I laughed out loud during my Bible study this morning.
And I contemplated body odor.
Ah, yes. The Gospels never read as boring, do they?
In John chapter 11, we read about the death of Lazarus. Jesus wasn’t just a spiritual teacher to Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha. They were close friends.
So when Lazarus got sick, his sisters sent word to Jesus. But Jesus didn’t arrive until four days after Lazarus had died. Four. Days.
Now, Mary and Martha absolutely believed in Jesus. They knew He could perform miracles.
But when Jesus arrived and stood in front of the tomb and said, “Take away the stone,” Martha replied with this little gem:
“Lord, by this time he stinketh; for he hath been dead four days.” (John 11:39 KJV)
I mean … she wasn’t wrong. (And what a great word. Stinketh.)
Here’s what’s so human about Martha. She believed in Jesus, but she still couldn’t imagine that something good, something miraculous, could happen right there in the middle of the mess. The miracle she longed for was about to happen, but she almost missed it because it didn’t fit the script in her head.
I totally get the script Martha was following. In her story, Jesus could have healed Lazarus before he died. That was the plan. That was the window for a miracle. But once Lazarus took his last breath and four days had passed? In her mind, the story was over. The miracle had a deadline. An expiration date. And it had come and gone. Resurrection was something for someday, not for today.
And so, when Jesus told them to roll away the stone, she balked. Not because she didn’t believe in Him, but because this just didn’t fit the ending she had imagined.
My word. I can just see myself wearing the “Hello, My Name is Martha” badge.
You too?
I believe in Jesus. I believe He’s a miracle worker. And while I don’t expect to witness a full-on resurrection outside a tomb anytime soon, I know that God is still in the business of miracles. The small, quiet ones and the big, blow-your-socks-off kind too.
But when grief settles in. When disappointment takes up residence. When life starts to stink literally or figuratively, it’s hard to imagine that anything good could be happening in that moment, right?
I get so laser-focused on what I want to happen, what I think needs to happen, that I miss the goodness God is offering right there in front of me.
But don’t you just love this. God’s faithfulness isn’t fragile. It doesn’t break down when my prayers are messy, my plans fall apart, or the script in my head turns out to be way off. He’s not waiting for me to get my ducks in a row or get my act together. He’s already working in His goodness.
God is in the business of miracles. His perfect timing. His perfect, loving way.
Jesus called Lazarus out of that grave. And then? “The dead man came out bound hand and foot with linen strips and with his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unwrap him and let him go.’”
My goodness. I can’t even.
Maybe you’re standing in front of a situation today that smells like it’s way past saving. You’ve prayed. You’ve cried. You’ve hoped. And now you’re just … tired.
But what if, right there in the middle of the mess, God is working a miracle that doesn’t look like what you expected? What if His goodness is unfolding in ways you can’t yet see because you’re focused on the “stinketh” of the moment?
Sometimes the miracle is the one we were hoping for. Sometimes it’s something we never would’ve imagined. Either way, if we’re too focused on how it should happen, we risk missing the beauty of how God actually does it.
It might not look like a raised-from-the-dead moment, but it will still be holy. Still good. Still miraculous.
Because even when it doesn’t match our expectations, God is still working. He’s still writing goodness into our story. Sometimes in quiet ways, sometimes in surprising ones. But always with love. His plan may look different than ours, but His heart is always for us.
He is always good.
Anticipate His goodness.
