Still no Jesus?

Mary wept.

Martha watched the road.

Hope, once blazing like morning sun,

now flickered low, shrouded by the silence of a Savior who did not come.

They had sent for Him.

They had believed Him.

They had waited at the window,

watched the hours fall like sand,

held their brother’s hand

as the light left his eyes

and Jesus…still did not come.

What kind of love waits?

What kind of Friend lets death in through the door? What kind of Healer

lets the sickness win?

Oh—but if only they had known

what waited on the other side of silence.

Because Love may tarry,

but it is never late.

And even in the tomb,

He was working.

Lazarus, in his final breath,

must’ve whispered into the dark,

“Where are You, Lord?”

And heaven must’ve held its breath—

because even then, even there,

glory was waking.

They could not see the stone roll.

They could not hear the voice that would soon shake death.

But it was coming.

And so when you’re dying—

Of heartbreak, of waiting, of dreams long gone cold—And still no Jesus…

When prayers echo back empty

And time runs out—

Hold on.

If you find yourself

weeping at the window,

asking why He didn’t show up,

why the miracle didn’t come,

why the door stayed closed—

just remember:

There is a resurrection ahead

you never could’ve imagined.

Even in the stillness.

Even in the silence.

Even in the grave.

When it feels like the end—

it is only the beginning.

Because even when there’s still no Jesus…

He is still on His way.

He’s closer than you think.

And when He arrives,

Everything dead

Will rise.