Tuesday, July 29, 2025
Memorial of Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Sea billows
When peace like a river attendeth my way …
When Martha heard that Jesus was coming,
she went to meet him;
but Mary sat at home.
Martha said to Jesus,
“Lord, if you had been here,
my brother would not have died.
And when Jesus moved into the room with Mary and saw her face stained by four days of tears, he wept too. “Take away the stone,” Jesus commanded.
When sorrows like sea billows roll …
There were whispers then, and outright accusations: “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man Lazarus from dying?”
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, “It is well, it is well with my soul.”
What a puzzle. I know many folks who have experienced healing miracles, and many more who have not. Jesus knows them too. Jesus knows them all.
Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?
This story reminds me of success stories from the pulpit, which ignore the many people listening who have yet to “see the glory,” even though they believe. It’s not right for us to “figure that out” and leave the missing pieces to those crying out to “see the glory.” The best I can do is think to myself, “What is this glory anyway?” and when has this happened to me, and what if anything did I learn?
Lawrence Ferlinghetti wrote a wonderful poem in which he called out, “I am waiting for a rebirth of wonder.” Of course rebirth and wonder are great things, but the key word is “waiting.” This seems to be God’s trump suit in every “game” we play together. Jesus took his time getting to Bethany. The disciples wanted him to hurry, but he would not.
On his arrival Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days.
In another poem Pastor Steve describes an experience of waiting while Jesus is on his way, but not yet arrived. Mostly he notices things and describes them while he waits.
When dread for the world grows heavy,
or despair throws its rough sack over your head,
ponder something beautiful.
Let terrible events fade to the backdrop,
a dark peripheral blur.
Look for life, even the lowest.
The impetuous tuft of grass in the sidewalk,
and how it keeps coming back, reaching for light,
spreading its arms with innocent joy.
The bug in the corner of your prison cell,
how, by grace, it finds food.
If it is possible here, it is also elsewhere.
Even under the boots of tragedy, goodness persists,
in a billion places across the earth.
Keep your eye on the star, not the darkness.
In the room, mourners beat the laundry of their grief.
Outside the window a pair of cardinals feed each other. – Steve Garnaas-Holmes
What am I waiting for? What do I think will happen that I’m willing to wait even until I die? What matters even more than my heartbeat and my breath?
Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”
(Exodus 33, Psalm 103, John 8, John 11)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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