Your soul is asking.

Your God is asking.

What’s in your heart?

And where is it located?

Our Sister, The Resister

2016-07-17 Lk 10:38-42
Our Sister The Resister

---

Brief Summary

This sermon reflects on the story of Mary and Martha, where Martha is busy serving while Mary sits and listens to Jesus. The pastor explores how society often praises people like Martha who stay busy and productive, while Mary's quiet act of sitting and learning was radical in her time. Mary broke cultural norms to be close to Jesus, showing that sometimes the "better part" is simply to be still, listen, and resist distractions, expectations, and busyness to focus on what really matters.

---

Family Discussion Questions

1. Who do you feel more like today – Martha, who was busy and distracted, or Mary, who sat still and listened to Jesus? Why?

2. What are some things in your life that keep you "busy in the other room" and away from being close to Jesus?

3. What would it look like for you, or our family, to "choose the better part" this week?

---

38 Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. 39 She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying. 40 But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me." 41 But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; 42 there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."
 
It's not the heat; it's the humidity.

Actually, it IS the heat.

AND it's the humidity.

I take the dog for walks around 9pm.

He needs to walk.

I need to walk.  

But even when the sun is sinking low, Bandit resists.  

Too hot to get in steps, says he.

He sits down in the street, or lays down on the grass and refuses to move.

He looks at me like this.

That Gen Z stare.

I pull the leash.

I encourage him with sweet talk.

He stares.

I preach to him about the sin of sloth.

He yawns.

I inform him that as a preacher I am unaffected by yawning (and occasional snoring).

Yall start bringing your cpaps to church, that's when I know I'm in trouble.

I explain to Bandit, distant cousin of Krypto, the Superdog, we must be up and on our way, for we have about half a mile to go before we sleep.  

We have steps to count.  

A schedule to keep.

We must resist the temptation to sloth.

 

Now, I'm sure Pensacola isn't the hottest place this side of Satan's lair.

I imagine Jerusalem can get pretty toasty, too.

But, in the Bible, when Our Savior healed the lame, not one of them said, "But, Master, it's too hot to rise up and walk."  

"Have you seen the heat index?"

Sitting still and sniffing the evening breeze (what breeze there is) serves no productive purpose.

But.

If you're a follower of Jesus, do you always have to be productive?

Is your product, your content, your output what Jesus really wants?

In the scripture today, Martha says, "Yes."  

Meanwhile, Mary just sits there, sniffing the breeze, listening to Jesus teach with big, puppy dog eyes.  

Mindful and demure.

Which sister are you?

Which sister is right?

--

 

Do you feel guilty when you are serving no productive purpose?

Of course you do.

This is a church full of Marthas.

Type A movers and shakers.

We might shake a little, but by God, we're still moving.

Some people say you should be still in church.

It's what we tell children.

"Be still, Hezekiah"

But church Marthas (like moi) say,  

"Get busy."

Join a committee.  

Get a workout opening your wallet.

Stand up, sit down, repeat these words.

Get your heart rate up.

It's good for ya.

 

 

Do any of you have a sister, Martha?

I think at least one of you IS a sister Martha.

Or perhaps you have a brother, Marty?

Maybe she or he goes by another name, an alias, to hide the biblical truth of their git-it-all-dun right now nature.

Martha-Marty.

Maybe yours isn't a sister or brother, but a friend, a parent, a child who's ruthlessly concerned about correcting your shortcomings.

Pointing out where you missed a spot.

How you could have done better.

No matter how hard you work, no matter how well-off you become, Martha-Marty is always going to call and ask what you're DOING (in that tone) and if you've been taking your medicine and if you've lost those pounds yet.

A skilled Martha-Marty helps you by finding opportunities for improvement.

It's their spiritual gift.

Why, you could even be sitting at the feet of Jesus and they'd still find fault.

Well, actually, Mary was.

Mary was sitting at the feet of Jesus himself.

And not even that was good enough for her Martha.

Sisters. Sisters.

 

--

And then, there's Mary.

Sweet little Mary.

I'll bet Mary didn't even hear the clanging pots and pans in the kitchen. Focused.

Imagine, leaving her poor Martha to do the work of serving 13 men in the baking heat of the day, toiling over a burning oven, while she, little Mary, just sits.

On the cool ground.

Not even walking.

Slacker.

Mary didn't only lack initiative; she lacked compassion.

She cared not.

She neglected her job, her duty to her own sister.

Not even Jesus would deny that.

Jesus, who presumably did not go home hungry that night.

Jesus and his stomach benefitted far more from multitasking Martha than from meditative Mary.

 

And yet.

 

Let's not pretend we don't know how the story ends.

Jesus pronounces benediction over Mary, and scolds Martha.

Read it again. He does it every time.

 

'Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.

Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.'

 

--

 

I have heard so many superficial, modern-day interpretations of these words.

"Don't be so busy."

"Slow down and smell the roses."  

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."  

Yes, but it keeps people off Jack's back.

The beauty of obeying your inner Martha is that you earn your resentment fair and square.

It's your part, which will not be taken away from you.

And so at your funeral they can say, "Yes, he worked so hard, and he was always very resentful."

Nobody wants that.

To go beyond the superficial, modern-day nagging not to multitask, you have to think about what productive purpose Mary might have served, if any, and the two sisters' purpose beyond fixing supper.

 

--

 

Our ideas about Mary and her sister are colored by our own society.

Maybe Mary truly was allergic to work.

A real medical condition.

Made her tired and sweaty.

Took time away from scrolling scrolls.

After all, the little deadbeat was still living in her sister's home.

 

But we don't see Mary through the eyes of people who would have read and heard this story back in Jesus's time.

Back then, for a woman NOT to be in the kitchen – was sinful.

Mary was a bad girl.

A woman's place was in the kitchen, or the birthing suite, producing baby boys.

Furthermore, for a woman to be educated, openly schooled by a rabbi, was unheard of.

You start letting females read, and drive cars, and vote – they'll start to think they can... become president, or some other silly idea.

Back then, for a woman to be taught by a religious teacher, to be regarded as a disciple, in this case an apostle, who saw and heard (and helped fund the ministry of) the living Christ, was scandalous.  

Practically impossible.

Mary was a rebel.  

Mary was the resistance.

Mary was the one committing acts of equality and inclusion.

Sorry, it's in the Bible.

 

Mary is a dangerous, uppity, example.

She did not know her place.

For her to dare sit at the feet of Jesus, equal with his hand-picked twelve men disciples, well.

Martha's fussing was not mere sibling rivalry.

Martha spoke for all those who wanted Mary to get back where she belonged and to stop this non-violent sit-in against tradition.

Mary, meanwhile, is a poke in the eye of any Martha who sees her as less than what she is, a disciple of Jesus Christ.

If we are Martha-ish, Martha-fied,  

Then Mary is our sister, the resister.

 

 

--

 

If you have been outside this summer, you know that every seat is a hot seat.

Physically, politically, socially, this heated season of life is the summer of our discontent, disagreement, maybe discouragement.

People want you to move, in one way or another – to the left, to the right, to the extremes.

They push and they pull to motivate you to support this cause or that, this side or that, this person or that.

I mean, really.

You turn on the news and you can almost hear Jesus saying,  

"Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things."

Oh, and here's another thing to worry about.

Here's another.

We'd all like things to be just great.

Again.  

Or maybe for the first time.

Work harder.

Work smarter.

Here's an AI to do the thinking for you.

Oh wait.  

It's a Nazi.

Don't ask why.

You wouldn't understand it.

Why is unimportant these days.

Just be this. Or be that.  

Be one of the "many things."

 

 

We don't see the courage it took for Mary to sit at the feet of Jesus.

It took so much courage for her to ignore the voice of Martha – to step outside her family, outside her tradition, outside the rules.

It took guts to turn a deaf ear to the faceless voices from the other room, the ones calling on Jesus to make that hippie nerd Mary feel guilty for choosing "the better part."

And maybe there's the catch.

Mary didn't want to be great – again or for the first time.

She wanted to be better.

 

--

Jesus tells Martha:  

"Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."

Mary's better part was sitting at the feet of Jesus and learning.

What would Martha's better part have been?

What is that "better part" for you?

It takes time for us to discern what is "the better part" for ourselves.

It takes prayer to discern what is "the better part" for our church.

It takes a lot of time to take Holy Cow surveys and go to meetings, and have votes, and be so stinkin' slow Presbyterians.

Sometimes it can feel like we're just sitting still watching the grass grow.

When everything in society is trying to open departments of efficiency,  

it takes courage to sit still and listen at the feet of Jesus,  

when so many hands are yanking your leash.

 

 

Psalm 46 says, "Be still and know that I am God."  

We forget how much courage that verse takes.

We've got more than enough heated argument, more than enough verbal violence.

We've got more than enough, "I told you so's" and "Tell her to" do this or "Tell him to" do that.

We don't need more guilt on our shoulders.

We don't need more snark and gossip.

We don't need more resentment.

We need the strength to sit at the feet of Jesus, to be still and know that we are NOT God.

And neither is anyone on the news.

 

 

To take the heat at his feet.

Who's to say this isn't our true, productive purpose?

To be resisters for Jesus's sake.

Resisters of what?

I don't know.

What do you have cooking that keeps you in the other room?  

What keeps you away from Jesus?

Which sister are you?

Which sister do you wish you were?

 

 

--

For further reading

 

[1]https://hinnewagenaar.frl/articles/it-will-not-be-taken-away-from-her/

 

https://eewc.com/Articles/a-new-view-of-mary-and-martha/