As I wash the dishes on a Sunday in mid-April, I watch the snowflakes spin and swirl outside the window above the sink. Snowflakes in April? Almost 30 days since the "official" start of spring, and we're staring down another winter storm, less than a handful of mild days attesting to the season. My social media feed and face-to-face conversations have been full of disgust with the weather.
And yet, as I gaze at the perfect white falling flakes, I imagine a different feeling. If this were Christmas Eve, for instance, everyone would be staring out decorated and lighted windows with hope and comfort watching the snow fall, humming "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas." This is the same stuff that is prayed for in holiday movies and considered a "miracle" when it falls in such unlikely places as L.A. or Georgia. But not today, in Illinois, in April, weeks after having celebrated Easter.
The scene is the same. The snow falling, beautiful, intricate one-of-kind, awe-inspiring flakes of water. It's our attitude that has changed. But still the beauty accumulates, with no regard to its bitter, unwelcome reception. Still it dances and alights, unaffected by the lack of appreciation. And I find myself wishing I could be as persistent and unconcerned as an April snow.
This morning I taught 3-5 year olds about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. As I prepared the lesson, my thoughts focused on Martha as they usually do. She's been called the female equivalent of Peter and is often used as the "don't be like" example in stories. In John 11:27, her bold declaration of belief in Jesus' true identity as the Messiah reveals her deep faith and courage.
She said to him, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.”
But just a few minutes later, she also reveals a deeply entrenched habit of people-pleasing. Jesus asks that the tomb be open, and Martha hesitates, thinking how a 4 day old corpse will smell. I can practically hear the question resounding in her head "What will people think?" Many Scripture readers and teachers jump on this as an indication that maybe her faith isn't as strong as it seemed just moments ago while in private conversation with Jesus. Maybe she's all talk, no action. But I see me. Proclaiming God's power, praising His Son, desiring to follow Him with singular focus. That is true. That is real. And then I get up and enter the crowded day, full of past and present voices and distractions. And even without realizing it, I begin to behave habitually, according to the expectations of others, whether perceived or real. I react on auto-pilot, just as I think Martha did here. She's not suddenly renouncing her belief that Jesus has the power to resurrect her brother. She's just reacting in the flesh of the moment--"ugh, we don't open tombs, Jesus. Messy, stinky things tombs, full of decay, better to leave that closed."
Oh, Martha, Oh, April, Jesus reminds,
“Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”
In Philippians 3, Paul tells us that we can live different lives, giving up auto-pilot and choosing Christ!
If I want to see the glory of God, I have to open up the tomb, give Him access to the stinky mess, no matter what other people will think or say. Just like Martha agreeing to open Lazarus' tomb after 4 long days. Just like snowflakes falling onto my April crocus blooms whether they are welcome or not.
Oh God, I believe! Help my unbelief! Help me to walk in Your truth without fear of other people's opinions, trusting that Your Way is Glorious.
