A Hand of Hope…
She is heartbroken. Today is the fourth day since her beloved brother died and the air is heavy with heartache. By now the news has travelled far and wide, and the sound of weeping echoes throughout the house. Only the one friend she is looking for isn’t here, even though they called for him desperately as Lazarus lay dying. Unable to take it a moment longer, she rushes out of the gloom, running until she no longer hears that frightful wailing. Eventually she collapses under the wizened branches of a friendly old olive tree far from the house, outside of Bethany.
Childhood memories churn her grieving mind – running through fields of golden grain with Lazarus and Mary, lying on their backs counting glittering stars at night and laughing at shape-changing clouds by day, daring one another to climb the tallest trees, holding each other close when a beloved parent died. And she vividly recalls how the atmosphere in their home changed the very first time Jesus came to dinner. Somehow, even darkened corners became light, and his presence chased away the longing for what might have been. He is a dear family friend, but where is he when she needs him most?
She hears running. “The Master is coming!” shouts the panting boy.
Her heart skips a beat and now alert with hope, she jumps to her feet. Soon, there HE is, striding up the road, hands outstretched and glad recognition in his eyes. “Martha!”
“If only you had been here Master, he would be alive, but it’s hopeless now – Lazarus is dead!”
His voice, so tender. “I am the resurrection and the life. Everyone who believes in me will never ever die. Do you believe this, Martha?”
“Oh yes, Lord!”
I feel like Martha came to visit me this week 😊 I have heard many sermons over the years that lingered over Mary’s heart of worship and how she “chose the better part,” sitting at the feet of Jesus. But it struck me that when Lazarus died, it was Martha who was in the right place at the right time to meet with Jesus before anyone else even knew he was coming.
It is so easy to dismiss the Martha’s (male and female 😊) of this world as not quite spiritual enough. After all, they seem to always choose the urgent at the risk of the important. But they are the ones who make sure that food is on the table, our clothes sweet and clean. They mend the roof and mow the lawn. They take care of us – THEY are the ones we look for in times of chaos and pain.
In my experience, there so often lives in practical hearts a quiet yet steadfast, unmovable faith, a faith that KNOWS, a faith that says: “I know the one I trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until the day of his return.”
A faith we tend to call on when our own faith flutters in the winds of adversary…
