Snow and Graveclothes

As I sit here a blanket of snow covers the world. Softly, silently wrapping us in beauty. As each snowflake dances its way past my window pane by heart settles in, content, and my thoughts turn to Mary and Martha. Martha, busy serving, working, doing. And Mary, settled in at the Saviors feet like the sweet winter snow.

And my heart is torn. Between these two women. The two roles they played. Neither bad, but the one was better. That day at Martha’s house Mary chose the better. I, like Martha, choose the good. I choose to serve, to keep busy, to do. Never time to sit, to soak, to marvel in the beauty.

So Jesus, patient, gentle Jesus, sends the snow. And the whispered “slow down, be still”.

And I am.

He sent the snow to Martha too. Only it didn’t settle in drifts, it wrapped in death. Just as the white flakes settle in to still me, strips of white linen wrapped lovingly around the body of the beloved brother stilled Martha’s heart as well.

“When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.” John 11:20

Martha, with a house full of company, with a funeral supper to prepare, with guests to attend to, leaves it all and runs to Jesus. And in her world, wrapped in white silence, He redeems her. He receives her. And Martha chooses the better, she chooses Jesus.

She has grown. She has learned.

And here in this holy moment, this moment of second chances Jesus speaks, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” “Yes, Lord, I believe.” And she does.

She believes that life must be lived in Him. That silent, cold, white worlds are not without hope. That even in death there is only one place she longs to be. Sitting with Jesus, at His feet, holding His hand.

And so it is with you and I; the ones who have chosen the good, and neglected the best. The ones who have lived by our own rules, holding tight to our own ways. The ones who feel frustrated, and worried about many things. We too are invited to come. To find words of life. To find healing. To find love.

It’s snowing harder now. As if God in Heaven is throwing a party for his precious child, I can hear Him beckoning me to come. Come and sit, come and worship. Come dance with the King. For soon, so soon, spring will come and the grave clothes will melt away into summer.

And we will live. Truly live.


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