Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

From where they were standing, this whole situation could have been avoided. Every single minute of it. From the first signs of malaise to the final doctor visit, not one moment of suffering was necessary. The scenario didn’t need to end in death. There should be no reason for them to be here, weeping out their grief and wondering about their future. They had prayed. They had believed. They had kept the faith. They thought Jesus would come as soon as He received their message. Except He hadn’t. Hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t sent a handful of disciples. Hadn’t spoken words of healing from a distance. Jesus hadn’t done anything. And now they were here. Gathered with local friends to mourn the loss of Lazarus.  

Devastated, Mary and Martha went through the motions of laying their beloved brother to rest. Prepared the herbs. Wrapped the body. Went through the motions of a funeral. Watched as their brother was carried out of sight and laid in the dark interior of a cold tomb. Their tattered faith hovered at that entrance, barely restrained, deeply tempted to join the list of losses and be buried with Lazarus. Twin sighs escaped their lips between the quiet sobs. Matching thoughts filled their minds. If Jesus had only been there. If He had come when they sent the message. If He would have rushed, maybe He would have made it in time. Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe their brother would still be alive. Maybe their faith would be too. 

Battered faith was all they had left now. Jesus’ absence had left them reeling. The fact He hadn’t shown up–at all–left them with more questions than answers. What did it mean that He hadn’t come, hadn’t even acted? What did it mean that He hadn’t even sent a messenger back? Had He abandoned them? Did He not care? Was their relationship one-sided? Was their faith misplaced? When things got tough and ugly and terrifying, would Jesus just go silent? Did He even know Lazarus was dead? If He did, why didn’t He come back to comfort them in their sorrow? Was He unconcerned with the depths of their pain? Or was there somewhere more exciting, someone more important, something more pressing than to be in the presence of grief and sadness? Was His lack of presence, His obvious withholding of power, an indicator that all the love and care He’d promoted and promised was just a figment of their imaginations? Was His absence proof they should never have believed in the first place? 

The very thought was inconceivable. Mary and Martha had long been avid followers of Jesus. He had visited their home. Martha had fed Him. Mary had learned at His feet. He was loved and welcome in their home. They believed he loved them back. All three of them. Mary. Martha. Lazarus. They believed the things He taught. They believed he knew the number of hairs on each of their heads. They believed He kept a tally of the stars in the sky and had somehow come up with a name for each one. They believed He knew every time a little bird, worthless to humanity, flew into a rockface, fed a predator, or failed to survive the elements. They believed Jesus knew and cared about all these things. And, when He said they were worth more to Him than the billions of tiny birds, they hadn’t questioned it. They simpy believed. Yet now, surrounded by their shattering sorrow and the grieving voices of their friends, the girls hearts quietly questioned if it was really true. Did Jesus really care about them as much as He claimed, and if so, why hadn’t He shown up when they needed Him most? (Psalm 147:4; Matthew 10:29-31; Luke 10:38-42)

Days after they sent the message alerting Jesus that Lazarus was ill, He strolled into town. Four days late and a miracle short. Lazarus had died. He was buried. Four days ago. By now his body was starting to decompose. It wouldn’t be pretty. Not to see or to smell. The stone over the entrance would be only a reducing barrier. The spices they had buried with him would not be pungent enough to cover the smell of rotting flesh and seeping body fluids. The girls weren’t even there. They were quietly settled at home, sighing, sobbing, sorting through memories, shaping a future without their beloved brother. Faithful friends had gathered to keep watch over them, lend a hand, offer support. One of them must have been a lookout. Before Jesus got to the house, someone told them He was coming. And Martha went to meet Him. 

There was confrontation in her step as Martha marched out to meet Jesus. Her eyes were dry. Her shoulders were straight. Her jaw was set. The speech she had so carefully planned would finally be delivered. Martha had things to say. Real things. Important things. Things that demanded answers. She wouldn’t be asking questions. She would simply be stating the obvious. Jesus was late. Too late. If He had been here earlier, if He hadn’t dilly-dallied, her brother Lazarus would still be alive. (John 11:1-21)

Mary followed up Martha’s thoughts ones of her own, spoken in the exact same verbiage. If Jesus had been there then, Lazarus would be there now. They knew it. They believed it. Completely. They had seen too many miracles to believe otherwise. They simply couldn’t understand why, after choosing to place their faith in the God who promised to care more deeply for them than for the countless sparrows, He had chosen not to answer their prayers, to come when they called, or to rescue them from the grief and pain currently saturating their hearts. (John 11:32)

It wasn’t because they hadn’t asked. They had. As soon as Lazarus took to his bed with whatever illness gripped him, they had dispatched a messenger to Jesus. It wasn’t because they didn’t believe. They did. They believed every word that came from Jesus’ lips. They knew He was the Messiah. They believed He was the Son of God. They believed He was the resurrection and the life. They knew He could do anything. If He chose. They had seen His work and heard the accounts over and over again. What they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t comprehend, what their aching hearts were unable to fathom was why He chose not to do it for them. (John 11:22-27)

We have all stood in that same space, wondering why the miracles and blessings are raining down on others, but skipping us entirely. Maybe you are there right now. Desperately needing a miracle. Fiercely holding your faith that God will perform one. Begging Him with every breath to act. Yet watching day after day pass with no answer to your prayers. Others are getting answers. Even people who don’t believe in Jesus are sailing through life with no turbulence. Those who are willing to lie and cheat and play politics are climbing the ladder of success. But you are stuck on the bottom rung, living by faith, doing the right thing, praying until there are no words left in your soul and no tears left in your body. But nothing is happening. The miracles seem to have dried up. God is silent. The only voice you hear is the ugly one in your head saying to go ahead and pull the hairs from your scalp in frustration, God’s stopped recording the number anyway. He doesn’t care about you. He’s let you down. Decided you aren’t worth His time. God is over your relationship. 

Don’t you buy that! Not one of those things is true. God is still adjusting your hair tally every time your scalp determines one strand has outlived its usefulness. Why? Because He loves you. He cares about you. Every part of you. And nothing can separate you from Him. No one can take you out of a relationship with Jesus Christ. No one can pluck you out of His hand. No one can remove you from the meticulous care of God the Father. It isn’t possible. It’s just that His care often looks different than we imagine it should. Just like Mary and Martha. 

You see, Mary and Martha believed God’s loving care and constant faithfulness looked like privately saving Lazarus from death and them from grief. It didn’t. It looked like publicly restoring the one they lost. It looked like healing through complete revitalization–body and soul. It looked like Jesus making Himself known to the world then and every generation to come as a wonder-working God by calling dead Lazarus to walk alive from that tomb. When their situation looked the darkest, when their faith felt the weakest, when the temptation to question the truth of Jesus’ words was the greatest, Jesus Himself stepped in and did the miraculous. Why? Because whether they felt it or not, God was still counting every little hair on their heads. Even the ones on Lazarus. (John 11:38-44)

The same is true for you. In spite of your seemingly insurmountable circumstances, God is still doing what He has always done. Looking out for you. He is still keeping His promises. He is still working on your behalf. He is still on your side. He is still counting the hairs on your head. Fewer. Greater. It doesn’t matter. He knows each one. Counts them. Keeps track. Just like He does of the sparrows. Not one of them crashes into a window, becomes a cat’s dinner, or suffers from avian influenza without His knowledge. How much more does He keep track of you? Your worries. Your cares. Your needs. You are far more important to Him. Your life. Your future. Your hope. So don’t let anxiety and uncertainty overcome you. Don’t let the evil one make you doubt your place in God’s heart. He hasn’t forgotten you. He knows exactly what your life requires and is working out a plan to bring it to pass. He delights in every part of your existence. Right down to counting every little hair on your head. (Matthew 6:25-34; 10:29-31; Zephaniah 3:17; Psalm 18:19; Isaiah 49:14-16; Jeremiah 29:11)