…but few things are needed—or indeed only one.
Luke 10:42a (NIV)
Most mornings as I sit in the quiet and meditate on the chapter there is one thing that jumps off the page. Other mornings, like this morning, there is a flow and a thread that runs through the episodes.
Today’s chapter contains four episodes. Each episode has its own lesson, but together they have a cohesive thought to send me into another work week.
First, Jesus expands the mission. Not just the Twelve now—others. Seventy-two unnamed, ordinary people.
He sends them out with almost reckless simplicity:
- No purse
- No bag
- No sandals
In other words: No safety net but Me.
And what happens?
They come back breathless—“Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name!”
Jesus smiles, but gently redirects their joy:
“Do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but that your names are written in heaven.”
Jesus is saying, “Your identity isn’t in your power… it’s in your belonging.”
I love measurable wins—success, influence, outcomes.
Jesus whispers, “Tom, that’s not your truest scoreboard.”
My worth today is not in what I accomplish but in the quiet, unshakable reality that I am known and named.
In the second episode, Jesus grieves the towns that were centers of His ministry. They saw and heard everything… and they shrugged.
Jesus compares them to Tyre and Sidon—ancient enemies of Israel. It’s a shocking reversal: The outsiders would have responded… but you didn’t.
Familiarity can numb the soul.
I don’t drift from God because I lack information.
I drift because what was once electric becomes… ordinary.
The danger isn’t rebellion. It’s indifference.
I need to pay attention to what I’ve grown used to—grace, truth, the quiet nudges. I need to let them surprise me again.
Speaking of familiar, the third episode is the well-worn parable of the Good Samaritan.
A lawyer wants Jesus to define the limits of his responsibility. Jesus blows up the boundary lines.
A man is beaten on the road and left half-dead.
A preacher passes by…
An upstanding church member…
Then stops…one of those people… a Samaritan.
Samaritans and Jews had centuries of hostility. This isn’t just unlikely—it’s offensive. Jesus casts the enemy as the hero.
And notice the verbs:
- He saw him
- He felt compassion
- He went to him
- He bandaged
- He carried
- He paid
Love is not an attitude.
It’s an action, a movement toward.
My neighbor today isn’t theoretical.
It’s the inconvenient interruption right in front of me.
The road to Jericho winds its way through my day.
In the final episode, Jesus is having dinner at Mary and Martha’s house.
Martha is busy.
Mary is present.
Martha’s frustration spills out:
“Lord, don’t you care?”
Ugh! How many times have I whispered that question?
Jesus responds with tenderness, not rebuke:
“Martha, Martha… you’re worried and upset about many things, but only a few are needed – or indeed only one.”
“Many things” vs. “one thing.” The Greek carries the sense of fragmentation vs. wholeness.
Martha is pulled apart.
Mary is centered.
I can be very productive… and very divided inside.
The invitation isn’t to do less for Jesus.
It’s to be with Him first.
Before the emails.
Before the noise.
Before the long task list of responsibilities…
Sit down at the table.
Listen.
Let my soul breathe, and center.
And the through-line of these four episodes is an important question for my day and my week: Where is my center?
- Is it in what I do? (the seventy-two)
- In what I’ve grown used to? (the cities)
- In where I draw my boundaries? (the lawyer)
- In how busy I keep myself? (Martha)
Or…
Is it in being with Jesus—and letting everything else flow from there?

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.








