1/26/2026

Day 26: 

Martha and Mary

John 11:1–44 (NLT)

Lazarus was sick, and his sisters sent word to Jesus: “Lord, your dear friend is very sick” (John 11:3). They didn’t demand His presence or prescribe a solution. They simply placed the need before Him and trusted His love. This is the first mark of surrender—bringing our desperation to Jesus without attempting to control how He responds.

Jesus’ response felt bewildering. “So although Jesus loved Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, he stayed where he was for the next two days” (John 11:5–6). Love delayed. By the time Jesus arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had been dead four days. What they had surrendered to Jesus’ care had not been spared—it had died. This is where surrender is tested most severely: when obedience does not produce the outcome we expected.

Both sisters greeted Jesus with the same painful confession: “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21, 32). Their words carry grief, disappointment, and confusion. Surrender does not silence honest lament. Scripture never rebukes them for their sorrow. God is not threatened by our questions; He invites them (Psalm 62:8).

Martha’s faith, though shaken, endured. “But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask” (John 11:22). She could not imagine resurrection in the present—only in the distant future (v. 24)—yet she still trusted Jesus’ authority. Surrender does not require clarity; it requires confidence in who Jesus is. Jesus then spoke one of the most radical declarations in Scripture: “I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying” (John 11:25). He did not point Martha to an event, but to Himself.

Martha responded with surrendered confession: “Yes, Lord, I have always believed you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who has come into the world from God” (John 11:27). Before any miracle, before any proof, she anchored herself to Christ’s identity. True surrender clings to who Jesus is when we don’t understand what He’s doing.

Mary’s response was different but no less faithful. She fell at Jesus’ feet weeping. Seeing her grief, “Jesus was deeply troubled… and he wept” (John 11:33, 35). The Son of God did not rush past pain to demonstrate power. He entered fully into human sorrow. This is holy surrender on God’s side—Jesus allowing Himself to feel the weight of death and loss. Isaiah foretold this: “He was despised and rejected—a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief” (Isaiah 53:3).

At the tomb, Jesus commanded, “Roll the stone aside” (John 11:39). Martha protested with brutal honesty: “Lord, the smell will be terrible. He’s been dead for four days.” Surrender often collides with our assumptions about what is possible. Jesus replied, “Didn’t I tell you that you would see God’s glory if you believe?” (v. 40). Faith here meant obedience—rolling away the stone even when death seemed final.

Jesus prayed, then cried out, “Lazarus, come out!” (v. 43). The dead man obeyed. Lazarus emerged still bound, and Jesus commanded, “Unbind him and let him go” (v. 44). The fire did not come before obedience; resurrection followed surrender.

This story reveals a painful truth: surrender does not always prevent death—it often walks through it. God may allow what we hoped He would stop in order to display a greater glory than we imagined (Romans 8:18). Jesus’ delays are not denials. He is never late. He is always purposeful.

What stone is Jesus asking you to roll away? What has died that you thought God would save? Martha and Mary teach us that surrender means trusting Jesus not only with outcomes—but with timing, silence, and loss. Sometimes the greatest act of faith is standing at a tomb, believing that the Resurrection Himself is standing beside you.

“Surrender trusts Jesus not just to prevent death, but to call life out of it—

on His timeline, for His glory.”