I wonder what Jesus was thinking as he ate dinner at his friends’ house in Bethany tonight.
By candlelight he shares simple food with Mary, Martha and Lazarus, this set of siblings who love him so dearly and so differently from each other.
Mary, with her extravagant gestures and adoring heart.
Martha, whose love is made of duty and service but is fierce and bright nonetheless.
And Lazarus, quiet and steady, a man who does his job and cares for his sisters, but got sick one day when Jesus was out traveling and preaching.
Jesus and Lazarus never got to say goodbye to each other when Lazarus was dying.
They never had a conversation about whether Jesus was the Son of God.
They were just friends.
Lazarus and Jesus loved each other without having to say it, and Lazarus lay on his death bed knowing Jesus would make sure his sisters were taken care of when he died, and feeling sad he wouldn’t get to see his friend one more time.
Lazarus, a regular guy who loved his sisters and his friend, who got sick and died, and then came back from the dead because he believed.
They’re back in the same situation again. Continue reading