Learning to Sit Still With God

Mary sat at the feet of Jesus. Martha served with love.
Which one are you today?

I’ve been moving fast lately. Work. Church. Volunteer events. Projects for my family. It’s all good work. It’s all for someone else. Most days, it feels like I’m doing what I was built for. Service. I feel closest to God when I’m helping someone or filling a need.

But lately, I’ve been noticing something. A quiet whisper I keep ignoring. It says, “Slow down.” Not because the work isn’t good, but because I haven’t let myself receive. I haven’t let myself just be with Jesus.

A few months ago, I was a sacristan at a special evening Mass. I was so busy making sure everything ran smoothly, candles lit, vessels set, everyone where they needed to be, that I forgot to get in line for Communion. The Body of Christ was right there, being given out to others. And I missed it.

I stood there at the end, holding back tears, realizing I had served everyone but hadn’t received the One I needed most.

That moment stuck with me. I was Martha, working hard to serve Jesus, but I had missed the moment to sit at His feet.

This week’s Gospel reading brought that memory right back. Martha was frustrated and overwhelmed, trying to do all the right things. Mary was still and quiet, listening to Jesus. And Jesus gently told Martha that Mary had chosen the better part.

I know what it feels like to be Martha. To be needed. To be counted on. To feel like if you stop, things might fall apart.

But I’ve also had those Mary moments. I find them in Adoration. In the stillness of a chapel, alone with the Lord. No checklist. No responsibilities. Just silence and presence. Those are the moments when I feel most seen, most loved, most real.

During a retreat a couple years ago, one of those quiet moments hit me especially hard. I was kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament, and I felt the Lord speaking clearly to my heart. “Be more present. Especially at home.”

It wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t shameful. It was gentle and clear. A reminder that my wife and son don’t need a hero. They need me. They need my heart, not just my help. They need my presence, not just my protection.

I made a promise in that moment. A promise I still believe in.

But life got busy again. And the urge to serve, to jump in, fill a gap, came back fast. It always feels noble. It always feels like the right thing to do. But sometimes I wonder if I say yes to everything because it’s easier to serve than it is to stop.

Service is a beautiful calling. But even service needs balance. Jesus didn’t tell Martha to stop serving because service was wrong. He simply reminded her that sometimes, what we need most is not to do, but to be.

To be present. To be still. To be loved.

When I don’t make space to receive grace, I start to dry out. I keep pouring myself into others without letting the Lord pour into me. That’s when the burnout comes. That’s when the resentment creeps in. That’s when even good work starts to feel heavy.

Jesus spoke once about new wine needing new wineskins. Old skins would burst under the pressure. But new ones could stretch and hold the gift being poured in. I think that’s what happens when we slow down and let Him love us. Our hearts become new wineskins. Open. Willing. Ready to stretch and receive.

And when we let Him fill us, really fill us, that love doesn’t just sit quietly inside. It grows. It expands. It pushes out into everything we do. Until it overflows in our homes, our parishes, and our service. But we can’t pour out what we haven’t received. That’s why Mary’s posture matters. She made room. She became the wineskin.

It’s kind of like a phone. No matter how many people rely on it, no matter how useful it is, the battery still drains. And when it’s dead, it’s dead. You have to plug it in. That’s what being present with Jesus does. It recharges you. It fills you back up. Without it, even the holiest work will lose its strength. We start running on fumes, and that doesn’t serve anyone.

I’ve been at plenty of Masses where I was physically present, but spiritually distracted. My hands were there. My body was there. But my heart wasn’t. I was thinking about the next thing I had to do, or the last thing I forgot. But then there are those rare times, maybe during Adoration or just after Communion, when everything else fades and I realize I’m not just in church. I’m with Jesus. That’s the presence Mary chose.

Jesus is always inviting us to pause. To sit. To listen. Not forever. Just long enough to be filled again. Just long enough to remember that we’re not just workers in the vineyard. We’re sons and daughters at the table.

Martha didn’t do anything wrong. Her work mattered. Her meal probably fed everyone. But the Lord saw her heart. He saw her worry. He saw how she was pulled in too many directions. That’s what He gently corrected, not her service, but her scattered spirit.

And maybe that’s the message for us. When we start feeling pulled, overwhelmed, invisible in our serving, maybe Jesus is inviting us to come closer, to sit still, and to let Him feed us for a change.

Maybe you’ve been feeling that too. Maybe your calendar is full of church events, family duties, or community service. Maybe you’re doing all the right things and still feel like something’s missing.

That missing piece might just be presence.

The kind of presence Mary chose. The kind that doesn’t check the clock. The kind that looks at Jesus and says, “You have my full attention. Just for now. Just for this moment.”

So here’s the invitation I’m sitting with this week, and maybe it’s one you need too: Let yourself rest at His feet. Even if it’s only for five minutes.

Let yourself be seen. Be held. Be filled.

Because you are more than what you do. You are more than what you produce. You are His. And He misses you when you’re too busy.

Start small. A quiet moment before everyone wakes up. A visit to the chapel after work. A whispered prayer in the car before heading home.

And if you’re like me, pulled in every direction by good and holy things, just remember this: Mary didn’t love Jesus any more than Martha did.

She just paused long enough to receive what He was offering.

Maybe it’s your turn too.