Anxiety and the Christian Life: Part Six
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%2010%3A38-42&version=NLT
The Better Portion
A Reflection on the Anxiety of Good Responsibilities
Not all anxiety comes from crisis or trauma. In fact, much of the anxiety we carry comes from good things—responsibilities, relationships, and expectations we are trying to carry out faithfully.
That is where this story begins.
In Luke 10, Jesus enters a village and is welcomed into the home of Martha. Her sister Mary sits at His feet, listening to His teaching. Meanwhile, Martha moves through the house, preparing a meal, managing the details, making sure everything is just right. Luke tells us that “Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.”
That word “distracted” is vivid. It means to be pulled apart, to be drawn in different directions at once. It is the feeling of being stretched thin, as though the demands of life might tear you in two. It is, in many ways, the language of anxiety.
To understand Martha, we need to understand her world. In first-century Jewish culture, hospitality was not optional. It was a moral obligation, especially when the guest was a respected teacher, a close friend, or family. Hosting Jesus was both an honor and a responsibility. It would have meant preparing food not only for Him, but likely for the group traveling with Him as well. Martha is not doing something unnecessary. She is doing exactly what she is supposed to do.
But something shifts.
What begins as faithful service slowly becomes overwhelming. Good responsibility turns into pressure. Hospitality becomes burden. Service becomes comparison. And eventually, anxiety spills out in frustration: “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me.”
At first glance, this sounds like a complaint about Mary. But underneath it is something deeper. Martha feels unseen, unsupported, and overwhelmed. Most of us know that feeling. We know what it is to be carrying something good that has become heavy.
Jesus’ response is striking, not because it is harsh, but because it is so gentle. “Martha, Martha,” He says, calling her name twice, not in frustration, but in care. “You are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the better portion, and it will not be taken from her.”
There is a subtle wordplay here that is easy to miss in English. The word Jesus uses—“portion”—is the Greek word μερίδα (merida). It can refer to a share, an allotment, or even a serving of food. In a room filled with dishes, preparation, and dinner anxiety, Jesus is gently reframing the moment. Martha is focused on many dishes, many portions to prepare. Mary has chosen the better portion—the one thing truly needed.
This is not a rebuke so much as an invitation.
It is important to hear what Jesus is not saying. He is not condemning service. He is not criticizing responsibility. He is not suggesting that meals do not need to be prepared or that practical work does not matter. Someone had to cook. Someone had to serve. Martha is not wrong for doing those things.
The issue is more subtle and more searching. Martha’s activity has begun to crowd out her awareness of Jesus’ presence. She is so focused on making the moment work that she is no longer able to receive the moment itself. She has become so concerned with hosting Jesus that she is missing Him.
It is a little like a parent on a family vacation who is so busy taking pictures, planning the schedule, and making sure everything goes smoothly that they forget to actually enjoy being with their family. The photos may turn out beautifully, but the person was never fully present. In the same way, Martha is trying to make the visit perfect, while Mary is receiving the gift of the visit itself.
Jesus calls that—the simple act of being with him—the “better portion.” Not because the meal does not matter, but because communion always matters more than presentation.
This story names a kind of anxiety that is very common, especially among people who care deeply. It is the anxiety of being over-responsible. It is the pressure of keeping everything running, of not letting people down, of making sure nothing falls apart. Like Martha, our anxiety often grows around good things: our work, our families, our churches, and our care for others.
Scripture does not shame that kind of anxiety. It recognizes it. We see it even in the holy family. In Luke 2, Mary and Joseph lose track of twelve-year-old Jesus during a crowded journey to Jerusalem. When they realize He is missing, they panic and search for Him for three days. This is parental anxiety—real, human, and understandable. We also hear it in Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians, where he speaks of the “daily pressure” he carries for the churches. Responsibility and love often come with weight.
The problem is not that we care. The problem is what happens when our care turns into control, and when our responsibility begins to define our worth.
That is why Paul, writing later in Philippians, does not deny anxiety but redirects it: “Do not worry about anything; instead, pray about everything… Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand.” Scripture does not pretend anxiety is absent. It invites us to bring it back into God’s presence.
Jesus’ words to Martha move in the same direction. He is not asking her to abandon her responsibilities. He is inviting her to re-center them. He is reminding her that her worth is not measured by how well she manages the moment, but by her relationship with Him.
So what might it look like to choose the “better portion” in everyday life?
One simple practice is what I would call calendar consecration. Take a look at your week and notice where anxiety tends to spike. Where do responsibilities pile up? Where do you feel most stretched or pressured? Then, intentionally place five or ten minutes of unhurried time with God near those moments. Not to fix everything. Not to become more productive. Simply to be present. To choose, again and again, the better portion.
In the end, this story points us beyond Martha and Mary to Jesus Himself. Jesus knew what it was to be busy, to be interrupted, to carry responsibility. And yet He consistently chose presence with the Father before performance for others. He did not withdraw from real life, but He refused to let activity replace communion.
So if you feel like Martha today—pulled in many directions, worried about many things—listen again to the way Jesus speaks your name. Not with frustration, but with gentleness: “You are worried and upset about many things. But one thing is necessary.”
The best portion is not on your table. It is not on your calendar. It is not something you earn through effort.
It is Christ Himself.
And that portion will not be taken from