A Biblical Fiction Short Story
by Chelsea Fain
Author’s Note
This short story is a work of Biblical fiction inspired by John 11. While Scripture tells us what happened, fiction allows us to step into what it may have felt like. Dialogue and inner reflections are imagined to help readers engage emotionally with the story, but the heart of the account remains rooted in the Gospel. My prayer is that this retelling helps you linger with the tension of grief and waiting that so often precedes God’s movement in your life.
“Oh no.” Her heart sank as she felt the burning temperature on his face. “He should be feeling better by now.”
She reached for the washbasin and a cloth rag. After adding more cooling herbs, she twisted the old cloth and felt the mixture flow through her fingers. She quickly applied the poultice back to her brother’s temples.
“Bring fresh water!” she called to the other room. Her sister rushed into the room with a basin of clean water and fresh-cut herbs.
“How is he doing?” Martha panted as she brushed sweat away from her brow. Martha had been tirelessly working throughout the house to keep fresh garments, water, and herbs available. She had just come back from the well with more fresh water when Mary called to her.
“He keeps getting worse! I am not sure what to do. His fever has worsened, and his breathing now sounds more like wheezing than breathing. I added more crushed eucalyptus to the poultice to help with the breathing, but I don’t feel like it’s helping.”
Martha’s head drooped in frustration when the news hit her. This was not what she wanted to hear. She had been praying so faithfully, and now this? Her heart reeled with questions as she whispered more prayers under her breath.
“I think we should call for the Master,” Mary suggested once again.
“We can’t, Mary. He is so busy with the ministry. Lazerus will be fine,” she paused as the heaviness of possible outcomes sank into the room. “Won’t he?”
The two sisters slumped heavily at their brother’s bedside. Their desperate hands each grasped their brother’s cold, clammy fingers. They had already lost both of their parents and were familiar with the feeling of impending death. Their eyes locked, and they could each see the pain and the fear peering out at one another. The sound of their brother’s wheezing was the only noise in the room.
Several heavy moments passed. Martha finally broke the silence: “Ok, we need to send word to the Master. We know that He can heal Lazarus. Let’s just pray He’s nearby, so He can get here quickly. I only hope we haven’t waited too long.”
Mary jumped up from the bed and rushed to the servants. She gathered four of their home’s servants. “Each of you travel in a different direction and don’t stop searching the surrounding areas until you find the Master. Tell Him that our brother is dying. We need Him to come right away.”
Mary sent the four men on their way with urgency, then returned to her brother’s bedside, where she found Martha slumped over the side of the bed. As Mary gently placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder, she felt the quiet shaking of sobs reverberate through Martha’s usually steady shoulders.
These shoulders, which have carried the weight of responsibility and pain since the loss of their parents, were finally breaking under the possibility of losing their brother, too. Lazarus had become their protector, provider, and anchor. How would they continue without him? Mary shuddered at the thought and breathed out another prayer for her brother’s healing. She lowered her aching body onto the ground beside the bed. She drifted off to the sound of her brother’s soft wheezes as her prayers slurred into a sleepy rest.
“Mary! Mary!” She awoke suddenly to Martha’s shaking hands. Mary could hear the desperation in Martha’s voice. Something was terribly wrong.
“What?! What is it?!” Mary jolted off the ground. Her vision blurred until it landed on the pale face of Lazarus. As soon as she saw him, a knot curled within her stomach. She knew. She rushed to him and felt nausea well up within her as her hand met his cold brow. The sound of Martha’s sobs echoed in her mind as the nausea turned to the physical manifestation of what it ushered. She bent over beside the bed and unloaded the weight into the wash basin she had previously used to keep Lazarus cool. Martha rushed to her sister’s side, where they fell into each other’s arms, where their tears and cries of anguish flowed freely.
Days had passed since their brother’s death. The sick feeling of loss filled the house and saturated the two women’s hearts. Questions permeated their thoughts alongside every throb of pain that accompanied the mourners’ cries. Where was Jesus? He was the Messiah, after all. Didn’t He know how dire the situation was? The messenger found Jesus at Bethabara and shared Mary’s message. Bethabara was only a day’s journey. Where was He? Why didn’t He come?
Amid the mourners’ wails for Lazarus’s death, Martha caught a faint cry from outside. As she stood to walk for the door, the cry became clearer: “He’s coming! He’s coming!” Martha listened to the words with confusion. Who is coming? As the messenger reached the door, the truth of his words hit her with both elation and the pain of betrayal. “Jesus is coming! He’s right up the road!”
Martha rushed out the door and searched where the road met the horizon for her Master. The shaking mirage of heat obscured the picture, but she could still see with certainty the outline of Jesus. He was indeed coming. But why now? Why the delay?
Martha’s heart sank deeper into confusion with every step as she approached her Messiah. She was fully convinced that He was the Chosen One of God, that He would bring salvation to the world! That He was the Son of God. But why? Where had He been?
Martha met Jesus with tears falling down her face: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died! I know—” her voice cracked as it began to rise in volume and in emotion, “I know that God will give you whatever you ask of Him!” Anger and pain welled up within her. She choked on the emotions and stopped herself from further questioning or offending the Master.
Jesus looked deeply into Martha’s eyes. She had met those eyes many times, but she saw something different in them today. She saw a tenderness and empathy that she had never seen before, as He opened His mouth and said, “Your brother will rise again.”
Martha was almost insulted by the words. She had heard Him teach on this before. “I know that!” She felt as if He were speaking to her as if she were a child. She continued: “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”
A gentle smile crossed Jesus’ face. It wasn’t condescending at all, but loving and sincere. Martha felt her anger towards Him subside, as if cold water had just been poured on the burning embers of her rage.
“I am the resurrection and the life,” He started. “Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live!” He paused again. The look of hope and life in His eyes lifted Martha’s heavy spirit. Although His words confused her somewhat, she recognized—somewhere deep within her—that they resonated and that she understood what He was saying, though her aching heart could not yet grasp the fullness of His words.
He continued, “Everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” His eyes met hers. He somehow peered even more deeply into her very soul: “Do you believe this?”
Her heart churned in conviction. Her voice shook, “Y-y-yes, Lord. I believe you are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” His strong hands rested on her shoulders. He pulled her in close and embraced her. She quickly said, “Lord, let me call for Mary. She has been deep in sorrow, and you know how ardently she loves you! Your presence will be so assuring for her.” Martha pulled away from the Lord’s embrace and left to find Mary.
When Mary learned that Jesus was outside, she felt similar emotions to those of Martha: a strange mix of joy, love, anger, and betrayal. She exited the house in such a flurry and collapsed at the feet of Jesus. Instantly, hot tears flowed from her eyes and onto his road-worn feet.
“Lord,” she sobbed, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died!” Her words were cut short by a gut-wrenching cry of anguish as she lowered her head onto His feet. She embraced her Lord’s feet and ankles as she released wails of deep sorrow and grief. Jesus looked at Mary’s heaving body and felt such tender love and compassion towards her. He leaned down, pulled her off the ground, and into His loving arms. There, on that dusty road in Bethany, Jesus joined her in her tears.
Jesus reached down to Mary’s chin and gently lifted her face to meet His. “Where is he?” He probed.
“Lazarus? He’s buried in our family’s tomb in the garden.”
“Take me there.” There was a powerful fire of determination in His eyes as He spoke this command.
Together, Mary and Martha walked with their Lord, each holding one of His arms as the three wept. There was something different in this approach to the cave. Mary and Martha could feel a strange buzzing in the air, almost like the buzz of electricity on a humid day with thick storm clouds brewing. Power seemed to fill each of Jesus’ steps as they grew closer to the tomb.
When they reached the cave, both Mary and Martha were shocked when Jesus called out to their attendants, “Take away the stone.” They argued with Jesus about the odd request, reminding the Lord of the stench that would greet the crowd if the tomb were to be opened. Jesus looked at the tomb with such strength, authority, and power that the group’s protests slowly fizzled out. So, they took away the stone. With every ounce of effort and grunt of hard work, the weight of His authority grew in the air. Something was about to happen.
Jesus raised His hands to the sky. At this motion, the crowd hushed in silence and anticipation. What was He doing? Then, He spoke: “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I know that you always hear me, but I say this on account of these people, that they may believe that you sent me.”
At this, Jesus opened His eyes. The fire within them burned brightly. He looked at the gaping tomb, which had announced with such seeming finality that death had won, and said, “Lazarus! Come out!”
Reflection
We often assume that if God loves us, He will arrive quickly. But Scripture reminds us that love does not always hurry, and delay is not the same as absence. Sometimes Jesus waits, not because He is distant, but because He is preparing to reveal something deeper than we expected.
If we look at John 11:5-6, it says, “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer.” His decision to stay was directly connected to His love for them. He loved them, so he stayed longer. It grieved Him to see the sisters in so much heartache, but Jesus knew the Father’s plan! Jesus knew that this family was going to be used by God to perform Jesus’ most powerful miracle and to display that Jesus had authority even over death.
It was because He loved them that He chose their grief as the platform for His Father’s glory. And He often does the same for us. Sometimes, you may be crying out to the Lord for answers and feel as if all you’re getting back is silence. When you’re in the quiet, waiting season and everything seems to be falling apart, remember this story. Remember that it was BECAUSE Jesus loved them that he chose to delay. It was through and by that delay that Mary and Martha were able to partake of Jesus’ divine power on display.
But it’s important to also remember that Jesus didn’t disregard their pain and sorrow. He wept with them. Jesus never relishes in our pain. He empathizes with us and cares deeply for us. However, God knows best, and His highest priority isn’t appeasing our pain. His highest priority is to use our pain for our good (Romans 8:28), to glorify His name (2 Corinthians 4:17), and to transform us more into His image (Ephesians 4:22-24). And that is worth far more than we could ever hope for or imagine in this life (Romans 8:18).
Respond: Where in your life are you waiting for God to move, and what emotions has that waiting stirred in you? What might trust and surrender look like for you in this season of waiting?
Image note: The accompanying artwork for this story was created with the assistance of AI, guided by the author to visually reflect the heart and setting of the narrative.
© 2026 Chelsea Fain. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or distributed without permission.
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