Every year during the stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I find myself in a reflective state of mind. Of course, if you know me, then you know that’s where I live. With the turkey leftovers gone and the Advent calendar half-empty, I look back on all the plans I had going into the holiday season and lament how little came to fruition.
Even in the years when Becky and I attended every Christmas event and drove through every light display, I always felt like I should have stopped and spent time thinking on the incarnation and the audaciousness of God’s love and grace.
The question that always plagues my mind is WHY? Where did I go wrong? At the beginning of November, it seemed like the opportunities for a meaningful season were virtually unlimited, but then reality set in.
Perhaps the greatest reason I don’t experience more of the “peace” of the season is what I alluded to in the first paragraph: I spend a lot of time thinking. I am a very introspective and analytical person. I invest great amounts of time considering options, making decisions, and reevaluating decisions, and I can’t turn that off.
Picture Dr. House meets George Costanza. (I’ll let you decide the percentages.) I am not and will never be the person who walks into a store, sees a gift for his wife, and makes a quick purchasing decision.
Take, for example, buying Becky a simple pair of slippers. I stand in the aisle and descend into the abyss: How resilient is this memory foam? Will it flatten out by February? Is this ‘blush’ pink or ‘bashful’ pink? Does it clash with her robe?
Wait, does she even wear that robe anymore? Should I buy a new robe instead? Are the online reviews real or written by bots programmed by Big Slipper? Wait, does she even wear slippers?
By the time I’ve analyzed the thermal properties of the lining, Christmas is days away, my joy is gone, and I’m no closer to the “Peace on Earth” I’m supposed to be celebrating.
If you think I’m just being silly with my account of slipper shopping, you need to know that I do this with almost everything I buy.
Definitely more Costanza in me.
THE BIBLICAL CONNECTION
This isn’t just a shopping problem; it’s a spiritual one. And I’m not the first person to struggle with it.
When Jesus visited the home of Mary and Martha, Martha was “distracted with much serving” (Luke 10:40). But the real issue wasn’t her work—it was her worry. Jesus said, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things” (Luke 10:41).
That word “troubled” means to be inwardly turbulent, mentally fragmented, thrown into confusion. Martha wasn’t just busy; she was spinning. She was likely doing exactly what I do in the slipper aisle: calculating the meal prep, analyzing her sister’s lack of help, projecting future failures, and second-guessing her menu choices—all at once.
Meanwhile, Mary sat at Jesus’ feet. She wasn’t smarter or more spiritual. She just chose simplicity over analysis. She chose presence over performance.
Jesus told Martha, “One thing is needed” (Luke 10:42). Not ten things. Not a perfectly researched list of things. One thing.
THE APPLICATION
During the Christmas season, I am often more Martha than Mary. I want to analyze the traditions, manage the schedule, compare the gift options, and make sure everything is “just right.” But decision fatigue wears down my spiritual muscle.
The mental fragmentation that keeps me spinning in a store aisle—or more likely, scrolling through page after page on Amazon—is the same fragmentation that keeps me from sitting still long enough to marvel at the incarnation.
Jesus offers the antidote: One thing is needed.
Mary chose to sit at His feet. She chose presence over productivity, wonder over worry. And Jesus said that choice—that singular focus on Him—would not be taken away from her (Luke 10:42).
Between now and Christmas, I want to spend less time being “troubled about many things” and more time choosing the one thing: sitting in the presence of the God who loved us audaciously enough to become one of us. That’s the only decision that truly matters.