“Faith and works: meeting god in the midst”

Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent

Scripture: Luke 10: 38-42

"Are you a Mary or a Martha?"

It's a familiar question—one that often gets reduced to a false choice. Do you work hard like Martha, tending to meals, schedules, and responsibilities? Or do you sit in contemplation like Mary, choosing presence over productivity?

But this is the wrong question.

In this series, rather of turning Mary and Martha into rivals, we are encouraged to instead ask: What kind of faith and works relationship do we need? How do we create something new—not by choosing one over the other, but by holding both together?

The truth is, Jesus isn’t asking us to pick sides. He is inviting us into something deeper.

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One of the first things to notice in this passage is that Martha is the one who welcomes Jesus in.

This is crucial. It is her act of hospitality that makes space for Jesus in the first place. Before she ever becomes “distracted by many things,” her initial response is faithfulness. She recognises Jesus, invites him in, and prepares for him.

Martha has often been portrayed as anxious, too caught up in work, missing the “better part.” But the problem is not that she is serving. The problem is that she has been conditioned to believe she must do it all.

Martha’s exhaustion is not just about what she is doing but why she feels she has to do it. She is caught in a system—one that tells her that her worth comes from productivity, from meeting expectations, from making sure everything is in order.

And this is where Jesus speaks into her exhaustion:

"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."

Jesus does not say, “Stop working.” He does not say, “Your work is unimportant.” What he does is free her—reminding her that she is not defined by what she accomplishes.

Martha is not just being invited to rest. She is being invited to step out of a system that has placed too much on her shoulders.

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This passage comes immediately after the parable of the Good Samaritan. There, Jesus tells a story about doing. The Samaritan acts—binding wounds, lifting a stranger onto his own animal, paying for his care. The lesson is clear: Don’t just stand there, do something!

And now, in the very next moment, Jesus seems to say the opposite: Don’t just do something, sit there!

Which is it?

The answer is both.

Jesus isn’t saying that action is bad or that stillness is always better. Instead, he’s teaching us that faith requires rhythm—a movement between doing and being, serving and listening, pouring out and being filled.

One without the other is incomplete.

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Mary and Martha are not opponents; they are sisters. They are bound to each other, and their relationship challenges us to ask ourselves some questions:

• How do our actions reflect our faith?

• How does our faith shape our actions?

• What would it look like to create something together—where both work and presence are honoured?

Dr. Sharp invites us to think beyond the question of “who is right” and instead ask: What are we making together? What kind of community are we building?

Too often, we fall into the trap of sibling rivalry—trying to outdo each other, proving our worth through work or through knowledge, competing for Jesus’ attention. But what if we stopped measuring ourselves against each other and started supporting one another?

What if Martha didn’t just work for Mary, but with Mary? What if Mary didn’t just sit near Martha, but with Martha? 

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Laurel Dykstra challenges us to ask whether our churches are places of mutuality—where both faith and works are honoured.

• Are we making room for all people to sit at Jesus’ feet?

• Are we supporting those who are burdened by endless service, helping them step into a space of grace?

• Are we ensuring that everyone gets time to both work and rest?

This is not just an individual question—it is a question for the church as a whole.

If the church values only work, we burn out our most faithful servants.
If the church values only learning, we ignore the needs of the world around us.
But if the church values both, we create a community where faith and action nourish one another.

This is the kind of discipleship Jesus calls us to—a rhythm of faith and works, where no one is left out, where no one carries the weight alone.

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Nadia Bolz-Weber reminds us that "the moment we begin to believe that the Kingdom of God is upheld by our own two hands is the moment we lose sight of the main thing."

Martha, in her love for Jesus, has come to believe that it all depends on her. The meal, the home, the moment. But Jesus reminds her that the Kingdom of God is not built by effort alone.

And Mary, in her devotion, is not praised for doing nothing. She is praised for choosing—for recognizing that sometimes, sitting in the presence of God is itself an act of faith.

Faith and works belong together, not in competition, but in partnership.

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Lent is a season of learning to hold these two together.

We are called to serve—to seek justice, to care for the hungry, to build something tangible and real.
We are also called to sit—to listen, to learn, to be filled by God’s presence before we pour ourselves out again.

If all we do is work, we burn out. If all we do is sit, we miss the call to love our neighbours.

But in the space between—in the rhythm of faith and works, action and presence—we meet Jesus.

Martha served Jesus.
Mary sat with Jesus.
Both were acts of love.

And in that love, something new is created—something beyond productivity, beyond rivalry, beyond choosing sides.

May this season of Lent be a time of finding that balance, of moving between work and rest, of trusting that we do not hold the Kingdom of God alone.

Because God is already here.

Working.
Resting.
Calling us into the space in between.

Amen.