Mary of Bethany is a well-loved woman of the Bible. Like many of our pillars of faith, we give her great accolades for the way she loves and follows Jesus. She shocked even the disciples by anointing his feet with expensive oils and wiping them with her hair. But, like so many our favorite Bible characters, we miss one of the best parts of her story. In a culture obsessed with success, we often miss the times (and lessons we can learn) when the extraordinary are just… ordinary.
Most people know that Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, but the rest of the story seems to be more of an opening act to the main event. People sort of pay attention, they may hear a thing or two they like, but that’s not why they’re there. It’s like the old covenant in Hebrews; it is “but a shadow of the good things to come.” (Hebrews 10:1)
But God created everything, even shadows. And what are shadows but a place where the sun (Son) cannot reach because some other object is blocking its light?
For some context, Mary and Martha are sisters, their brother Lazarus is ill. And so they send an urgent message to their friend Jesus to come and heal him.
Now, we’ll start with one of the most confusing verses in the Bible: “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.” John 11:5-6 (emphasis added by yours truly)
What?! These verses clearly show how much Mary, Martha, and Lazarus meant to Jesus, it says he loved them! What throws me is verse 6. When he heard, he stayed two days longer. He just waited, for 48 hours, while a man whom he loved was dying… Sometimes I think my Bible has typos. Shouldn’t it say, “When he heard that Lazarus was ill he left immediately for Judea.”?
Alas, as this thought enters my mind I look up and see the fresh post-it I affixed to my desk late last night. “I will believe what the Bible says, not what I want it to say.”
And my sad confusion is certainly nothing compared to what Mary felt. Here she has spent a good deal of time listening to Jesus and the disciples talk about all the people who have been healed, all the lame made able, all the blind who can now see. But, when Jesus’ own friends, people whom he loves, need a miracle, He doesn’t come.
I can only imagine the disappointment Mary felt. This amazing woman of faith, waiting by Lazarus’ bedside, assuring him help was on the way, fully believing with all her heart that Jesus was going to walk in at any moment to save the day. And then he doesn’t…
This is where our heroine Mary falls out of character. She’s not the strong woman wiping Jesus’ feet with her hair. No, here she falls to the floor sobbing, and chides Jesus saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Mary’s grief was more than the loss of her beloved brother, she was disappointed with Jesus. Can you imagine the devastating blow of not only losing a family member, but also the loss of hope in your Savior?
We’ve all felt this same disappointment. We suffer a loss and not only grieve the loss itself, but we struggle with the thought that God could have prevented it, if only he weren’t too late. He could have healed, fixed, provided. But he didn’t. We prayed our hearts out, rallied friends together in prayer, but the seconds waiting turned to minutes, which turned to hours. And then days. Conditions worsened, and still… no sign of him.
When Jesus finally arrives, it’s been four days. The funeral has already happened, Lazarus is long-sicne dead. His lifeless body has already been sealed in a tomb.
Jesus’ actions don’t make sense. Then again, that’s what makes us take a closer look at him. Like Mary had to do.
Now, when I read about Mary falling at Jesus’ feet, sobbing, probably half yelling through the tears at Jesus, “If you had been here my brother wouldn’t have died,” I have to admit, I read on expecting Jesus to rebuke her. I expected him to say, “Get up woman. Do you not trust me?” or, “Look what I can do?” and then *poof* Lazarus wakes up. And then we can cue a sweet little monologue or parable about trusting the Son of God.
But Jesus does just about the opposite of what I expect. As my wondrous God so often does. He doesn’t try to get her to stop crying; he doesn’t scold her for falling apart or tell her she should have known better. He doesn’t criticize her for having hormones or being an emotional woman. Instead, He, the man who knew exactly how the story would end, who actually could have been disappointed by her tears—treats her with compassion and tender love.
What he does can all be summed up in two beautiful words. Probably the shortest, most poignant verse in the Bible, “Jesus wept.” John 11:35.
Jesus isn’t weeping for Lazarus; he knows he’ll raise him soon. He’s weeping for Mary. He’s weeping because she’s heart-broken and confused. He weeps for her and with her because he knows how difficult it is for her to understand him.
So many Christians think they fail miserably if they show sadness, pain, or weakness. As if Jesus would treat us any differently than he treats Mary here. We think that we can’t cry because we’re supposed to be a testimony to others. That “God won’t give us anything we can’t handle.” And so we play God and when we fall apart we place an extra layer of guilt upon are already heavy hearts. Jesus refuses to do this to Mary.
Mary didn’t hide her disappointment with Jesus. She didn’t try to appear brave when she wasn’t. She fell at his feet in vulnerable desperation, and it led to a moment that bonded her to Jesus in a way most of the onlooker’s couldn’t even imagine.
In the end, Jesus does raise Lazarus from the dead, and it’s an amazing miracle. But, I still think the greater miracle is what is done in the shadow, in Mary. I think the greater miracle is the lesson that no matter when Jesus comes, he’s never too late.
He may come and save a loved one at the last minute as he did when Abraham drew the sword to take Isaac’s life. He may come four days “late,” resurrecting something we’d given up on. Something we thought was long since dead.
But rest assured, He’s never too late.
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