Why?

Why?
Why? / Audio-Visual 

On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”

Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

“Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

After she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary aside. “The Teacher is here,” she said, “and is asking for you.” When Mary heard this, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet entered the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there.

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.

Jesus wept. (John 11:17-35)

The white space between Bible verses is a very fertile area for questions. You just can’t read the Bible without saying, “Hmmm, I wonder . . . .” For instance, I wonder if Eve ever ate any more fruit. I wonder if Noah slept well during storms. I wonder if Jonah liked fish, or if Jeremiah had any friends. Did Moses avoid bushes? Did Jesus tell jokes? Did Peter ever try water-walking again? Would any woman have married Paul if he’d begged?

The Bible is kind of like a knot-holed fence that separates us from God’s pasture – we can get a peek at some of the pasture, but still not see the whole thing. Or, maybe it’s like a scrapbook of snapshots capturing people during encounters with God, but not always recording the results. So we wonder, “Why would God allow this Coronavirus to infect the world? My world?”

I don’t have any glib answers to that question. Questions with the words “Why” and “God” in the same sentence are difficult to answer because we’re caught between what God says and what makes sense. We’ve done what he’s told us to do, only to wonder if it was him talking in the first place. We’ve stared into a sky blackened with doubt and wondered if we’re still on the right road. We’ve asked if we were supposed to turn left when we turned right. And we’ve asked if there’s a plan out there somewhere because things really haven’t turned out the way we thought they would. We’ve asked our questions. Maybe we’ve even questioned God. Regardless, we still wonder why God does what he does.

In the 11^th chapter of John we read of a funeral that involved some very hard questions being asked by family members with some very raw feelings. Lazarus had come from a very close family, among them two sisters, Martha and Mary. Lazarus also came from a good family and had a bunch of friends, one of whom was Jesus. The problem, as John recounts, was that Jesus arrived in Bethany four days after Lazarus had already passed. And as Jesus approaches the house full of people crying, both sisters run out to him, at separate times, and say, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Stated a little differently, “Why’d you delay? What took you so long?” And maybe in our current circumstances we’re asking some of those “If” and “Why” questions, too.

But I think these kind of “If” and “Why” questions are pretty normal. So, if you’ve been asking something similar, you’re not to blame. But if we’re not to blame, then who is? God? Well, that’s precisely what Martha and Mary imply as they grieve over the death of their brother: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Or, why did you delay? What kept you? I’ve learned some time ago that it’s pretty senseless to accuse God of anything, much less try to explain him. But it’s not senseless, and certainly not sinful, to question him. And maybe we’re wondering why God would allow this Coronavirus pandemic to even happen. And it’s okay to ask these kinds of questions because we know from our story that Jesus didn’t scold the sisters for suggesting that maybe, just maybe, their brother’s death was really Jesus’ fault. So, what was Jesus’ response? He wept.

Jesus’ response really puzzles me. Why is the King of kings and the Lord of lords breaking down and crying at that moment? I mean, here’s God with skin on attending the funeral of a friend and weeping openly, without embarrassment and without apology, knowing full well that, in a matter of moments, he’s going to raise Lazarus from the dead. But as you continue to read the story, answers to the family’s “Why” question gradually come into focus.

First, Jesus wept for the family – for Martha and Mary and, perhaps, others in Lazarus’ immediate family. When Jesus arrived he could see their pain and suffering, and the effects of losing their brother in their tear-filled eyes. So, Jesus shared in the loss of the family and wept. And those of us who have been affected by this silent enemy, or have even lost a family member or relative amidst the tumult, can weep as well. But I think Jesus’ tears were not only for the family, but because Jesus, too, had suffered a loss. Lazarus was Jesus’ friend. Maybe Jesus traveled with him, ate with him, texted him, Tweeted him, Instagramed him, Facebooked him. Whatever. However they communicated, Jesus had grown close to his friend. But Jesus’ friend was now gone; that relationship had been broken, and Jesus felt the pain of losing a friend. So, he wept. And those of us who are concerned for, or may have even lost a friend to this cruel virus can weep as well.

And there may be one other reason why Jesus cried: Jesus knew that he himself would soon face death. And he knew that there would be pain and sorrow among his own family and friends. And that’s not new information – each of us will face the reality of death eventually. But it may be, like some of us, that we’ll be orphaned by the death of a loved one or friend before our time comes. But the reality is that loved ones will be left behind. And so, Jesus wept.

And if that’s as far as the story went, it wouldn’t provide us much solace. But the story doesn’t stop there. John goes on to tell us that Jesus went to the tomb of his friend Lazarus and that’s when the truth of the matter becomes crystal clear: that in Jesus there’s the power of life because when Jesus spoke the words, Lazarus rose from the grave. And because of that event we, too, have hope. Because if Jesus can raise his friend Lazarus from the grave, he can raise us, too.

Jesus’ resurrection is the one thing that changes everything, because up until his resurrection he was largely viewed as either a great healer, a great teacher, even a great prophet – maybe all of those things. And up until Jesus’ resurrection, he was viewed by most as interesting, but largely ignored. People likely said, “Sure, you can have your opinion about him, I don’t care, but that’s just your perspective; that’s your truth.” But the truth is that the resurrection either happened, or it didn’t. It’s either truth or it’s fiction; it can’t be both.

Christianity is the only religion in the world that’s rooted in history. It’s based on facts, not myths, philosophies, opinions or feelings. Peter said in Acts 10:39-41 that he witnessed the pre- and post-resurrected Jesus with his own eyes; all of the apostles made the same claim. It’s not like any of them said that the resurrection happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away like Star Wars. That’s how myths happen; that’s how legends get started. And Paul stated that Jesus appeared to 500 others after his resurrection. (1 Cor. 15:6) In fact, the earliest Christian creed of Jesus’ resurrection dates to within months of the event. Not decades later. Not centuries later. Within months of the resurrection.

The resurrection is such a historical fact that even those who tried to deny the resurrection actually proved it. In Matthew’s gospel, the Roman soldiers were told, “Hey, if anyone asks, tell them that his disciples stole the body.” (Matt. 28:13) But how does that prove the resurrection? Well, it meant that there was an empty tomb; that there was no body. So the authorities had to tell the Roman guards, “Hey, when the people ask you about Jesus’ disappearance just tell them the disciples stole the body.” Was that possible, even plausible? Sure. But reasonable? No, because all of the disciples who ran away on Friday were unequivocal about this central truth: that Jesus was once dead, and now he’s alive. This is the fact they professed. But could the apostles have lied? Sure, but consider the cost.

Peter and his brother, Andrew, were crucified for it. Paul was brutally tortured multiple times and eventually beheaded for it. Thomas was speared to death. Matthew was stabbed to death. James was beaten to death with clubs. Mathias was burned alive. John, the only apostle who didn’t die as a martyr, was burned in oil by the Romans and just happened to survive it, so he was banished to an island so no one would ask any questions. These men didn’t crack like John Dean and his co-conspirators in the Watergate break-in. You won’t find any deathbed confessions, even if at the cost of their lives. And it is this fact that we profess. It is the one thing that changes everything.

There are some truths that make no difference in our lives, and there are other truths that make all the difference. But there are some truths that demand something from us. And the resurrection is one of those truths. The fact of the resurrection is the one thing that changes everything. Even now in a time of such fear and uncertainty for so many, the resurrection is still true. For those who have lost a job, their health or even a loved one, the resurrection is still true. And that’s why we persevere and witness in this faith. Like the apostles, they had time to recant if it hadn’t been true, but none of them did. They were unanimous, unified and unequivocal in persevering in this truth; and every single one of them died alone.

And right now that might be your story, or the story of someone you know or love, and the story, to whomsoever it belongs, may be overwhelmingly painful, and seemingly without end. And so we cry out with our “If’s” and “Why’s”? But that’s the very reason why we profess Jesus’ resurrection – so that we can persevere tomorrow. Because if Christ’s resurrection is true, then all of it is true. It’s the one thing that changes everything. And if that’s true, then God knows your name. (John 10:3) If that’s true, then God hasn’t forgotten you. (Isaiah 49:15) If that’s true, then Christ established his church for you to have a family you can call your own (Matt. 16:18), even when you’re alone and when we’re apart. If the resurrection is true, then it’s all true.

And so we stand at the fence of life looking through a knothole at God’s pasture that’s on the other side. We may be sad, we may be fearful, we may be unemployed, we may be alone and, perhaps, some of us may be looking through the fence bereft of someone they loved and they weep. Maybe we’ve lost a husband or a wife, a mother or a father, a daughter or a son, or maybe a friend, and I’m not talking about social distancing. We’ve lost their perspective and, to an extent, we’ve lost our perspective. And it’s coming to grips with our loss and uncertainty that hurts so much because it’s not our loved one’s loss – they’re on the other side of the fence now, gazing from that place which God has prepared for us all. It’s our loss. And the trouble is that, at least from our perspective at the place along the fence from where we stand, we can’t see them, or the future through the knothole. But then, again, we have memories and the assurances that, one day, we will.

Why? I don’t know why. But my faith in Jesus convinces me that he is more than able to keep all that I’ve placed in his hands safe and secure until he comes again. (2 Tim. 1:12)

Grace,

Randy