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This, the first of his miraculous signs, Jesus performed at Cana in Galilee. He thus revealed his glory, and his disciples put their faith in him. John 2:11

The scene John describes is a wedding feast in a community where friends and family are getting together for a celebration. Jesus attends with his newly acquired disciples and with his mother. They join in the festivity until a problem starts to brew behind the scenes. Somehow Mary found out about it and then she brings the concern to Jesus. “They have no more wine.”

Jesus isn’t interested in getting involved. He’s just completed a big week in which John the Baptist solidified his identity as the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. He also gained five disciples. His public ministry has barely started. It seems a bit premature to jump right into performing miracles.

Maybe Mary thought Jesus would comfort the people in distress. She may have expected him to have a quiet conversation with the groom and his family to encourage them and to smooth the situation over. But that isn’t how the events played out. Discreetly, Jesus holds a conversation with the servants. His work was completely hidden from the hosting family and from the bridegroom. He didn’t draw any attention to himself as he completely exceeded Mary’s expectations. Her request for him to do something to ease the problem turned into a divine act that transformed the party.

The master of the banquet was quite impressed. “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink. But you have saved the best until now,” he said to the bridegroom.

He knew nothing of where this high-quality wine came from, but the disciples did. Jesus’ glory was revealed to them. In a common family living in an obscure town, glory shines. While saving simple, poor people from a disaster, glory quietly spreads in the form of kindness and compassion.

The disciples witnessed a miracle. It was done with the purpose of growing their faith in him and helping them to believe that he really was the Lamb of God, the Son of God, and all those other things John the Baptist said about him.

Can you remember a time when you were healed, or when an intervention occurred that protected you or provided for a need you had? Any of those situations would qualify as a miracle worked in your life. They don’t have to be big, awe-inspiring events. Miracles can be subtle, taking place in our common everyday lives. We may not even realize we’ve received a miracle until later when we look back and see that our circumstances could have gone very differently from what they did. We could have ended up with worse health complications or with harm done to ourselves or someone in our family.

But instead, we have this sense of being spared, of being rescued, and of being favored. We can’t explain it and we don’t understand it. We can only thank God for his attention to us and celebrate the blessings he has poured into our lives.

The disciples probably felt the same way. They saw Jesus doing his natural activity. To the disciples and to us, miracles are amazing and supernatural. But to Jesus, they are easy, and they are expected. Miracles are intended to help us believe and to grow our faith. Like Mary’s life, the lives of the wedding couple, and the lives of the small-town guests, our lives are filled with the simple, the common, and sometimes the disastrous. Jesus provides when our resources run out. His ways of working are discreet and sometimes hidden. He transforms problems brewing under the surface into invitations to place our faith in him.

Part I: A Flooded River and a Hot Furnace

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. The flames will not set you ablaze. Isaiah 43:1

This summer, I was sitting at the bedside of a patient, and we were talking about the hard things of life. We both agreed that if there was any way to avoid them, we’d take that route. After laughing and joking around, we settled down to the reality that there is no detour around hardship. We don’t get to take an exit ramp off the highway to travel the backroads. Neither are there any bridges to keep us out of the rivers, or handy barricades and signs alerting us to danger ahead.

“The only way to go is through,” the patient said to me. The tone of this person’s voice exposed first-hand experience with swift-flowing rivers and hot fires.

“The only way to go is through,” I repeated. My voice, too, held the sober understanding of what floods and flames mean to a person’s life and to their faith.

The first thirteen verses of Isaiah 43 give us the roadmap for successful navigation of the places in life where the road ends. Where do we go from here? What happens when we can’t see the road in front of us, or if we can see it, we notice the risks of getting stranded, burned, or drowned?

This verse uses the word “through” three times. When you pass through waters. When you pass through rivers. When you walk through fire. The Bible doesn’t say “if” you go through, like we stand a chance at going around somehow. It uses the word “when.”

Passing through the water and the fire are a given. It’s an assumed fact that our journey through life will hold waters rushing so fast and so strong as to sweep us off our feet, as well as the fires that burn so hot and so searing, they threaten us with torture.

In the book of Joshua, the whole company of Israelites had to cross the Jordan River in order to arrive at their new home. The priests had to go first. The Bible says in Joshua 3:15-16, “Now the Jordan is at flood stage all during harvest. Yet as soon as the priests who carried the ark reached the Jordan and their feet touched the water’s edge, the water from upstream stooped flowing. It piled up in a heap a great distance away.”

What those priests must have been thinking as they marched head-on toward a flooded river. They carried a heavy ark of the covenant and wore all their priestly robes. They’d sink and drown for sure.

But they went on, fully aware and probably scared to death. Three days prior, they’d heard Joshua declare that they would cross the Jordan to go in and take possession of the land the Lord their God was giving them as their very own. The priests knew God was with them. They didn’t know how God would save them from the flooded river, only that he would. They entered the Jordan, prepared to go through it, on blind faith.

Another story I think of is the well-known narrative about Shadrach and his friends in the fiery furnace, as told in the book of Daniel. They refused to bow to the image of gold the king had built. As a result, they were thrown into a furnace. The king was mad, and the provincial officials were loyal to him, but the three young Jewish men were calm and collected.

“We do not need to defend ourselves before you,” they told the king. “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from you hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know that we will not serve your gods.”

The king ordered the furnace turned up to seven times the usual heat. It became so hot, the flames killed the soldiers. The Bible reports the king’s words. “Look! I see four men walking around in the fire unbound and unharmed. The fourth looks like a son of the gods.” (Daniel 3:25).

Shadrach and his two friends were then removed from the fire. The Bible goes on to say that the fire had not harmed their bodies, nor was a hair of their heads singed. Their robes were not scorched, and there was no smell of fire on them (verse 27).

These brave young men had no way to get around the king’s anger. Their only choice was to endure it, and to go through with this stand they’d taken against his gods. The fire blazed in their faces. Deadly and dangerous, it licked at them in a sinister guarantee they’d reached the end.

But they knew God could save them. Even if he didn’t, they still chose to stand with him, and not the false gods. They were willing to stand for principles and die for their faith if necessary.

It turns out that the Lord didn’t require martyrdom for them. And yet, they still had to go through the fire. He was there with them, protecting and rescuing. Because of his presence, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego gave testimony to the power of God. The king broke out in praise and actually made a new law of respect.

God had given the Israelites the promise of a new home. They knew where they were headed and what waited for them there. The flooded river created an obstacle they had to navigate. It was temporary and brief, but dangerous, nonetheless. This impassable roadblock became an opportunity for God to work a miracle. He parted the water, allowing safe passage on dry land.

The young Jewish men in the book of Daniel displayed God’s glory in another way. His very presence was visible in the moment of their greatest crisis. God not only spared them from the destructive fire, but he also met them in it, walking with them through it.

God shows himself strong in our places of vulnerability. He helps us navigate the obstacles and he meets us in the fire. We may feel that our hair has been singed or that our clothing does smell of smoke from the flames we’ve been through. Or we might be coughing up water we’ve taken into our lungs while attempting to ford the flooded river. But we can still trust God to hold us in his righteous right hand, to be our shield, the one who sees us precious and honored in his sight, and the one who loves us.

Psalm 30 Part III: Redemption

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God. I will give thanks to you forever. Psalm 30:11-12

By verse 9 of the psalm, David has reached his lowest point. In a moment of desperation, of impending death, and of discouragement, he calls out in verse 10, “Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me. O Lord, be my helper.” It’s a statement of calm, childlike trust. It’s like David is saying open-endedly, “Your will be done. You know what I want, but you do what you want in my life.”

If the psalm would have ended here, we’d actually feel pretty satisfied. The psalm as a whole follows a pattern similar to one found in our own lives. We enjoy good times, a span of prosperity, a self-assurance of our own security. But then something happens, like a diagnosis, or financial loss, or pain in a relationship, and we petition God to return our lives back to normal, or to at least ease our anguish. We remind God of his promises, we pray much the same prayer that David did for God to be our helper, and then we wait.

That’s how most things turn out in real life. So if Psalm 30 were to end at verse 10, we’d consider it satisfying, and we wouldn’t necessarily expect David to say any more.

But the psalm doesn’t end that way. There are two more verses, and they are brighter and more exuberant than anything that came before. “You have turned my mourning into dancing. You have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.”

Something has happened that is even more significant than the first event that caused David’s sorrow. It feels like David has a sort of Job moment. What I mean by that is what we learn about Job at the very end of his story. Job received double not just of material possessions, but of the expected Biblical life span. He dies full of days. The Renovare Life With God Bible says, “In the midst of his prosperity and wealth, Job was stripped of all that had once defined him. He’d felt disoriented, deserted by God, and defensive toward his friends. Still, he clings to his conviction of God’s sovereignty. He feels God has left him, yet he can’t give up his belief in God’s ultimate goodness. I know that my redeemer lives, he says.”

In the darkness of intense suffering, God was Job’s redeemer.

Redemption means deliverance from some evil by payment of a price. Prisoners of war were released on a ransom. So were slaves. There’s also the concept of redemption of property. Ransoms and redemptions were the payment of the price of deliverance. The redeemer is the one who pays the price.

David knew he was under a sentence of death for what ever reason, we don’t know exactly, but the situation was dire enough David wasn’t getting out on his own. He needed a helper, a redeemer, a healer, and a restorer.

During high school, one of my sons worked at the redemption center in Pella. When I asked him about the concept of redemption, he talked about that job. Pop cans come in, get counted, and then the person who brought in the cans gets a reimbursement. The cans are redeemed at a set price.

In a sense, Job has brought in all his cans. He’s been doing so for a long time, hoping he will get rewarded at some point for what he lost, for all that he’s been through. He gets another family, but the first family is still lost. He didn’t get them back. The end of the book of Job is left hanging because everything hasn’t been made right yet.

Redemption has two parts. Job and David and others like them in the Old Testament see the first part. They know that God has the character to compensate for loss. They live in trust, like we do today, that God will recompense all losses because there has to be more. When will the people, the health, the safety, and the goodness we’ve lost be returned to us?

Jesus’ death and resurrection has happened between our era and Job’s and David’s, so we know the method God will use to restore and redeem, but it hasn’t fully happened yet. This is the tension Job lived in. He’d lost his first family but was given a second family. When will all of Job’s family be restored to him?

David, too, is feeling this tension. From earlier in the psalm, we can conclude that David lost prosperity and security like Job did. We also know he lost his son Absalom. And yet, David had hope. He expected that God would always act as a Father toward him. He expected that his faith would someday bring into physical substance the promises God had made to him. In hope, David cried out to the Lord and waited on him. This hope helped him to persevere. The promise of God’s redemption fueled David’s hope. He’s dancing and he’s praising God.

We live in the same tension, and with the same hope that Job and David did. We are still waiting and still trusting for the final, full redemption when death is conquered. When there is no more crying or pain, and all things will be made new. Relationship with the people we love will be restored. It makes our hearts ache, doesn’t it? Sometimes, I wonder if, underneath the goodness that both Job and David received from God’s hand, there was still an ache. An ache for what is still missing, and an ache of hope for what is still to come.

Hold onto your hope because at some point, those first rays of sunlight will crack through the clouds. Dawn will arrive, bringing with it the sunrise. Weeping may remain for a night, but it will end. The morning will replace it, bringing rejoicing.

Friends, you are favored by God. Sometimes he uses the darkness to make the strongest statement of his love for you. Do not fear the pain, or what may wait on the other side of it. God wants you to live free from the sin that casts shadows over your soul, chilling it against the blessings and gifts of the Lord. Sunrise eventually breaks forth in our lives at each stage of growth until that day when death comes. Then the ultimate sunrise of healing and victory envelopes our lives in a place where there is no more night. No more darkness. No more death or mourning or crying or pain. The Lord is our light and our salvation. Whom shall we fear? The Lord is the stronghold of our lives. Of whom shall we be afraid?

Psalm 30 Part II: The Dark Night of Grief and Death

To you, O Lord, I cried, and to the Lord I made supplication. What profit is there in my death if I go down to the pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness? Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me! O Lord, be my helper! Psalm 30: 8-10 (NRSV)

The previous devotional I posted about Psalm 30 mentioned the dark night of soul growth. In this devotional we will talk about the dark night of grief and of death. To do so, I’d like to visit the passage of John 11, which is the account of Lazarus rising from the dead. Pay attention to Jesus’ response. How did he handle this monumental, painful loss of a close friend? The darkness of grief affects even the Lord himself. Even though Jesus is working in the power of God and keeping everyone’s focus on the resurrection taking place, he still feels the emotion.

In verse 4, he says, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

Verse 11 has more of Jesus’ words. He says to the disciples, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep. I am going there to wake him up.”

Verse 23 has Jesus’ words to Martha. “Your brother will rise again in the resurrection on the last day. I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”

In verse 22, it says, “When Jesus saw Mary weeping and the Jews who were with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He asked where they had laid him, and then he wept.”

Verse 36 noticed what the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

In verse 38 at the tomb, Jesus was greatly disturbed. He told them to take away the stone. Then he prays. Then he tells Lazarus to come out of the grave.

From what we understand of this story, watching Jesus in action, he sees death differently than we do. According to verse 4, the cause of decline, which for Lazarus was illness, is for God’s glory so that Jesus may be glorified through it. For believers who have placed their faith in Christ, illness doesn’t end in death. We go on living, only we do it in a different place. Each Christian life that has been redeemed from sin brings glory to God through the power of Jesus’ resurrection.

Jesus sees death as temporary, as nothing more than a child taking a nap. The time when the last breath is drawn is when the person falls asleep. They rest in peace, without any suffering, and then wake up in the presence of God. It’s a beautiful declaration from Jesus of how little of a threat death is to the Christian. As Psalm 23 states, we pass through the valley of the shadow of death. All it can ever do to us is cast its shadow over our souls, but once we’ve traveled through the valley, we arrive in a place of light, of wholeness, and of beauty, unharmed.

As we see in Jesus’ interaction with Mary, he entered into her grief. he stood there with her and felt it like she did. At those times of painful, shocking loss when there is nothing to say, we can remember that Jesus shares it with us. He enters into the sorrow and the sadness, offering himself as the source of comfort, as the source of life. Jesus’ love for Lazarus, for Mary and Martha, and for everyone who falls under the sentence of death stirs him deeply. The Bible says he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. This is the love that drew Lazarus from the grave. It’s the love that kept Jesus on the road to Jerusalem. It’s the love that held him on the cross for you and me.

In verse 8 of Psalm 30, the word supplication is used. It is a request or a petition. David asked God for something. This isn’t the first time David made requests of God. His psalms are filled with supplication for mercy in Psalm 4, leading in Psalm 5, deliverance in Psalm 6, and salvation in Psalm 7 as a few examples.

David was right to cry out to the Lord and ask him for what he wanted. He makes his case stronger by telling God if he goes down to the pit, there is no benefit for God or anyone else. God would lose one of his most devoted praisers. If David is removed from the scene, the dust is all that is left, and it can’t take his place. Neither can it talk to give testimony to God’s faithfulness. David finds meaning in his ability to praise God and to tell personal stories of God’s love. They might be all he has left at this point, and he knows that if God doesn’t answer his prayer, it’s over.

David has a very good reason to petition God. David knows God has made a promise to him. It’s a promise of an heir, a son to come after him as a successor. The son hadn’t been born yet, so David understands that he at least needs to live long enough to see God keep his promise. In this prayer of supplication, David is holding God to that promise.

“What profit is there in my death?” David asks. He believes it would be inconsistent with God’s character to take him out of the world by an untimely death before God had accomplished the promise which he had made to him concerning his future heir.

He doesn’t give up in despair that God has forgotten or changed his mind. He holds to what he knows to be true about God and uses it as the foundation to his prayer. God had made a promise to him, so David is going to petition God and keep praying until he sees that promise come to pass.

There’s a relationship between God’s promises and our faith. God doesn’t merely make promises in words to feed us with empty hopes and then afterwards disappoint us. God’s word goes forth out from his mouth. It shall not return to him empty, but shall accomplish what he desires, and achieve the purpose for which he sent it.

There is no deception in God. He is faithful. If there’s a promise the Lord has made to you and you’re still waiting to see it happen but circumstances in your life are causing you to question how in the world everything is going to work out, then keep praying. Keep petitioning God. Paul writes in Philippians, “Don’t be anxious about anything but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.”

Psalm 30 Part I: The Dark Night of Growth

Sing to the Lord, you saints of his. Praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime. Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. Psalm 30:4-5

The phrase, “Weeping may remain for a night but joy comes in the morning,” has stayed with me as the best description of what our hearts can feel as we face uncertainty and change. This might include losses, unexpected decisions, or events that come along we never thought would happen to us. But through them, we discover that God uses the darkness to show his love.

This may seem like a strange thing to say, but it can also be the only way we have of making sense of our circumstances. We go through a sort of process of elimination by thinking about what we know is true. God is love, and he will never leave us. So, if we believe that, it means God is present in our dark times, and he loves us through our dark times. But we wonder where he is because often we can’t see him.

Think of a summer thunderstorm that comes up in the night. We know how storms are formed with high anvil tops and puffy, white clouds. If the storm were to come through in the daylight, we’d see the size and color of the clouds. We’d see the wind bend the trees. We’d see the haze of the pouring rain.

But at night, the darkness hides all that. It doesn’t mean the clouds aren’t as big and puffy, or the rain is less heavy. The storm was still there. It moved through, but with less evidence of its power. If it comes late enough in the night, we might miss it completely, except for random rumbles of thunder or flashes of lightning.

Even these, as impressive as they are, don’t provide the accurate measure of the power of the storm. The only proof we may ever see of its existence is in the morning when we step outside and discover sparkly raindrops on the grass or damp pavement long after the storm has moved on.

God works this way in our lives. He moves through with power and with great love, but we don’t see the evidence of his presence because he is hidden by the darkness of grief or of growth, or of death. We may not even realize he has been there until long after his work is done. Then we look around in awe and utter, “Surely God was in this place.” An echo of Jacob’s experience in Genesis after he’d received a vision.

After the thunderstorm moves through, the corn’s growth rate accelerates. It climbs to greater height and develops kernels. Even in the dark.

A Carmelite monk from Spain names John of the Cross lived during the 1500’s. He wrote a book called The Dark Night of the Soul. In this book, he described how God works in our souls not through joy and light, but through sorrow and darkness. This dark night can be a time of suffering, but it can also be a time of growth.

John of the Cross says the dark night of the soul is when a person loses all the pleasure they once experienced in their spiritual life. this happens because God wants to purify them and move them on to greater heights.

These dark nights don’t come upon us through anything we have done. These seasons of purification and growth are appointed by God in their own time, and for our good. They can feel strenuous and overwhelming, causing us to wonder if we have strayed off track or if we have offended God. We might ask, “Why has he stepped away from me, or why don’t I hear from him as much as I used to?”

In the darkness, God is taking away all our sinful habits so that he can create his holy life within us. No soul will ever grow deep in the spiritual life unless God works passively in that soul by means of the dark night.

The darkness can make us wonder if God is angry. The Bible has much to say about God’s anger, otherwise known as his wrath. But for our conversation here, I’d like to highlight verses from Psalm 103.

Verse 8 says the Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. Verse 9 says he will not always accuse, nor will he keep his anger forever. Verse 10 says he does not deal with us according to our iniquities.

King David, who wrote Psalm 30, had gone through his own dark night at some point. He’d been fighting a battle. The fight included enemies, and a fall into a low, deep place like a grave. He’d been injured and he’d been in danger, as implied in other verses by his call to God for help.

Whatever David’s situation was, it held a real threat of death, the low grave as his destiny, and the triumph of his enemies. He knows that without God’s intervention, he will come out the loser and probably die.

Have you ever had a night of restless sleep or maybe of no sleep? You try to relax and get comfortable but sleep just won’t come. Our minds stay busy with a worrisome problem, or our bodies feel pain that prevents us from settling down and resting. The hours on the clock tick by.

The darkness seems to last much longer than it should, and we wonder if morning will ever come. When the sky finally starts to lighten, we feel a sense of relief. We made it. We survived that whole dark, long night. Now morning has come. We can get help, see the doctor, or rely on our supportive relationships. Struggle and pain can make us feel stuck. Once we find a resolution, we can finally start to move on.

David had first-hand experience with the love of God. The anger came at necessary times of wrongdoing, but it doesn’t define David’s relationship with him. David sees himself always as a favored one, someone who gets special treatment and large doses of unsolicited attention from the Heavenly Father. It’s the nature of God’s interaction with him. David doesn’t expect anything different. He knows God as the one who cares about him and helps him. The one who is always on his side.

The apostle Paul says therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So, we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Hold onto your hope because at some point, those first rays of sunlight will crack through the clouds. Dawn will arrive bringing with it the sunrise. Weeping may remain for a night, but it will end. The morning will replace it, bringing rejoicing.

“Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” John 20:27

The apostle Thomas has been nicknamed Doubting Thomas, and for the good reason that Jesus uses the word “doubting” when addressing him. Even though Thomas went though a period of doubt and skepticism, he didn’t get stuck in it, continuing to doubt as though that sort of attitude reflected a hard, closed heart.

Thomas’ heart was actually very open, but it had been broken, and needed time to heal. Jesus knows exactly how to bring him around and catch him up to speed with the rest of the disciples. He had a very important mission for them all, and Thomas must be ready to do his part.

The first time Jesus appears to the disciples, when Thomas was absent, was a sort of commissioning. He shows them his scars, giving them first-hand witness of his body returning to life. He says, “As the Father sent Me, so I send you,” giving them a call to do the work he did. Then he says, “Receive the Holy Spirit,” giving them the power to bring God’s kingdom and his reign to earth. They are authorized to deal with sin and extend forgiveness on behalf of the heavenly father.

When Thomas was with them a week later, Jesus comes again. He shows Thomas his hands and side, the same as he’d done with the other disciples. But for Thomas, he goes a step farther and invites him to do the very thing that would solidify his faith. Touching Jesus took full hold on his heart, and he was convinced of who Jesus was, and the work he’d done as God’s Son.

Thomas isn’t left out of the commission. He has the same opportunity for a first-hand witness as the others. Jesus speaks peace to them as he’d done on his previous visit, this time including Thomas.

Where was Thomas during that first meeting of the disciples? Was he at a family gathering, or was he heartsick? Was he appalled at the crucifixion and discouraged by the reality that something so heinous could happen to a man his friend Peter had declared to be the Christ?

Thomas had put so much faith in Jesus, but maybe that faith had been misplaced. We can see how doubts get started, can’t we? They spin out of one hope, however small, that didn’t get realized.

James talks about doubts. He actually begins in the place of wisdom, saying, “If anyone lack wisdom, that person should ask God who gives to all liberally without finding fault. Let them ask in faith, with no doubting, for the person who doubts is like a wave of the sea tossed about by the wind. The person is double-minded and therefore unstable.”

Thomas had hoped in Jesus. Along with the other disciples, he’d expected a ruler, someone to set them free politically from the oppressive Romans. Not someone who’d allow himself killed by them . None of those hopes (i.e. dreams) came true. And now Thomas is feeling let down and misled, maybe even deceived and foolish for having been so gullible.

His situation is similar to Peter’s of requiring a reinstating from Jesus. Starting here in the last half of chapter 20 to the end of the book, John tells the story of two disciples being restored to faith from their encounters with Jesus.

These two men needed that extra touch from the Lord for the health of their own souls, and to meet the mission that waited for them. They’d seen the Lord, watched him work miracles, and heard his teaching in the parables. So much more defined Jesus Christ, the long-awaited Messiah, than the disciples’ self-focused dreams. He was the Son of God who’d risen from the dead.

This moment when Jesus appears to Thomas held both an ending and a beginning for the disciple. The path Thomas had traveled thus far, tending toward skepticism and unwillingness to accept sensational news without trusted evidence, had ended.

Jesus spoke, “Peace to you!” with Thomas present. He invites, “Reach your finger here, and look at my hands. Reach your hand here, and put it into my side. Do not be unbelieving, but believing.”

“Don’t be double-minded,” James paraphrases, but single-minded in your focus, in your devotion, in your faith. Love God with all your heart, all your mind, all your soul, all your strength, Jesus affirms. Look to God for the ultimate wisdom of what it means to believe. What it means to perceive words of understanding, to receive instruction, to exercise justice, and to properly channel our love. This is what Jesus was asking from Thomas.

It’s also the invitation into a new life.

When Thomas reached the end of the road, this new life of faith is what Jesus had ready for him. His new life would pick up right there in the appeal to his senses. With his eyes, he saw Jesus appear among them. With his ears he heard the greeting of peace. With his hand, he pressed into the healed wounds of crucifixion. On the inside, he filled with the conviction that Jesus was his Lord and his God. This is the beginning for Thomas. The rest of his life and service to Christ is fueled from this scene.

His faith becomes established on the word of God, and grows beyond all human capacity.

This faith leads to an indwelling of the Holy Spirit. It’s why Jesus breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The Spirit actually comes when the disciples are gathered in the upper room during Pentecost. Thomas is listed there, so we can conclude his faith took root, like seed in fertile soil.

The Holy Spirit would have taken it from there by comforting and encouraging him, and igniting his heart on a mission of passion and love for the one who has the life of God. Now Thomas, the disciples, and all of us who believe have this life in Jesus’ name.

“I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” John 11:25-26

The story of Lazarus is so intriguing. Many times I’ve tried to picture myself as one of Mary’s friends, rushing to her side as soon as news came of her brother’s death, staying through the burial, supporting her as she grieved. Questions would have flowed through my mind now that Lazarus was gone. How would the sisters survive in the world without him? Could anything have been done to prevent Lazarus from dying? What should we do to comfort Mary?

As her friend, I would have been one of those in the house with her, thinking Mary was on her way to the tomb to weep when she suddenly got up and left. All of her friends would have come along so that we might be of some help to her.

But Mary didn’t go to the tomb. She hastened along the road until falling at the feet of Jesus. The first words anyone would have heard her say for a very long time were to him. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Jesus, expressing his own deep emotion, goes with Mary and her companions to the grave.

It’s a scene of deep grief, of honest feeling, and of compassion tinged with frustration. The great destroyer, death, has snatched away from Mary and her sister someone they loved deeply. Jesus enters into their sorrow and identifies with it, weeping and groaning in his spirit. He feels the frustration too.

Death is the great interrupter to his father’s perfect design. His children, created in his image, were never meant for decay or separation from him. We were designed to love him, mirror and glorify him, and enjoy him like he enjoys us.

The sadness at Lazarus’s grave is far, far removed from God’s original intent. That’s why Jesus came, to restore our connection to God, and to eliminate the interruption of death to that intimate communion.

“I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus declared to Martha. “The one who believes in me will live.”

Our part in restoring communion is to believe. That’s how it’s done. Jesus does everything else. He provides the complete escape from death through his own death on the cross. Through him, we live and enter into an unbroken relationship with the Father.

The story involving Lazarus took place on Jesus’ way to Jerusalem. When he arrived riding a donkey under the waving of palm branches, the events of Holy Week began to unfold. Jesus, the sacrificial lamb, the atonement for our sin, moved a little closer each day to the horrible yet necessary realities of crucifixion. He went through it for our sake. He dies in our place, giving his life so that we can live too. All we have to do is believe.

This week, as we approach Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday, enter into the honest feelings of Mary and her sister Martha. Their deep griefs, their frustrations, and their trust in Jesus is ours as well.

Jesus felt great compassion for them just as he does for each of us. Mary and Martha looked to him as their source of comfort and of intervention.

“But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask,” Martha said to Jesus. She didn’t know how God would meet her need, only that he would.

Allow him to grow your faith this Easter season. He can enter into your sorrow, your frustration, and your need. Trust that he can do something about it, and then watch to see how he works.