DAISIES IN DIARIES 6: AND DEATH OBEYED!

Hello dear sisters, and welcome to Daisies in Diaries.

What we do here is very simple. We retell diaries that were never really written down, but could have been. These women from the Bible, from history, from the faith, lived real lives, went through real struggles, cried real tears, and made real choices.

So we take one moment from their story, and we imagine it in diary form to make it close, alive, and relatable. We picture what they might have thought, what they might have whispered, how they might have prayed on that day.

Each time we meet, we pluck one daisy, we open one diary, and we let their story speak into ours.

The diary we are opening is from Mary of Bethany. 

 

DAISIES IN DIARIES 6: AND DEATH OBEYED!

I had to come out here to write. I can’t breathe in that house right now. Too many voices. Too much wonder. Too much life. The air inside feels thick with awe. No one has slept. Who could?

Even now, it’s long past midnight and people are still outside our gate. 

Some are praying aloud. Some are singing. Others just stand, arms folded, staring into space, as if afraid that closing their eyes might undo the miracle. 

Bethany has never been this alive.

And Lazarus, my Lazarus, is in there, laughing. 

Laughing! 

Sitting close to Jesus, talking softly. 

Jesus Himself is still here. 

He won’t leave. 

Martha is fussing about, trying to serve everyone, wiping her tears as she pours water into cups. Her hands are shaking, yet she keeps smiling. Every time she passes by, she peeks at Lazarus as if to make sure he’s still real.

I can’t explain this night. I can’t explain anything anymore.

Hmmm. It all began so simply. 

Just a few days ago, my brother said his head hurt.

Then his stomach. 

He grew pale and weak. Martha and I tried everything.

We called the physician from the next village, but he shook his head. 

So we sent word to Jesus. “Lord, the one You love is sick.” Those words still echo in my ears. The one You love. Because that’s who Lazarus was, the one He loved. 

We all were.

We waited. 

And waited, constantly rushing for the door to see if Jesus had come.

One sunrise. 

Then another. 

Then another. 

I thought any moment I would hear the familiar knock on our gate, that calm voice calling, “Peace be to this house.” 

But He didn’t come!

The sickness grew worse. I sat by Lazarus’ bed, holding his hand, whispering His name. “Jesus will come. Just hold on.”

He didn’t.

Lazarus died.

In such agonising pain…

I still remember the silence that followed. 

The neighbors weeping.

Martha’s loud cries echoing through the valley. 

The smell of spices. The sound of stones scraping as they sealed the tomb. I wanted to die too. Every morning after that, I woke up hoping it was all a dream. 

But the tomb was still there, cold and final.

Then, today happened.

 

Also Read: Daisies in Diaries 4: The Day I Became Mad

 

When Martha came running from the road, her eyes wide, I almost didn’t look up. “The Master is here,” she said. “And He’s asking for you.”

The Master?

He came?

Now?

Finally here? 

Asking for me? 

I don’t even remember how I got to Him. I just know I ran. 

The moment I saw Him, everything inside me broke. I fell at His feet, sobbing. The words slipped out before I could think. 

“Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.”

He didn’t scold me. He didn’t explain. He just looked at me and held my shoulders as I shook in pain. There was something in His eyes. 

I could read pain, power, and love all at once. 

He asked to see the tomb. The crowd followed, soberly. We all thought He wanted to mourn Lazarus by the tomb!

At the tomb, He asked that the huge stone door be rolled away!

People held their breath at the thought of the stench that should emanate from the tomb should it be opened!

Martha tried to warn Him, “Lord, he’s been dead four days.” But Jesus just looked at her and said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

I did not even realise I had been holding my breath too.

When they rolled away the stone, the smell hit us.

It was the smell of death, of endings, of hopelessness. I cried. The women wailed. Then, I heard the sniffs, his hands tightened on mine. 

And then… He wept.

I couldn’t believe it. Jesus wept! My Master wept with me! 

Tears streamed down His face, pure, heavy tears that seemed to carry heaven’s ache.

I stared at Him through my veil, and something inside me broke. I had never seen such sorrow in strength, such compassion in majesty.

He turned toward the tomb, and I could see His jaw tighten. The air around us changed. It was as if all creation stopped to watch. Even the birds went silent. His tears still glistened, but His eyes burned with something different now. 

Oh my! Power.

He lifted His face to the sky and prayed. “Father, I thank You that You have heard Me.” His voice was low, but it carried through the valley. People stopped weeping. Even the children were still.

Then, with a voice that could have split the skies, He shouted loudly, “Lazarus, come forth!”

The earth froze. The birds stopped. The wails turned to silence. 

Then, movement.

I saw movement!!!

He came out. My brother. My own brother. 

Wrapped in grave clothes, stumbling forward, blinking into light. 

Martha screamed. People shouted. I fell to my knees, shaking, laughing, weeping all at once.

And Jesus… just stood there, calm, like the very storm of death had just bowed to Him. There were still tears on His face, but now they mingled with something radiant, like gratitude, joy, quiet victory. He looked toward heaven for a long moment, lips moving in silent thanks, as if speaking with His Father alone.

He did not rush. He did not shout. He simply watched as they loosened Lazarus. His eyes followed every strip of cloth that fell to the ground. He watched my brother stretch his fingers again, blink against the light, stumble into life. 

A smile, faint but full of power, played on His lips. It was the smile of a King who had reclaimed His own.

I wanted to run to Him, but my knees were weak. The crowd was pressing in. Children were crying. Women were wailing. Men were shouting His name, some in awe, others in fear. But Jesus remained still. Calm. Certain. As if He had always known this very moment would come to pass.

He turned to Lazarus, and for a heartbeat, it felt like time stopped. The sun caught His face, and it was as though glory itself rested there.

Then His gaze lifted and met mine.

That look undid me. There were no words in it, but everything was spoken. Love. Promise. Power. Purpose. 

I dropped my eyes, trembling. How could a man carry such authority and such gentleness in the same breath?

He took a single step toward me, close enough for me to see the dust on His robe, the moisture still clinging to His lashes. Then, softly, He whispered, “Did I not tell you, if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”

My lips quivered. I nodded through tears. 

I had seen it. 

We had all seen it. 

Death had obeyed!!!

He turned away again, laying His hand briefly on Lazarus’ shoulder. Martha clung to Lazarus’ arm, unable to speak. Around us, the whole village roared in disbelief. Some ran to tell others. Some fell on their faces. Others just stared at Jesus as though they were seeing heaven in human form.

And through all the noise, through all the wonder, through all the chaos, He stood steady. The same peace that had calmed the tomb now settled over Him.

I will never forget that face.

The face of the One who called my brother out of the grave and smiled while death obeyed.

.

.

.

Now the whole of Bethany cannot rest. Lamps burn in every window. People are whispering about the one who commands the grave. Some say He is a prophet. Some say He is more.

As for me, I know.

 

He is Life.

He is Resurrection walking in flesh.

And death obeyed.

I can hear Martha’s voice calling from inside. “Mary, come, come and eat something.” I can’t. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to forget a single breath of tonight.

I think of the tears I cried, the waiting, the confusion. I think of the silence when He didn’t come. Oh, diary, now I understand, His silence is never absence. His delay is never denial. He waited until death had settled, until every hope had gone, so that His glory could fill the whole valley.

He always knows what He’s doing.

And tonight, Bethany knows His name!

 

LESSONS FROM MARY’S DIARY

1. God’s delays are not denials.

Sometimes, He waits. Sometimes, He allows the pain to stretch longer than you think you can bear. Mary and Martha sent word early enough, yet He did not come. The house grew quiet. The sickness grew worse. Hope started to shrink. But you see, when God delays, He is never late. His timing is not like ours. He waited till it was four days. He waited until no one could argue the miracle. He waited till there was a smell of death, so that when He called life, everyone would know only God could do this.

 

2. The love of God doesn’t always move the way we expect.

They said, “Lord, the one You love is sick.” They were sure love would rush. They were sure love would hurry. But He stayed where He was. Sometimes love seems still. Sometimes love seems slow. But when Jesus finally comes, He shows that love is not just emotion but redemption. His love does not stop pain from coming; it turns pain into glory. Glory!

 

3. Faith is Stubborn.

Faith can cry. Faith can fall at His feet and still believe. Mary said, “If You had been here…” but she stayed there. She didn’t walk away. Faith holds on to Jesus even when it hurts. Sometimes the greatest faith is the one that stays at His feet, saying nothing but refusing to leave.

 

4. When God’s word enters a dead place, it must live again.

Jesus said, “Roll the stone away.” Sisters, what stone are you still guarding? What fear are you using to cover what has died? Roll it away. Let the light in. When His voice enters, death cannot argue. Death obeys.

 

5. Jesus wept.

The Son of God, the Resurrection and the Life, cried with His friends. He didn’t rush to fix their grief; He joined them in it. Sisters, when you are crying, you are not crying alone. He sits in your pain with you. That’s who He is, not distant, not cold, but near and tender.

 

6. Death still bows to Jesus.

Death bowed in Bethany, and it still bows today. Whatever carries the scent of death, your womb, your family, your ministry, your joy, your hope, must respond when He calls. His voice breaks tombs. His word walks into graves. His name still raises the dead.

 

7. Let resurrection change your perspective forever.

After that night, nothing frightened Mary again. She had seen the grave obey. She had seen the impossible bow. Sisters, once you’ve seen God in power, let that memory fuel your faith forever. When fear knocks again, remember Bethany. Remember the smell of new life. Remember the night death obeyed.

 

Rounding Off:

And here, sisters, we close today’s diary. What a fragrance it has left with us!

Do you want to read more diaries? Read other Episodes of Daisies in Diaries Here

Until next time, when another story unfolds, may your own life and mine also become a diary that whispers God’s faithfulness to generations after us. Amen.