Do You Trust Me?

Have you ever heard of the name Blondin? He was a famous tightrope walker during the latter half of the nineteenth century.

On August 17th, 1859, Blondin strings a rope across Niagara Falls, and then before ten thousand screaming people, inches his way from the Canadian side of the falls to the U.S. side. When he gets there, the crowd begins shouting his name, "Blondin! Blondin! Blondin!"

Finally he raises his arms, settles the crowd and shouts to them, "I am Blondin! Do you believe in me?" The crowd shouts back, "We believe! We believe! We believe!"

Again he quiets the crowd and once more he shouts to them, "I'm going back across the tightrope but this time I'm going to carry someone on my back. Do you believe I can do that?"

The crowd yells, "We believe! We believe!"

Blondin silenced them one more time and then he says, "Who will be that person?"

The crowd goes absolutely silent. Finally, one person steps forward, Harry Colchord, Blondin’s agent. He climbs on Blondin's shoulders, and for the next three and a half hours, Blondin inches his way back across the tightrope to the Canadian side of the falls.

The point of the story is clear: ten thousand people stood there chanting, "We believe, we believe!" but only one person really trusted him.

What is belief, and what is trust, and what’s the difference between those two things? Maybe that’s what the Gospel reading for today is talking about. What was Martha feeling? Her brother Lazarus has died, and Jesus shows up, too late.

Martha says to Jesus, “If you’d been here when he was sick, I’m sure you could have healed him, but now, he’s dead, thanks for coming.”

But Jesus is not really happy with this. He says to Martha, “Let me tell you, if you believe in me, you don’t die! You believe that, don’t you Martha?”

But she doesn’t answer that question. Instead she says, “I believe you are the Messiah – the Son of God.”

So when they get out to see the tomb and Jesus says, “Roll the stone away.”

Martha says – and this is my translation, “You might want to rethink that one Jesus. He’s been dead for four days. It ain’t going to smell pretty in there!” Martha believes in the power of the resurrection, someday, but not right here and right now with her brother. And to me, this ambivalence over the person and power of Jesus is at the heart of this story.

Is our faith in God about someone else, somewhere else at another time, or is it about me – here and now - and what I believe? Do I trust in the power of God to accomplish the impossible? That kind of faith is hard. Do I believe in the resurrection? All the evidence is against such a conclusion. I'm going to need something more than an old Bible story to convince me.

I've walked by cemeteries all my life. I've seen thousands of graves. I've presided over hundreds of funerals, and not once – not once - has the "guest of honour", got up and left the chapel under his or her own steam. It's going to take more than an empty tomb to turn my thinking around. It's hard to believe!

We're so tightly bound to the evidence of our senses, and the rigorous demands of the scientific method. Every miracle can be explained away, and rising from the dead is simply the stuff of dusty, old Bible stories and supermarket tabloids! "I live in the real world, thank you very much!"

It's hard to believe in something so incredible as the resurrection. I expect, at the raising of Lazarus, I would have been with Martha on this one – holding my nose tightly as the stone rolled away. The whole business of faith is a tough call. Maybe we’ve tried it, and it didn't work. We prayed for health and got sick. We prayed for strength and became weak. We prayed for hope and joy and were overwhelmed by depression. We prayed for faith and found only despair. We prayed for life and were struck down by death. How many times do you go to the dry, old well - let down your bucket and come up with only dust? If that's all you find, how many times, how much longer, do you keep going back?

Let’s face it, the culture around us doesn’t have a lot of time for faith. It’s lame, it’s unsophisticated, it’s weak. In 2026, atheism is the way to go. Or if you must - a polite "no thank you" portion of faith - an appropriate attendance at church for Christmas and Easter, funerals and weddings. Or failing that, a little dalliance into the realm of post modern spirituality – psychics and cosmic souls and “higher powers.”

And besides, is it all worth it? Do we really want to give over to God as much as Christianity seems to expect of us – a generous portion of time, talents and treasures - in hopes of a rather uncertain return on our investment. Will the pay off for growth and maturity as a disciple of Jesus Christ be sufficient compensation for the sacrifices we may have to make? Do you really want to be a Mother Teresa - giving it all up to God, only to discover you die and there's no Heaven? It would be a bit of a disappointment. After all, there are no guarantees it will all turn out to have been worth all the trouble.

But, you know, when I think a little harder, and a little deeper, it's almost as difficult for me to disbelieve in God and eternal life. I wonder about questions like: Why am I here? Who created the universe? Why is their love? What power animates my spirit and my dreams? How can death possibly defeat the meaning of my life, and yours?

In fact, I wonder if the real problem is not so much with the nature of God, or the nature of our universe, or the demands of faith, perhaps the real obstacles to belief are inside me. After all, it's my choice to keep my muzzle firmly stuck into the feed trough, refusing to look up and out at the wondrous creation and the mysteries of life, which surround me on every side. And it's kind of satisfying to munch away on the "stuff" of life - the kids, the mortgage, the career path, the RSPs. We know how to read a bank balance, and figure out who's got the best house and the most toys, but we're not so sure how to read the stars, or measure the human soul, or touch the face of God. And we know how to be competitive. And we know how to win. And we know how pleasure feels, and the heady stuff of power and fame and prestige. And we know how to hide our fears and our insecurities, and the broken areas of our human spirit, we just don't know how to fix them.

Don’t you long for a resurrection within yourself? For the dawning of God's healing love - touching our hearts and minds -making us joyful and whole and at peace with ourselves. But we're not sure how to make that happen, or what it might cost us in real terms, or whether we're ready to really shoulder the weight of the cross. It's often easier to be earth-bound, than to really trust in God! Sometimes it just seems easier, not to really believe – to pay lip service, but not go all the way - to keep our eyes on the ground, and never let the glitter of starlight make us swoon with the mystery of it all. But then, where does that leave us Martha’s?

That I have to be strong enough to make it on my own – to get through everything life throws at me, without God. Believing I can control the situation and circumstances of life. I can manage all my feelings and moods. I can be disciplined and powerful enough to mold and shape my life into what I want it to be.

“How’s that working for you?”

Not so well. I’m not that strong. I can’t seem to pull myself up by my own bootstraps. The tiniest little thing - an offhand remark, a niggling doubt, the suspicion of disloyalty - and suddenly all my hopes and dreams begin to crumble. My self confidence is shaken!

A couple of weeks ago, I was watching a movie: a man and woman are having an affair and they conspire together to murder the woman's wealthy husband, so they can make their relationship legitimate and complete - and be rich! But when the detective brings in the woman for questioning, he messes with her mind. He leads her to believe that her lover may have been disloyal and pointed the finger at her. Now, up until this point, their love has been strong - no indications of any weakness in the solidarity of their trust for one another. Now suddenly, the woman begins to doubt, and without her lover having done anything to betray her confidence and loyalty, she begins to "spill the beans," and put the blame on him.

You know, there’s only one way that trick can work, because of our own internal fears and doubts about who we are and our own self worth. We're not really as strong and independent and courageous as we might like to think.

Have you ever wondered whether or not you’re truly lovable, worthy of the care and unwavering devotion of another? We're not sure of who we are, or who's on our side, or if there's really any value in our human lives. Is it possible this is precisely why we need to trust God? Why is an experience of God in our lives indispensable? Do we need someone or something to heal our brokenness? Do you ever lie awake at three in the morning, with some demon gnawing away at your soul? Is it possible we need the miracle of the resurrection, and not just at the end of life, but also, time and again during life, when circumstances overwhelm us and we begin to drown? Is it possible, we can’t make it alone?

Some time ago, I was visiting with a man in the hospital – a man who had left the church - stopped coming. He told me I could tell you his story. Earlier in his life, he’d been involved in the church. He grew up in the church! Sunday school teacher, Board of Managers – put twenty bucks on the offering plate every Sunday! I went to see him because he used to be a member, years ago. But he left all that stuff.

And then one day, he wakes up in the hospital. He has tubes and lines and wires running from every part of his body. He’s breathing through a tracheotomy. He can’t speak. He can’t move. He’s lying there helpless and immobile.

I was fortunate enough to be there thirty-four days later when they finally put a cap on his trach tube. When he said his first words in 34 days. He tries his voice. It’s a little croaky. He greets his wife and son who are there, and then to my surprise, he turns to me and this is actually what he says.

“Reverend, when I woke up 34 days ago in an ICU full of tubes and wires, I reached out my hand and put it into the hand of God. I knew there was nothing else for me to do. And I believe that’s the only way I got through this.”

As they roll away the stone from the entrance to the tomb where the body of Lazarus has been laid, Jesus says “I am the resurrection and the life.” And then he turns to Martha and says, “Do you believe me?” He asks the same question today. “Do you believe me? Do you trust me?” It’s a hard question to answer, isn’t it?

The great 20th century journalist and author, Malcolm Muggeridge, who came to faith late in life, gives this answer:

‘For myself, as I approach my end, I find the outrageous claim of Jesus even more captivating and meaningful. Quite often, waking up in the night, I feel myself to be half out of my body, hovering between life and death, with eternity rising in the distance.

‘I see my ancient carcass, and, hovering over it, myself, like a butterfly released from its chrysalis.

‘In that limbo between living and dying, as the night clocks tick remorselessly on, and the black sky implacably shows not one streak or scratch of gray, I hear those words: "I am the resurrection, and the life", and feel myself to be carried along on a great tide of joy and peace.’