A conversation with a contemporary Martha and Mary

One afternoon I was prompted to take my laptop and work at a local coffee shop. Actually I hoped to find college students there who I wanted to engage in conversation.

When I got to the shop, the place was empty of customers. So much for my plan, I thought. Instead I struck up a conversation with the woman working the counter. Eventually I learned her name is Martha, although she goes by Marty. I ordered a coffee, then allowed her to talk me into a monster cookie, which I should have resisted.

“So do you get a lot of college students here?” I asked. Marty said the college students tend to stay on campus and spend their coffee cash there. We talked about the community, and I told Marty I’ve just begun as pastor of the Mennonite church in town.

“Tell me,” I asked, “what does this community need from its churches?” Marty immediately talked about people who can’t afford food and those who are homeless. The church could be doing more to help people with tangible needs, Marty said.

“Are the churches here relevant?” I asked. “How do you see them?” Marty was opening up. She candidly told me she felt churches here, maybe everywhere, tend to be exclusive, serving themselves rather than others. Religion doesn’t seem to go beyond Sunday morning. She did allow that Mennonites tend to do a little better at living out our faith than others.

During our conversation a pajama-clad high school student came in and ordered a muffin and something to drink. After serving her, Marty came out and sat down at the table between the one I sat at with my coffee and monster cookie and the table where Mary, the high school girl, sat with her muffin. Our conversation continued, and Mary was drawn into it.

Marty made it clear that church was something she had tried, a classic “been there done that” response. Church isn’t for her, prayer doesn’t work and she claims she’s really not concerned with spiritual things. In response to a question, Mary piped up, admitting her struggle with how God can allow terrible things to happen.

“Perhaps it’s not God’s fault; perhaps it’s people’s fault, due to sin,” I suggested. I also acknowledged there was truth in Marty’s critique of the church, and I apologized for the bad press we Christians have too often earned for God.

“So what’s your story,” we asked Mary. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of problems, you don’t want to hear my story,” she said. But I prodded her, and with amazing openness she shared that her parents are religious, which makes her feel pressured and leaves her confused, even though she respects and loves them. Mary also admitted she struggles with other issues, which we talked about briefly. “Marty told us where she is at with God,” I ventured. “How about you?” I asked Mary. She said she is not sure whether or not God is real. I encouraged her to ask God, if he is real to show himself to her. “Keep asking him, and then be watching.”

So there I sat, talking with Mary and Martha. Like another Martha long ago, the proof for her is in the actions. As a result of a perceived lack of action on the part of Christians, Marty rejects God. I pray she will recognize there are Christians in our town who really do care and who reach out to others in love. And like that other Mary from long ago, my new high school friend desperately wants to draw closer to God and sit at his feet. I’m hopeful she is going to take the God-challenge.

I never did get to my computer work that afternoon. Instead, we had church there in a coffee shop.