Martha, The story behind the story

One day, Lazarus fell ill.

Martha could see how quickly her brother was deteriorating, and it broke her heart. Together, they had been through a lot in life, and many times they had almost given up, yet they held on to a hope that never died, even when it came close. The hardest time came when Martha got herself into trouble and was deceived into letting bad things into her life; before she knew it, she was enslaved to darkness and had almost lost it all.

But along came this man; his name was Jesus. He came from the town of Nazareth, and for the first time in her life, a man had sought her out not for what he could get from her, but for what he could give her. For a moment she was captivated, knowing she wanted what he had. His words, spoken over her with such authority and kindness, made her let go of all the darkness and set her free, leaving her clean and whole. She would never look back, no longer wanting her old life, but realised that she needed to invest everything in this one man, follow his example, and listen to his words.

Knowing he had all the answers, she was certain he would know what to do for Lazarus. She had seen others healed with just one of his words, and she didn't understand how. Yet trusting in his inherent goodness, she believed he could do the same for her brother, so she sent for him. A friend of a friend was going to a nearby town, and she asked her to send Jesus a message, writing these words in a note: Lord, he whom you love is sick. As she wrote, tears fell her face and dropped onto the note.

She looked at her brother, and her heart broke to see him in such pain and agony.

Surely he would come to the dear friend he loves so much?

They had spent so much time together, and it was a joy to see Lazarus so full of life and contentment. The change in him was truly amazing, and he had suddenly become the brother she remembered from when she was young, before life's difficulties had got in the way and affected them so badly. Surely he would come, and she waited at first patiently; then, as the days passed and Lazarus grew worse, she became impatient, crying out to herself, "Where are you? Where? Why haven't you come?" Resentment entered her heart.

Maybe he didn't want to come to her town because it was so close to Jerusalem, and those who ruled hated him, especially the Pharisees who wanted to kill him. But surely he would come, even if it was to say goodbye; deep down, she knew he could heal with him and save him from death, and yet he didn't come.

That dreaded day, her heart was broken twice: once by seeing her beloved brother, an honourable, hardworking man who had faithfully looked after his two sisters through their challenging lives, deteriorate. And secondly, as they had, she sat beside his bed, watching him take his last breath and die. The pain of that loss was so great it broke her, and the fact that Jesus hadn't come also destroyed her hope, her very self, and shattered all her dreams.

How could life get any harder?

How could it be so painful and so empty?

And what now?

She had to prepare his body and find somewhere to lay him, and she really didn't have the strength to do it, but she did. She washed his body - that body that was once active, strong and faithful, but now dead and cold. She anointed him with oil, wrapped him tenderly and lovingly in clean, pure linen, kissed his forehead, covered his head, and said goodbye.

How could she go on?

The grief and the loss were so great, and the resentment that Jesus hadn't come was burning within her, and anger was rising, and she felt bad about it. And the moment the stone was rolled across the entrance to that burial chamber, she wailed at the top of her voice, a scream of absolute, broken despair at her loss; broken and distraught, she fell to the ground, looked up to heaven, and shouted: “Why did you let this happen? Why didn't you answer my prayer?”

All the well-meaning friends and relatives didn't understand. Although they were also grieving the loss of a good man, they didn't understand why it had affected her so much or why she felt betrayed by Jesus. “Why?” she cried to herself. But that didn't help; in fact, it made her feel worse, and the rage boiled over.

And at that moment, someone said to everyone, “Jesus is here.” Her immediate response was to say to herself, “What, now he comes when it's too late,” which made her resent the one she loved. It made her even angrier that her brother had died when Jesus could have helped them all. But now look at where they find themselves, without a breadwinner, protector and provider, without the dearest of brothers, and facing destitution and homelessness.

“What's he going to do for me now? I'm going to give him a piece of my mind,” she thought to herself. She got up and ran out of the house, tears streaming down her face and anger, even rage, in her heart. She ran to where she knew Jesus would be. As she made her way, she wondered why he hadn't come to that house to join the mourners. Why was he being distant? Unable to make sense of his actions, she decided the only way was to confront him and berate him for letting her and her sister down, especially for not being concerned about Lazarus.

And she found him sitting under an oak tree in the shade, as if he were waiting for her to arrive. He saw her approaching; he jumped to his feet and ran towards her. The look on his face would stay with her all her life: love, concern, and grief, all rolled into one. That broke her rage and resentment toward him, and she spluttered in tears. In his embrace, she cried, “Why didn't you come? If you had been here, my brother would still be alive.” And she sank into his arms and sobbed and sobbed.

Through her distress, she felt his strong arms holding her fast and heard his comforting words whispered into her ear. Something was rising in her, beyond what she could understand, coming from deep within. Trust and hope rose that even now Jesus could help her, even if it seemed crazy to think so. She heard herself saying to him, actually believing what she was saying, “But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you”.

And then came his words, which she couldn't understand, yet she knew he was speaking the truth to her, and she felt the power those words carried as he said, "Your brother will rise again”. Martha thought he meant his resurrection on the last day; then he spoke strange words that she, or anyone who heard them, did not understand. “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, though he may die, he shall live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die”. Then Jesus asked her a piercing question that stopped her in her tracks, a question that cut to her heart and made her consider his words: “Do you believe this”? 

Every word cut deep; every word carried power and meaning; every word opened her up, exposing all her secrets, all her longings, and all her heartache, grief, and sorrow, which burst to the surface. With tears erupting from her eyes, she looked straight into his fiery, deep, loving, beautiful eyes that connected with her very soul. She replied, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is to come into the world”, and she threw herself at his feet, kissed them, and worshipped him as love burst from her heart and all the rage, resentment, and feelings of betrayal and disappointment vanished in that moment.

Crouching down, embracing her, with tears flowing from his eyes too, they looked at each other, knowing that they were loved in a way she had never experienced before, a deep connection that would never be broken, lasting for eternity.

She knew instinctively that she needed to get her sister Mary so she could share this experience and know that she too was loved in a way she had just felt, deeper than any man could ever love her, in a way that only God could, only holiness could, only true love could. So she got one of her closest, most trusted friends to the house and secretly told Mary to come. She came quickly, and seeing both of them embrace and cry together, it was as if the most important people in the world at that moment were now in the perfect place. Mary embraced them both, crying tears of sorrow and knowing that something deep had happened to her sister.

The scene was set, and the participants were ready to play their parts.

Then Jesus looked and saw all the grief, sorrow and pain, and he fell to his knees and wept. He wept for the humanity he had spoken into being; he wept for the dead who had died in the thousands of years since the perfection of the Garden; he wept for those who had grieved the loss of loved ones, for those who are grieving and will grieve; he wept for all the loss that creation and humanity had endured throughout the centuries; he wept because death could enter God’s perfect creation and had the upper hand. 

Asking in a loud, authoritative, determined, faith-filled voice, “Where have you laid him?” And he wept again, grieved deeply in his spirit, looking upon the injustice of it all and the loss suffered by those who had loved Lazarus. And with each step he took as they led him to Lazarus's tomb, he groaned in his spirit; it was a moment when the whole of the Godhead wept for humanity; he groaned within himself, as did the Holy Spirit and as did his Father in heaven.

This moment was about to culminate in one of the greatest miracles creation had ever seen. He directed that the stone covering the entrance to the tomb be removed, but Martha couldn't understand what he was doing; in fact, at that moment she doubted he was even in his right mind. It never occurred to her that the laws of nature were about to be challenged. It never entered her head that Jesus was about to challenge the one thing all humanity was subject to, death, which could not be changed.

And yet she heard him remind her that if she believed, she would see the glory of God. The way he said it, with such conviction and authority, made her instantly believe that something incredible would be witnessed in that place.

And then some strong men nearby moved the stone away from the entrance, and immediately the stench of decay was evident. Many covered their faces with their hands to keep it out. Martha, however, just stood with her mouth open in awe, excitement rising in her soul. As Jesus spoke, her whole body shook as the power of God was released from his mouth as he spoke: “Father, I thank you that you have heard me, and I know you always hear me, but because the people who are standing here, I say this, that they may believe that you sent me.” Then, with a loud voice, as if calling into the darkness, into eternity, into heaven and hell, he declared, "Lazarus, come forth."

That command echoed through all eternity and reached every being, every created thing, every principality, power, and dominion, and the rulers of darkness heard his voice and shook in terror. And Martha, when she heard him cry, shook violently to the deepest parts of her very being, into her past, present, and future, into her memories, into her suffering, grief, and pain, into her present and into her future. Those immortal words, like those God uttered at the beginning of time. “Come forth”.

And Lazarus came forth from the tomb. Martha’s first reaction was to laugh, to laugh at the spectacle, to laugh at the open, gaping mouths of all the witnesses, to laugh at Lazarus stumbling because of the grave clothes on his face and around his body, to laugh incredulously that there was no death in Lazarus, but that he was alive.

Then she looked at Jesus and heard him declare, “Loose him and let him go”, which not only spoke to him being covered with grave clothes but also to his being released from the grip, stench, and power of death. And the look on his face was priceless: one of absolute joy, one of praise and gratitude that God had answered him, and that he had brought a great victory and shared it with those he loved so much.

Then the scripture came to her mind as she danced with joy, holding her beloved brother Lazarus in her arms and embracing him with Mary and Jesus. It was from the old scriptures, from Psalms: You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, to the end that my glory may sing praises to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever. (Psalm 30: 11-12)

And oh, what a party they had that night, dancing and singing into the early hours, celebrating that Lazarus' death had been defeated and that many who witnessed what Jesus had done came to believe in him.

It seemed only a few days before Martha was grieving once again, but not for Lazarus, her brother, but for Jesus, her beloved friend and Lord, but that’s another story…