gritty faith

 On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.  “Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. ²² But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”
 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”
  Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”
 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; ²⁶ and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
  “Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

This is faith.  The odds were completely against  Martha and her sister of ever seeing their brother again. They had sent to Jesus a few days ago and he never responded...except for now, a few days after his death, at his funeral no less. Maybe not the most P.C way to handle things. But, even after her brother was dead and buried, Martha held tight to who she knew Jesus to be. He had proven himself before and he would again. She trusted him to do what he had to and even in the face of everything not making sense, she held tight to him and what she knew him to be. Even now, when Jesus is long gone from being physically here on earth, he's still working. Even in the long nights and heart wrenching days, my God is strong enough to raise me from the grave if that's what it comes down to.

I don't always believe that. Every morning I wake up to a new set of to dos and problems and questions and worries that are in that moment more then what I can handle. It's only when I hit my lowest points that I realize the same Jesus that talked to Martha is still sitting there watching me. The same Jesus that created earth and sun and water, who rose the dead and healed the diseases and restored sight to the blind is with me as I walk the halls of my home, my school, church, Facebook. All of which have their own problems and annoyances and arguments to deal with. But he's still there. No matter how far away the mission trip or worship service or sermon that really hit home gets, whether it's days or weeks or months or years ago or in the future somwhere, Immanuel, Son of God, is right where I am, matching step for step, day by day, week by week, year by year.

Even now, in the face of all imposibility, a voice of truth pierces through to the core of who I am and says you are mine. I don't care how long it's been since you've opened your Bible or prayed or forgave or even if you've never done so and even if you never do again, you are still mine. I forget, but he never has and never will.

Today's a bit of a lazy day around here thanks to a cold that lost me at least six hours of sleep last night, so this is one of my unpublished posts from my brief hiatus a few weeks ago. But it's still FMF and if you feel like it, go be gritty and honest and real and link up at Gypsy Mama

Edited 3/24/12