Hello my friends,
This is Mark Gladman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks,
Welcoming you to Day 29 of Through the Wilderness,
Still Held,
Our walk through Lent in the Gospel of John.
As we begin today,
I invite you to truly become still,
Still in body,
Still in mind,
Still in heart.
Take a deep breath in,
And then out.
Be present in this moment,
In this minute,
Right now,
Just you and God.
Today's reflection comes from John chapter 11,
The opening story of Lazarus.
Here we're told something very simple,
We're told that Lazarus is ill.
His sisters send word to Jesus saying,
Lord,
The one you love is sick.
And then John tells us something striking.
John loved Martha and her sister,
And Lazarus,
So he stayed where he was for two more days.
It's one of the most unsettling lines in the Gospel passages.
Love is clearly present,
And yet,
There's a delay.
Jesus loves him,
And he waits.
For many people walking the spiritual path,
This passage touches something very real.
And very deep,
Because many of us quietly carry questions like this.
If God loves me,
Why didn't this resolve sooner?
Why didn't the healing come earlier?
Or maybe why didn't the healing come at all?
And why didn't the door open when I needed it to?
And why did the stretch of waiting last for so,
So long?
And the scripture doesn't avoid these questions,
It places them right here in the story.
Love and delay side by side.
Over time,
The spiritual life teaches us something difficult,
But important.
Delay is not the same as indifference.
Delay doesn't mean that love has disappeared.
Sometimes delay creates space for something deeper to unfold,
Something we could not imagine.
Yet see something that's still forming beneath the surface.
Anyone who has walked through a wilderness experience knows this.
In wilderness seasons,
Nothing accelerates on demand.
We can't rush the healing.
We can't force clarity.
We can't command life to move at our preferred pace.
The wilderness just invites us to a different posture.
A quiet posture of deep and abiding trust.
Perhaps that's part of what this moment in the gospel is revealing.
That even when the timing feels consuming,
Love is still present.
Even when the answers are slow,
Love hasn't been withdrawn.
So for a few moments now,
We simply sit with this reality.
Not trying to solve,
Just allowing honesty.
You might ask yourself,
Where does timing feel painful in your life right now?
Is there a situation that feels unresolved or perhaps slower than you hoped?
And as these things come to mind,
Notice the story that your mind tells you about the delay.
Perhaps the story says something like,
Maybe I've been forgotten.
Maybe nothing's changing.
Maybe love is absent.
Just notice it.
Just notice the story.
And now I'm going to encourage you to gently hold another possibility alongside it.
What if delay doesn't cancel love?
What if both can exist at the same time?
Unanswered questions and love still present.
Just take a moment to inhale slowly and exhale gently.
No need for clarity right now.
The invitation is simply to hold the tension with compassion and allow space for what's not yet unfolded.
Because in the story of Lazarus,
This delay eventually becomes the setting for a new beginning.
A deeper revelation of life.
But the people in the story don't know that yet.
They simply have to wait just as many of us are waiting.
So today we rest in a quieter trust.
Not a forced certainty,
Just a willingness to remain open.
Love may still be at work in ways we can't yet see.
So as we close,
Take one more slow deep breath in.
Gently release it.
And may you know patience with the timing of your life.
May you feel held even in seasons of waiting.
May you remember that delay does not cancel love.
And may you carry this gentle trust with you into the rest of today and every day.
Until tomorrow,
My friend,
May grace and peace be with you.
Amen.
