Surely we’ve all been here. The moment you open the refrigerator door and realize something’s off. The smell is a faint hint of decomposing. A signal that something has remained long past its freshness date. I look in the veggie drawer, toss a few questionable things out, and go about my day.

The next morning is much like the first. Open the refrigerator. Smell the smell. Search the cheese and meat drawer. Check the dates on the dairy. Toss a few more items. Go on about my day.

Three days later the smell has exponential power. Any time the refrigerator and now freezer are opened, our entire house is filled with the pungent smell of decay. Finding the cause of this smell is now a team effort. We both look. We both toss out what might be the problem. We both hold our breath when the door is open.

This goes on for five days. Five days!

I’ve come to expect the worst when I stand in front of the stainless steel door and give it a tug. I know what’s coming, and it’s not gonna be pretty. It stinks to high heaven. Reminds me that all the looking and tossing and cleaning hasn’t removed the death smell. Maybe I’ll tape a warning sign to the front. If you dare to open this door, it will stink!

Martha gives a similar protest. Standing there in front of the tomb with Jesus. Tears streaming down her cheeks as the reality of her brother’s death sinks deeper into her soul. If the one she believed could bring healing would have come in time, all would be well. She sent word. Asked him to hurry. Waited and watched for any sign of him. But he didn’t make it in time.

Now it was too late. Her brother was dead, and all that remained laid inside a sealed tomb. She believed she would see him again one day. When all this living was over, they would be together again. But not now. Now, she would have to learn to live life without him.

So there she stood next to the Messiah. Eyes all puffy and swollen with grief, suprised when she heard him say, “Roll the stone away.” She protested. “Lord, he has been dead for four days. The smell will be terrible.”

She’s not wrong. No matter where the decay of sin and death are stored. It stinks. Tombs.
Refrigerators.
Our hearts.

And I am a lot like Martha. I hear Jesus asking me to open wide all the smelly places of my heart. The shadow areas of sin and death. Places where the expiration date has long passed and the stink is so overpowering I’ve sealed it away with the faith that one day it will all be okay. One day… but not now. Now, I learn to live with it.

 Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”
_{John 11:40 NIV}

This is where I take notice. Martha doesn’t declare loudly that her brother is about to return from the dead. I’m not sure it even entered her mind. She has a choice to make. Leave the smell of death contained or obey Jesus and roll the stone away.

Faith’s next step is to simply roll the stone away, and release the horrible, rotten, stench of death. This is her only work. Jesus is about to do the rest.

He is the one praying. He is the one calling the dead to rise, empowering Lazarus’ short walk to the tomb’s entrance.
He is the One.
Not Martha’s prayer
or the size of her faith.
Not my faith.
Or yours.

When we believe, really believe He is the One. There’s no need to search for the thing that causes the smell. All the self-cleaning we do won’t have the power to rid us of sin’s stink. The size of our faith doesn’t resurrect one thing. Because we are not the one. Jesus is.

When we do, we discover we can see His glory, and that’s how it should be.

Because Jesus in the One.