Author Darlene J Conard

“Martha, Jesus has come.” Refael’s heavy steps reached her ears before he entered the door of her house. She propped the broom against the fireplace and followed him out. Staying busy kept her mind from wondering.

The sun’s light embroidered her stature as she walked towards Him. “Jesus, Lord, if you would have been here, my brother would not have died,” easily flowed from her lips. Her swollen bloodshot eyes revealed anguish. “But I know, that even now, whatsoever You will ask of God, God will give it to You.”

Jesus waited for Mary to trail behind her. The whole thing became an enigma. Mary, Martha, or anyone else could not perceive it. Her brother was dead. A reliable source delivered the message to Jesus that Lazarus fell terribly ill. “Why? Why did He wait until after her brother died? Why?

 Walls of isolation kept her fragileness safe.

“Your brother will rise again.” Jesus softly spoke with assurance. She wasn’t prepared for the glorious manifestation about to transpire. “I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection in the last day.” Jesus focused His eyes on her as He placed a hand on her arm. “I am the resurrection, and life. He that believes in Me, though he were dead will live. And whosoever lives and believes in Me, will not die. Do you believe this?”

“Yes, Lord, I believe You are the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world.” Did she believe it or was she simply speaking it, to be speaking it? She broke eye contact with Jesus as she turned to walk back to her house secretly to get Mary. None of this makes sense! He healed the lame, opened deaf ears, turned water into wine, delivered demoniacs and the list goes on! But why, oh why did this happened to her beloved brother Lazarus?” Martha could no longer try unraveling the mystery. It only worsened.

Martha opened the creaking door to find Mary at the table with her face buried in her folded arms sobbing. She stroked the back of her sister’s scarf covered head. “The Master has come, and He is asking for you.” Her hidden demeaner lifted. Without hesitation she ran out the opened door leaving Martha behind falling at Jesus feet.

Once again, she found herself at His feet, only this time overcome with grief. Heavy hot tears spilled from her eyes onto the opening of His sandals. Her wails froze the rest of the mourners in position.

… To be continued (Luke Chapter

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