Enter Martha.
She muttered to herself, as she mercilessly chopped at the figs, the current target of her frustration. Was all that noisy "comforting" really necessary? She couldn't see the joy in their coming, since it meant that she had to slave away in this hot kitchen.
Someone poked their head in and said excitedly, "Did you hear? Jesus has been seen on the road!"
She dropped her hands and leaned on the table where she had been chopping figs, her shoulders slumped a little as a big sigh escaped from her barely open lips. She was relieved he had finally come, definitely relieved, but at the same time, she couldn't help feeling just a little bit bitter that he hadn't come sooner. Her lips tightened. If he had just come when she sent for him, Lazarus would still be alive, and she wouldn't have to worry about the future for her and her sister. Suddenly she straightened her back. "What are you doing standing here?", she scolded herself, "you know you'd much rather have him here, than that room full of mourners from Jerusalem." She hesitated for a moment, thinking of the disaster that could occur if she left all the food still cooking. "Let it burn," she impulsively decided, and dashed out the door to meet him.
Eyes glued to Jesus as she ran, she stopped just short of bumping into him, and blurted, "if you had been here, Lord, my brother would not have died." Did she detect just a little tone of accusation in her voice? She hadn't meant for it to sound that way. "I know God gives you anything you ask for", she said, hoping that would sweeten the sour note of her words.
"Your brother will rise again", Jesus said reassuringly.
"Yes I know that, and it is indeed a great comfort, knowing he will rise again on the last day", she replied.
But was it really? She had heard this consolation so many times, believed it even, but did it really comfort her heart right now? Did knowing about the resurrection change how she was feeling about losing her brother?
Jesus said, "I am the resurrection and the life, believe in Me and you'll live, believe in Me and you'll never die. Do you believe Martha?"
"Yes Lord, I believe You are the Christ, the Son of God, the One we've been waiting for. I believe."
So why didn't she feel better. Was that all He had to offer her? She turned away, "it's enough, for now", she thought.
Jesus watched her back, as she walked away, his head shaking slightly. She hadn't understood what He was offering.
Do you sometimes fear that all you will find, when you come to God in the midst of your pain, is doctrine and platitudes? Are you ever afraid that Christianity will disappoint you, that the Bible will leave you feeling empty? Do you wonder if you are missing something?
For some, doctrinal truth is exactly what they need to hear, the perfect anchor for not being blown about in their storm. But for others, knowing the truth doesn't seem to calm the seas. They have no trouble believing, it's just that their feelings refuse to follow. They may conclude that God is not in touch with how they feel, wonder if He is even real.
I know that feelings can never take the place of my faith, that what I believe can never be born out of how I feel. It's a good thing too, since my feelings are about as predictable as the wind, and just as changeable. Faith based on how I feel is a scary thought, indeed. That would be like building a house on a swinging bridge or over a sinkhole. I used to actually trust my feelings, until I learned that no truth could be found in them.
But in driving a wedge between the two, what have I done with my feelings? Have I pushed them into a room where I believe God doesn't want to enter? Have I settled for thinking that I can only relate to Him through doctrine and concluded that God is not interested in how I feel, that my feelings don't matter to Him? Am I resigned to forever carrying the burden of my feelings on my own?
"Oh, ... how much you miss!" said Anne to Marilla.
Does doctrine make a difference? Absolutely!
Do my feelings matter to God? Just as much!
Enter Mary.
Four days had passed since Lazarus had died, and still, she couldn't believe it. She missed him terribly, missed his voice, missed his strength. Looking around the room, she took in and stored away in her mind each of the friends and family that had come the distance to be here and grieve with her. Their tear streaked faces, their wailing voices made her feel better somehow, as if they were absorbing some of her own grief. It was good to not be alone, if only..., "no," she insisted, "Jesus would have come, if he could have." He loved Lazarus too. He might still come. She hoped he would. His presence would bring such comfort.
"Mary", someone gently tapped her shoulder, "your sister is asking for you."
My sister, Martha, dear Martha. "I wish sometimes that she could understand me, cry with me," she thought, "but I'm glad, at least, that I don't have to go through this alone."
"The Teacher is here, he wants to see you," Martha whispered in her ear.
Joy swelled up within her, so intensely, that she nearly fell over as she jumped up. It was such a relief to know he had arrived. Tears blurred her vision as she ran. She longed to bring her pain and sadness to him, knew that he would know what was in her heart. He was like that, always seeing right through her, always knowing just the right thing to say.
She saw him and immediately clung to his feet. Smiling, she thought of all the hours she had spent at those feet, and of the costly perfume she was keeping just for them. But then she remembered Lazarus, and she felt the knife in her chest again.
"Lord, if you had been here," she sobbed, "my brother would not have died." At first, her tears choked her throat, but then, they broke through with loud gut-wrenching cries. "When would this pain stop, when would she run out of tears", she wondered.
Mary's grief moved Jesus deeply. "Where have you put him?", he managed to ask, before weeping silent tears, serene tears in comparison to the wailing laments of those around him.
Why did Jesus respond so differently to these two sisters? Why did one get truth and the other get tears? Did He know exactly what they each needed in their own different way?
I have tended to relegate the teaching in Hebrews about my Great High Priest into a purely theological issue. I hear the words "high priest" and immediately think of an office no longer in use, in a system of animal sacrifice no longer practiced, exciting for those who love to debate theology, or argue doctrine, but empty of anything that might encourage my soul. I know what Christ has done for me in the past; I'm certain of what He will do for me in the future.
How certain am I, that what He is doing for me right now, is exactly what I need?
Mary got sympathy, Martha is about to get one more mouth to feed.
Oh, this is going to be exciting!
John 11
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