The Confession of Martha

“She said to him, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world” (Jn. 11:27). 

Among the great confessions in the New Covenant, we have two that sound similar, one is generally overlooked while the other is universally recognized. Most faithful readers of Scripture recognize Peter’s declaration at Caesarea Philippi, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matt. 16:16). It has rightly occupied a central place in Christian theology because it precedes Messiah’s teaching concerning His ekklesia and the revelation entrusted to the apostles. Far fewer, however, recognize that the apostle John records a remarkably similar confession from Martha in Bethany. Standing before the tomb of her brother Lazarus, she declares to Yeshua, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” Peter’s confession has generated centuries of theological reflection, while Martha’s confession is frequently eclipsed by the miracle that immediately follows. 

I would suggest, however, that John intends precisely the opposite. Before Yeshua raises Lazarus from the dead, He first draws from Martha one of the highest Christological confessions recorded in the Gospels. The miracle confirms what the confession has proclaimed. John is not just telling the story of the resurrection; he is revealing the identity of the Resurrection. 

This truth captured my heart recently as I read John 11 during my devotional time. Martha stands beside the tomb of her brother, and when Yeshua speaks to her, she replies with a magnificent confession of faith. I found myself praying, “Lord, if I stood where Martha stood, could I have spoken such words of faith and devotion?” Yet she did. This was not a confession born of comfort but in the valley overshadowed by death and mourning.  

John’s Gospel is carefully constructed around a succession of witnesses who answer one central question: Who is Jesus? John the Baptist identifies Him as the “Lamb of God.” Andrew announces, “We have found the Messiah.” Nathanael proclaims Him to be “Son of God” and the “King of Israel.” The Samaritans confess Him as the “Savior of the world.” Martha declares Him to be “the Messiah, the Son of God, the One coming into the world.” Finally, Thomas falls before the risen Lord with the climactic confession: “My Lord and my God!” These declarations are not isolated statements but form a deliberate progression that leads to John’s stated purpose: “but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (Jn. 20:31). Significantly, John does not reserve these confessions for the twelve apostles alone. They come from a prophet, a fisherman, Samaritans, women, and finally a disciple whose doubts are transformed into worship. Throughout the Gospel, faithful witness is not determined by office or status but by genuine faith in Him. 

Within this pattern, Martha’s confession occupies a unique place because it is remarkably similar to Peter’s. As he declared: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Martha’s confesses, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” Both recognize Yeshua as the promised Messiah. Both identify Him as the Son of God. Both confessions occur at pivotal moments in their respective Gospels, immediately preceding a significant revelation of Jesus’ identity and mission. The similarities are too close to dismiss as coincidence. Rather, John appears to present Martha’s confession as a parallel to Peter’s confession in Matthew. Yet while the content of their confessions is strikingly similar, the circumstances surrounding them could not be more different.

Peter speaks at Caesarea Philippi after months of witnessing Yeshua’s miracles. Surrounded by the other disciples, he answers the Master’s question, “Who do you say that I am?” Jesus immediately declares that this confession has been revealed by the Father and proceeds to speak of the building of His ekklesia. Martha, however, stands not among the disciples celebrating miracles but beside the tomb of her beloved brother. The atmosphere is heavy with grief, disappointment, and the apparent triumph of death. Into that sorrow Messiah proclaims: “I am the resurrection and the life.” Martha’s confession is her response to that revelation. Peter confesses in the confidence of discipleship. Martha confesses in the anguish of bereavement. One speaks in the context of growing expectation; the other in the shadow of death. Both confess the same Messiah.

 Perhaps the greatest distinction between these confessions lies in their timing. Peter speaks after witnessing countless demonstrations of Messiah’s authority. Martha believes before seeing Lazarus emerge from the tomb. John records her confession before the miracle occurs. Her faith does not rest upon what she is about to see but upon the One who stands before her. This is underscored by the use of the Greek perfect tense: “I have believed” (ἐγὼ πεπίστευκα). Her words express settled, abiding faith. She is not making a momentary emotional declaration but affirming a conviction that has taken root and continues to shape her life. Even while sorrow overwhelms her heart, her confidence in Messiah remains steadfast. Martha reminds us that biblical faith is not optimism rooted in circumstances, but confidence in the character of the Lord. We are naturally inclined to believe the Lord after He acts, yet Scripture calls us to trust Him before we understand His purposes. 

John also presents Martha’s confession as part of a broader pattern in which women serve as faithful witnesses to Messiah. The mother of Yeshua is present at His first sign in Cana. The Samaritan woman becomes an unexpected evangelist to her village. Mary of Bethany recognizes the significance of Yeshua’s approaching death and anoints Him for burial. Mary Magdalene becomes the first witness of the resurrection. Yet Martha stands before the grave of her brother and articulates one of the clearest Christological confessions in the New Testament. John does not diminish the unique role of the apostles, nor does he present Martha as replacing Peter. Rather, he demonstrates that genuine faith and faithful witness are not measured by social or cultural position but by personal knowledge of the Messiah. In a first-century Jewish setting, where public theological testimony was often associated with men, John records one of the Gospel’s highest declarations of Jesus’ identity on the lips of a Jewish woman. This is not incidental to the narrative; it is part of John’s theology of witness. 

Yet, we might say that Martha’s confession surpasses Peter’s in one respect by adding a third title: “the One coming into the world.” This expression gathers together the hopes of Israel found throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. Yeshua is not only the promised Son of David, the Messiah, and the royal Son of God envisioned in Psalm 2; He is also the long-awaited Redeemer sent by the Father into the world. Throughout John’s Gospel, Jesus repeatedly speaks of being sent by the Father. Martha’s confession beautifully unites Israel’s messianic expectation with John’s theology of the incarnation. She recognizes that the One standing before her is not just a prophet, miracle worker or teacher, but the fulfillment of the Lord’s redemptive promises. 

There is another detail regarding Martha that we should consider. She is often remember primarily for the occasion when she was “worried and bothered about so many things” while Mary sat at the Lord’s feet (Lk. 10:41-42). Too often that moment becomes the lens through which we view her entire life. Yet John presents a different picture. When word comes that Yeshua is approaching Bethany, “Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met Him, but Mary remained seated in the house” (Jn. 11:20). John is not diminishing Mary, whose devotion to Messiah is unquestioned. Rather, he allows us to see Martha’s growth and maturity. The woman once known for anxious service is now the first to go out and meet the Lord, and from her lips comes a beautiful and powerful confession. We should be careful not to let one moment of weakness define a disciple whom the Gospel ultimately presents as a remarkable witness to Messiah.

Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Martha’s confession is that it is spoken in the midst of profound personal sorrow. Moments earlier she had lamented, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” These are not words of unbelief but of grief. Scripture never asks God’s people to suppress lament. Abraham mourned Sarah. David wept for his son. Jeremiah poured out his anguish over Jerusalem. The psalmists repeatedly cried, “How long, O Lord?” Even Yeshua wept. Biblical faith does not eliminate sorrow; it sustains the faithful through sorrow. Martha neither denies her pain nor abandons her confidence in Messiah. She teaches us that genuine faith can coexist with tears. Some of the deepest confessions of trust are forged not in the seasons of triumph but in the valley overshadowed by death. Countless believers who have stood beside hospital beds, walked through cemeteries, or buried loved ones have found themselves standing where Martha once stood. Her confession gives voice to a faith that endures even when the Lord’s purposes remain hidden. 

John’s narrative ultimately moves from Martha’s confession to Thomas’s. Martha believes before the stone is rolled away. Thomas believes after seeing the risen Lord. Martha stands before a closed tomb; Thomas stands in light of the empty one. Yet both proclaim the identity of Yeshua. It is fitting that John’s Gospel concludes with the blessing: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” In many respects, Martha embodies that blessing before it was spoken. She trusts before the miracle. She confesses before death yields its captive. She believes before she sees.

Peter’s confession becomes the foundation for Yeshua’s teaching concerning ekklesia. Martha’s confession becomes the foundation upon which Yeshua reveals Himself as “the resurrection and the life.” One confession is spoken in the confidence of discipleship; the other is the shadow of the tomb. One is born amid expectation; the other amid grief. Yet both confess the same Messiah. Together they reveal that authentic faith is not confined to moments of victory. Sometimes its clearest expression comes when tears still fill the eyes and questions remain unanswered. For this reason, Martha’s confession deserves to be remembered alongside Peter’s. It reminds us that some of the most profound declarations of faith are spoken not after the Lord has acted, but while we are still waiting for Him to do so. In that sense, Martha’s words continue to speak to the ekklesia across the centuries: “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.” It is a confession born not in comfort but in suffering, not after the miracle but before it, and for that very reason it remains one of the most beautiful affirmations of faith in all of Holy Scripture. 

“Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.”

The Lord’s Purposeful Forgetfulness

There is something remarkable about the promises the Lord made through the prophets concerning the coming of the Messiah and the gift of the Holy Spirit. The New Covenant is not only about the forgiveness of sins, as wonderful and important as that is. It is about transforming a people from the inside out, creating a renewed humanity that delights in knowing and serving the Lord. 

Through Jeremiah the Lord declared, “And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more” (Jer. 31:34). 

This promise reaches far beyond external obedience. Under the New Covenant, the Lord’s Torah, His instruction, is no longer written only on tables of stone or confined to scrolls. By the work of the Holy Spirit, His instruction is written upon renewed hearts, hearts that have been transformed by forgiveness and His purposeful forgetfulness. We are invited into a relationship in which obedience flows from love rather than mere obligation. 

Jeremiah also reveals another breathtaking aspect of the New Covenant. The Lord declares that He will forgive our iniquity and remember our sins no more. 

Take hold of this truth. The all-knowing Lord does not become forgetful. Rather, He chooses not to hold our sins against us. He purposefully refuses to bring them forward as a charge against those who belong to Messiah. His forgetfulness is not weakness; it is mercy. It is the deliberate decision of a gracious Father to remove our transgressions as far as the east is from the west (Ps. 103:12). 

Ezekiel completes this beautiful picture: “And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules” (Ezek. 36:26-27). 

Take note of the progression. The Lord does not simply wash away our guilt; He renews the very center of our being. The heart of stone is replaced with a heart of flesh. The rebellious spirit is replaced by His Holy Spirit. The One who forgives is also the One who empowers. 

Too often the faithful live as though forgiveness were only a legal declaration while continuing to view themselves through the lens of former failures. But the Lord does not just erase the record; He recreates the person. Through Messiah Yeshua, He washes us clean, renews our hearts, and writes His Torah upon us, not as a witness to our failure, but as evidence of His transforming grace. 

The apostle Paul beautifully summarizes this truth: “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins” (Ro. 3:23-25). 

Every one of us has fallen short. None can stand before Him on the merit of personal righteousness. Yet the Lord, in His immeasurable grace, has provided redemption through the blood of His Son. In His divine forbearance He has passed over our former sins. They no longer define our standing before Him because Messiah has borne them in our place. 

What encouragement this brings to weary hearts. 

Perhaps you still carry memories of failures that continue to accuse you. Perhaps regret whispers that you are forever marked by yesterday’s mistakes. The adversary delights in reminding the Lord’s people of sins that He has chosen not to remember. So why would we listen?

Do not confuse your memory with His covenant. We may remember our failures as reminders of His grace and the lessons He has taught us, but the Lord determined not to treat us according to those sins. He sees us clothed in the righteousness of Messiah. His forgiveness is complete, His mercy is sufficient, and His promises remain sure. 

This grace does not lead us toward complacency but toward grateful obedience. The Holy Spirit dwelling within us produces new desires. We begin to love what the Lord loves. We long to obey Him, not to earn His favor, but because we already possess it through Messiah. We desire to love the Lord with all our heart, all our soul, and all our strength. We seek His will in every area of life. We proclaim the good news of redemption to a world longing for hope. We walk together in the fellowship of the ekklesia, encouraging one another as we await the return of our King. 

What a glorious exchange has taken place. Our guilt for His grace. Our stony hearts for hearts made alive. Our rebellion for His Spirit. Our condemnation exchanged for His purposeful forgetfulness. 

This is why the promise of the Holy Spirit is so central to the New Testament. The Spirit is not just a gift of power; He is the seal that the Lord’s New Covenant promises have been fulfilled in Messiah. Through Him we know the Father. Through Him His Torah is written upon our hearts. Through Him we are empowered to walk in faithful obedience. Through Him we live each day in the assurance that our sins have been forgiven and remembered no more. 

Live, therefore, as one who has been made new. Walk confidently in the mercy of the Lord. Refuse to be imprisoned by sins the Lord has forgiven. Rest in His grace, pursue His holiness, and rejoice that His covenant mercy is greater than your greatest failure. The Lord who has written His Torah upon your heart has also chosen not to remember your sins. That is the freedom of the New Covenant, and that is the life of all who belong to Messiah. 

The New Covenant is not just about the promise of forgiven sinners, but of renewed sons and daughters who walk in the Spirit with the Torah written upon their hearts.

Maranatha. Shalom. 

The Shade of Hope

Have you ever waited? Perhaps you’ve waited at a bus stop, an airport gate, or a doctor’s office. We probably all have. But what if what we are waiting for is not immediate? What if it takes time to arrive? What then? Well, we simply keep waiting. 

In John 1:43-51 a man named Nathanael is pictured sitting under a fig tree. We do not specifically know why he was under a fig tree, shade? study? but there are some lessons to learn from his sitting, and his apparent wait. 

As this scene opens, Yeshua/Jesus is calling disciples. One of those called, Philip, turns and finds Nathanael. Philip excitedly tells him, “We have found Him of whom Moses in the law, and also the prophets, wrote—Yeshua/Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph” (Jn. 1:45). 

This is where, perhaps, Nathanael’s wait becomes more clear: messianic hope. 

Philip brings news that the Messiah has come, and come from Nazareth! “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Nathanael asks. “Come and see.” (Jn. 1:46). Such wisdom in those three little words: come and see.

Yeshua saw Nathanael, not just as he approached, but, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you” (Jn. 1:48). John’s account echoes the revelation of the Lord as אֵל רֳאִי, El Roi, “the God who sees me” (Gen. 16:13). 

“How do you know me?” (Jn. 1:48). Yeshua says, “Before Philip called you, while you were beneath the fig tree, I saw you.” We are not told what Nathanael was doing there. Perhaps he was praying, studying Torah, or quietly waiting in hope. Whatever occupied his heart, Yeshua knew.

Jesus refers to Nathanael in a rather unusual fashion, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom is no deceit!” (Jn. 1:47). Rather than simply calling Nathanael a Jew, Yeshua deliberately calls him “an Israelite indeed,’ recalling Jacob’s transformation into Israel. His description, ‘in whom there is no deceit,’ points directly back to Jacob, whose life had once been marked by deception. 

There is no lying, no trickery, no sneaking or conniving. He is honestly waiting beneath the fig tree, in messianic hope.

In Micah we read of this hope, “But everyone shall sit under his vine and under his fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid; For the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken” (Mic. 4:4; cf. 4:3).

Perhaps Nathanael was anticipating this hope; after all, the first century was filled with messianic expectation, as the Jewish people lived under Roman oppression. The hope described by Micah concerns peace, specifically a peace when the coming one, described by Moses, had arrived. 

Vines require years before they bear abundant fruit. Fig trees likewise mature slowly. Micah’s vision is one of settled peace, a day when the Lord’s people no longer hurry from danger to danger but rest beneath fruitful branches in the security of Messiah’s reign.

Yeshua concludes this dialog by again referencing Jacob, and the ladder vision. By pairing ‘an Israelite indeed’ with the vision of Jacob’s ladder, Yeshua invites Nathanael to see himself within Israel’s story. Just as the Lord met Jacob before his exile and transformed him, Nathanael is now encountering the God of Israel in the Messiah. But there is a time of exile before him, but fear not, “Most assuredly, I say to you, hereafter you shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man” (Jn. 1:51). 

Just before Jacob enter his first exile, the Lord appears to him, and assured him of His presence in that exile, in his wait. For Nathanael, the One he was waiting for arrived, “Rabbi, You are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” How was he able to make such a declaration? אֵל רֳאִי, El Roi, “God saw me.” And when God sees you, greater things are yet to be seen (Jn. 1:50). 

Nathanael, by sitting under the fig tree was seated beneath the promise of Micah. In effect, he took hold of the promise of God, and was waiting. As I’ve said in messages before: hope takes hold, and faith holds on. 

What is your fig tree? What are you waiting for? Or more precisely, Who are you waiting for? Be assured that He sees you, and He will be your peace. The One who saw Nathanael beneath the fig tree still sees people today. He sees your waiting. He knows your questions. He has not forgotten His promises. And while you wait, He Himself will be your peace.  

Maranatha. Shalom.