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At Bethany: Martha's Distress

O God, why hast thou cast us off for ever?

---Psalm 74:1

 

My Brother, Lazarus, long ill, has died.

I think the Lord could have come to his aid:

such was the favor for which I had prayed.

I do not know why Jesus was delayed.

I do not doubt He has the power to heal;

but Lazarus is dead.  How should I feel?

We sent a message:  did he not receive

it?  My hopes are crushed.  How can I believe

now?, or confront these random thoughts I think.

Buried four days, and already decayed,

my brother must smell worse than monkeys stink.

My eyes may have no tears left:  I have cried

so much in helplessness while Jesus stayed

away.  But look, there yonder, drawing near---

Jesus and His friends:  now they show up here?

 

Starward

 

[jlc]

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem arises from a deep disappointment causing a crisis during the Christmas holiday, when I had desperately prayed for a solution and no solution has come.  And yes, like the Psalmist and Martha, I complained and complained bitterly.  My soul knows that God is in control and God will resolve the issue; my flesh tries to reject this and wants to lash out at God and others.  My crisis is not as large or profound as Martha's was; but, within my own context, it is a terrible turn of events.

 

Martha received her miracle in Christ's timing.  I know, more surely than I know my own name, that I will receive mine . . . in Christ's timing.

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last updated 19 May 2019 - 10:18pm
©22 December 2016 - 1:19pm — S74rw4rd