Jesus Asks

 You said You would come and share all my sorrows.

You said You’d be there for all my tomorrows.

I came so close to sending You away,

But just like you promised,

You came here to stay.

I just had to pray.*

  “Why did He not come?” Martha mumbles under her breath as she putters away in the kitchen. “He could have healed him, I know He could have, but He didn’t come. Why?”

One of the ladies who had come to help, nudged Martha with her elbow and said, “Now we’ll take care of this, Dear, you just go in there with your sister.” The well-meaning friend pointed to the other room where Mary and more friends sat on pillows on the floor.

“What am I supposed to do, just sit and cry my eyes out and let my mind think all kinds of things?” Martha snapped, her eyes flashing. “There’s work that needs to be done here, I need to be seeing to the guests.”

“Well, yes,” the friend said, “now is the time for you and Mary to grieve. There will soon be time for working. You go sit now,” the older lady nudged, pushed, and took the knife from Martha’s hand, “Go, go!”

Martha, seeing nothing else to do, sank down on one of the large cushions on the front room floor. She glanced at her sister who was curled on her side, finally sleeping.

She would not disturb her, since sensitive-emotional Mary had been weeping almost non- stop since their brother had breathed his last.

Four days Lazarus had been dead, and nearly twice that since they had sent the runner to their friend. There had been no word, no miracle, no Jesus. She knew, from experience, Jesus could have said the words from where ever He was and healed Lazarus. She had seen it happen. Or had heard of it. She was sure He could have done this. But nothing had happened while Lazarus lay sick, becoming weaker and weaker until he could not draw another breath into his lungs. Now he was gone, now it was too late.

Lazarus, their older brother, was their last family member, her and Mary’s last provider. Now what would they do? How would they make a living?

Oh, there were some funds they could live on for awhile. They could have sold the precious oil they were saving for burials and lived on that for several years if only Mary, her impetuous-impractical sister hadn’t poured it all out on the head of Jesus.

Oh my, what a sight that was! Quite scandalous. Luckily, there were only a few of His followers in the house. They would never have lived that down! And Jesus hadn’t rebuked her like Martha expected Him too. No, instead Jesus encouraged her. Oh my, what was she going to do with her sister? What were they going to do period?

A young boy walks quickly in the door and going straight to Martha, whispers in her ear. “He comes.”

Martha nonchalantly gets to her feet and stretches, then slips quietly from the house. Once out of sight of the women, she picks up her robe and rushes down the road. Just outside the village she sees Jesus coming with His ever-present group of men surrounding Him. Martha slows her walk, drops her robe, straightens her back and with head in the air, marches right up to Him.

“If You had been here, Lord,” she snaps, and I can imagine her tone being a bit strident, condemning, and angry even, since that is exactly the way I would have been.

“If you would have been here, Lord,” Martha spat with clipped sharp words, “IF You had only been here, my brother would not have died!” Possibly she even stomps her foot.

But then she remembers the last time she had railed at Jesus about her sister sitting, while Martha worked, and how He had admonished her. So she backed up a bit, softened her words, lowered her eyes and quietly said,

“But even now, though my brother is gone, I know that whatever you ask your Father, He will give You.”

Did she really believe Jesus could bring Lazarus back? No I don’t think so, I mean who would? I think she meant Jesus could help them, those who were left, maybe even help provide for her and Mary. Maybe practical-down-to-earth-realistic Martha thought Jesus could ask His heavenly Father to give them husbands. I don’t believe she thought in her wildest dreams that Jesus could or would bring Lazarus back from the grave.

Jesus answered her, saying, “Your brother will rise again.”

“Oh yes, I know he will be raised up again in the last days,” Martha said indignantly, “I know he is in Heaven. I know he’s better off, really, but we who are left, what about us?”

Oh Martha is so like me forgetting my Savior’s promises to sustain me, to hold me, to supply all my needs. Doubting that He would come and that He will be in my tomorrows.

Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me shall live even though he dies in the body. And whoever believes in Me and lives in Me, shall never die, but have eternal life.” (from John 11:25-26)

Then He asks the question He asks each one of us at some point in our lives.

“Do you believe?”

“Yes, Lord, she tells Him, “I do believe You are the Christ, the Son of God who has come into the world.”

She got it! For even though Martha was the strong one, stalwart and practical, she believed in her unemotional heart that Jesus was the long-anticipated Messiah, God with us, the Son sent from the Father above.

She did not quite understand what it was He was there to do, but she had seen the miracles and she knew His heart. Lazarus was Jesus’ friend, possibly His confident. Jesus stayed in their home, was able to relax there, felt safe and comfortable. I can imagine Jesus talking late into the night with Lazarus, just the two of them. Possibly Jesus sent the disciples away, and maybe He bared His heart to Lazarus.

“I know the time is coming near, Lazarus,” He might have whispered, ” this is the year for the Son of man to be the sacrificial Lamb for all mankind. I know and the human side of me cringes. I am afraid, my friend, for I know the pain and the horror that I will endure.”

Martha would have heard this, maybe quietly cleaning in the kitchen, maybe sitting silently in the shadows. Martha along with Mary would have listened to His every word.

“Lazarus,” Jesus might have said, “pray for Me, that I may have the strength to do this great thing that I know I must do. I have to do it for you and for all who will believe. Please My friend, pray.”

Perhaps Lazarus reached over and squeezed his young friend’s hand, “I will pray for You, but Son, never fear, Your Father will not leave You, even if it feels He has done so. He will be there and He will strengthen You. Even now He is preparing you.”

So Martha had seen His heart, she knew He was God, who had sacrificed a great thing to walk on this earth as a mere man. She understood His compassion. She felt His love go deep in her soul. She didn’t know His plan. She didn’t really understand His purpose. She had no idea why all this was happening.

Yet, after Jesus let her down by tarrying, before seeing the great miracle, while He comforted her with words only, as her brother lay dead in the tomb, when her future loomed dark and hopeless, she believed. And it was enough.

How about you, friend?

Do you believe?

And Jesus said Come to the waters, stand by my side.

I know you are thirsty, you won’t be denied.

I felt every tear drop when in darkness you cried,

And I strove to remind you that for those tears I died.

*For Those Tears I Died, by Marsha Stevens

And Jesus said come to the waters

Stand by My side