Lent 5A - 2026
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
Martha gets a bad reputation sometimes.
She gets described as the practical one, or the anxious one, the one who doesn't "see the forrest for the trees." But in this moment, Martha is very vulnerable and honest. She names what she believes—and what she struggles to believe.
And then Jesus responds: “I am the resurrection and the life.”
Not, “I will bring resurrection.”
Not, “I can explain resurrection.”
But, “I am.”
And then concludes with the question that sits like a punch in the gut:
“Do you believe this?”
That question is not just for Martha. It is for us.
It is not just that "resurrection" exists, or that resurrection is present and alive in Jesus. We are challenged to trust that resurrection is meant to dwell within us.
Because the Gospel is not primarily about what we are doing—or not doing. It is not about how well we have behaved this week, or whether we have managed to get everything right. The Gospel is about what God is able to do in us, and through us.
As Paul tells us in Romans. “To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” And then he says something even more startling: “You are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you.”
The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead, the same "resurrection" is present and alive within you.
So, looking back to Jesus’ question,“Do you believe this?”… Because if we do, then the resurrection is not just something we wait for. It is something we participate in.
Paul reminds us that Christ came to us not when we had everything figured out, nor when we were spiritually polished gemstones, but when we were still stuck, still broken, still unable to free ourselves from sin. Our death is now Christ’s death, his restoration is now our restoration. Not just someday. But now.
For much of history, the Church has carried on with this dualism, the mind-body problem, or "spirit-body" problem—this idea that the body is somehow less than, something to overcome, something to escape. But that is not the Gospel.
God created the body and called it good. Christ took on flesh and sanctified it. And the Spirit does not hover around us—it dwells within us.
Not just in our thoughts. Not just in our “spiritual” moments. But in our whole, embodied lives.
Paul is not saying, “Escape the body.” He is saying, “Let the Spirit bring life to it.”
So what does it mean to allow Christ to fully live within us?
It means we stop thinking of faith as something we perform and start recognizing it as something we receive. It means we begin to trust that God is already at work within us—even in the places that feel unfinished or imperfect. It means we practice paying attention to the Spirit.
In Scripture.
In acts of love and mercy.
In the ordinary rhythms of daily life.
And it also means asking some harder questions:
What do we hold onto that resists that life? here do we insist on being in control? hat patterns, what habits, what fears inhibit the Spirit’s work within us?
Because the truth is, the Spirit does not force its way in.
But it does invite. t does transform. t does bring life—if we are willing to open ourselves to it. And when we do, even in small ways, we begin to see something shift.
Life where there was stagnation.
Peace where there was restlessness.
Hope where there was resignation.
Not because we have suddenly become perfect, but because Christ is alive within us.
This is the promise Paul gives: “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he… will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.”
Life to your mortal bodies.
Not someday only.
But now.
