Martha and Mary

We meet this morning on a challenging day.  The unusually high levels of rainfall this last week left the slurry pond on Willow Farm at an abnormally high level, and I'm afraid that it broke its banks this morning just as I was leaving for chapel.

I give praise that the builders of the Manse built it like a house on a hill, that its light might shine upon the surroundings. And therefore though the slurry may rage and pour down towards Lower Lane, my manse, built on the rock of solid sandstone, will stand firm.

Not so for those who live in Lower Lane, many of whom now have to look forward to an afternoon of clearing slurry from the lower levels of their houses and wondering what they will ever be able to do with their gardens. It is not normally my way to offer words of worldly wisdom in sermons but on this occasion - firstly I am sure that the Lord won't mind if you break the Sabbath just this once in these circumstance, and secondly the authorities have made it quite clear you can't clear the slurry out of your houses straight into the brook. You'll have to hire some skips and pay for it to be taken to landfill.
I see on the faces of some from Lower Lane a gathering realisation. You left for chapel early this morning, to prepare the tea-making equipment, hand out the hymn books and Bibles, arrange the flowers and ensure that all was in order and ready for this morning's Divine Worship. You had no idea that a flood of slurry was even then preparing to sweep all your belongings out of your lower-floor windows. But consider.

What would Mary do?

Imagine that same tidal wave of slurry were rushing towards the little house in Bethany. Martha - practical, silly, worldly Martha - would be rushing around, boarding up the windows - putting sandbags round the door - in short, worrying about all the things the Gentiles worry about. And where would Mary be? At the feet of her Lord. Listening to his words. Knowing that she was safe there, in his presence, even though her sister at that point was up to her waist in the most hideous fluid known to Mankind, beating about her helplessly with a shovel in an attempt to keep the house clear.

Only one thing is needed, and we will pray for the people of Lower Lane, considering the hideous afternoon and evening they will face, during our Intercessions for the World, even Though it Doesn't Deserve it.
For the avoidance of doubt, the doors to the Chapel are locked, and will remain so until Divine Worship has completed. And now we sing our next hymn, the one with 27 verses that we all love so well, Trust and Obey, For There's No Other Way, Except Condemnation for Harbouring Evil Doubt in our Hearts.