Hello friends,
This is Mark Gladman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks.
Welcome to yet another day,
Day 30 in our journey through Lent and the Gospel of John in the wilderness,
Still held.
Let yourself arrive in this moment,
Take a slow deep breath in,
Gently release it,
Allow your body to settle where you are,
There's nowhere else you need to be in this moment.
Another deep breath,
Slow release,
And today we continue to listen to a conversation that takes place in the shadow of grief,
Still in John chapter 11.
Lazarus has died,
Four days have passed,
The house is filled with mourning,
And Martha comes out to meet Jesus,
And she speaks to him with deep,
Deep honesty of where she's Lord,
She says,
If you had been here,
My brother would not have died.
And there's faith in her words,
But there's also sorrow,
And disappointment,
Pain,
And confusion,
And many of us,
Many of us know this place,
We have been there before.
The place where faith and grief live in tension in the same heart.
And Martha continues and she says,
I know he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.
Now her words are just pure theology,
She speaks the belief her tradition has taught her,
But notice that Jesus responds differently.
He doesn't simply offer her a doctrine,
He offers her himself,
He says to her,
I am the resurrection and the life.
Notice the shift,
There isn't merely going to be a resurrection,
But I am the resurrection.
In other words,
Resurrection isn't just a future event,
It is a present reality grounded in relationship.
Now hear carefully,
Because Jesus isn't denying death,
And he's not trying to minimize Martha's pain and loss.
The tomb still exists,
Tears still come,
But he reframes everything within relationship.
I am the resurrection and the life.
Hope here isn't optimism and it's not the denial of grief,
It's rooted in someone.
Someone who stands in the middle of death and still speaks life.
Someone who stands beside mourning and doesn't turn away.
Hope in this story coexists with grief.
Both are allowed to be present.
And this is important for the spiritual life,
Because sometimes we assume that faith means moving quickly past sorrow.
But the gospel shows us something way more honest.
Grief can remain and hope can still quietly rise beside it.
Like seeds beneath dry soil,
The wilderness often holds this same tension,
Dryness and promise,
Silence and hidden life.
In the wilderness,
Nothing looks alive on the surface,
But deep within the ground something's always preparing to grow.
Hope often works this way in the soul.
It's quiet,
Patient,
Unforced.
So for a moment now,
Allow yourself to gently reflect.
Where in your life do you need resurrection language?
Not answers,
But the quiet reminder that life can still emerge.
And what grief do you still carry?
Perhaps a loss or a disappointment?
Maybe a prayer that seems unanswered?
Just acknowledge that and notice whether hope might be present beside it.
It might not be loud or demanding,
But it's just quietly there.
And into that I invite you to hear the voice of Christ still speaking.
I am the resurrection and the life.
Not only someday,
But here,
Even here.
Take a slow,
Deep breath and let those words settle gently within you.
I am the resurrection and the life.
Have you noticed that hope,
Real hope,
True hope,
Never rushes grief?
But true hope,
Real hope does stand beside it.
Hope waits with it.
Hope remains steady even when the path ahead is unclear.
You are allowed to hold both sorrow and trust,
Loss and life.
As we come to the end of our reflection today,
Rest again in a simple awareness of your breath.
Inhale slowly and release.
And let the presence of Christ be the ground beneath your hope.
Not forcing resolution,
Not demanding certainty,
But quiet,
Steady.
I am the resurrection and the life.
Let that truth hold you today.
And when you're ready,
Gently return to your day,
Carrying both your sorrow and your hope within the steady presence of God.
And may grace,
Peace and love go with you this day and all days.
Amen.
Until tomorrow,
Friends.
Bye for now.
