Bright ideas, simple reflections — a little light for every step of the way.
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Sunday March 22 – Fifth Sunday in Lent
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Psalm 130
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45
The One Who Loves You
Grace and peace to you in the name of the One who is the resurrection and the life—Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.
I remember doing some not-so-wise things as a teenager—maybe you do too. One time I took a pretty bad fall while goofing around with friends and ended up in the hospital with a broken collarbone and a lot of bruises.
What I remember most, though, isn’t the injury—it’s my mom.
She worked evenings as a waitress, and if you’ve ever done that kind of work—or loved someone who has—you know you don’t just leave your shift. You’re needed. And with seven kids at home, every tip mattered. So if she had to leave work, it had to be serious.
My dad took me to the hospital, and they admitted me overnight. I had just gotten settled into the room when suddenly—there she was. My mom came rushing in.
I remember thinking, “Either I’m in a lot of trouble… or something is really wrong with me.”
Of course, it was neither.
She was there for one reason:
because her child was hurting.
Nothing else mattered.
That memory came back to me when I read today’s Gospel.
Mary and Martha send word to Jesus:
“Lord, he whom you love is ill.”
Not, “the one who loves you.”
Not, “your faithful follower.”
Not, “the one who deserves it.”
Simply: the one you love.
That detail matters.
Because it tells us something about how God relates to us.
We often approach God a little differently, don’t we?
We explain ourselves.
We justify ourselves.
We try to prove we’re worthy of being heard.
“God, I know I haven’t been perfect…”
“God, I promise I’ll do better…”
“God, I really, really need you right now…”
But Mary and Martha don’t do any of that.
They simply trust in Jesus’ love.
“The one you love is ill.”
That’s it.
And yet—this is the part that’s hard—Jesus doesn’t come right away.
He delays.
And that delay is uncomfortable, especially for us.
Because we live in a world that expects immediate responses. We track deliveries in real time. We get frustrated if a message isn’t answered in minutes. We want solutions quickly—especially when it comes to things that matter most: health, relationships, justice, peace.
And right now, many people are carrying deep concerns.
Illness.
Grief.
Family struggles.
Anxiety about the future.
A world that feels divided and fragile.
We pray—and sometimes it feels like we are waiting.
Mary and Martha were waiting too.
And by the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been in the tomb for four days.
Martha meets him with words that are both faithful and honest:
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
There’s trust in that statement.
But there’s also grief.
And maybe even a little frustration.
And Jesus doesn’t correct her.
He doesn’t dismiss her feelings.
Instead, he enters into them.
We get one of the shortest—and most powerful—verses in all of Scripture:
“Jesus wept.”
The Son of God, standing in front of a tomb, knowing what he is about to do… still weeps.
That tells us something important:
God is not distant from our pain.
God is not unmoved by our grief.
God does not stand apart from suffering.
God meets us in it.
And then Jesus says those powerful words:
“I am the resurrection and the life.”
Not “I will be someday.”
“I am”—right here, right now.
And then he calls Lazarus out of the tomb.
Life where there was death.
Hope where there was despair.
Now, most of us won’t experience something as dramatic as Lazarus walking out of a tomb. But that doesn’t mean resurrection isn’t happening.
Because resurrection shows up in many ways.
In the slow healing of a broken relationship.
In strength that carries us through illness.
In communities that choose compassion over division.
In courage to keep going when giving up would be easier.
In hope that refuses to die, even when the world feels heavy.
Ezekiel’s vision of dry bones reminds us: God brings life to what seems completely beyond hope.
Paul tells us: the Spirit gives life—even now.
And Jesus shows us: love is stronger than death.
So what do we take from this story?
Maybe just a few simple, but powerful truths:
First:
You are loved.
Before anything else—before what you’ve done or left undone—you are the one Jesus loves.
Second:
God hears you.
Even when your prayers are simple. Even when all you can say is, “Help.” Even when your prayer sounds like frustration or grief.
Third:
God is at work—even in the waiting.
Not always on our timeline. Not always in the way we expect. But always with the intention of bringing life.
And maybe one more:
Sometimes faith doesn’t look like certainty.
Sometimes it looks like showing up… and trusting that love is still there.
So when you pray, you don’t have to prove anything.
You can simply say:
“Lord, the one you love is hurting.”
“The one you love is tired.”
“The one you love needs you.”
And trust that God hears.
Trust that God is present.
Trust that resurrection—somehow, some way—is still unfolding.
Would you pray with me?
Loving God,
You meet us in our grief, in our waiting, and in our hope. Remind us that we are deeply loved by you. Strengthen our trust when answers don’t come quickly, and help us to see signs of your resurrection life all around us.
In Jesus’ name we pray.
Amen.
God's Yes + My Amen 