Jesus Is In The Hard Places
Jesus Is In The Hard Places (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 place for questions. It’s 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, like a scrapbook of snapshots capturing people during encounters with God but not always recording the results. So, we wonder, “Why did God allow _____?” You can fill in the blank. Me? I’m going to a funeral today and asking that very same question.
There are no 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 God 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.
In the 11th chapter of John, we read of a funeral that involved some very hard questions being asked by family members with some very raw emotions. 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 is that Jesus arrived in Bethany four days after Lazarus had already died. 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 wouldn’t have died.”
“If.” That’s a big word, if only two (2) letters. And if you’ve ever asked yourself that same question don’t be too hard on yourself because you’re not to blame. But if there’s someone to blame here then who? God? Well, that’s what Martha and Mary seem to imply as they grieve over the death of their brother: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.” Now, I learned a while ago that it’s pretty senseless to accuse God, much less try and explain him. But it’s not senseless, and certainly not sinful, to question him. And maybe you’ve wondered why God would allow certain things to happen in your life, i.e., death, divorce, disease, disaster. And it’s all right to ask those 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. And what was Jesus’ response? He cried.
That has always puzzled me. Why is the King of kings and Lord of lords breaking down and crying at that moment? I mean, here’s God with skin on (John 1:1 – “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God;” see also, John 14:9 – “If you’ve seen me you’ve seen the Father”) attending the funeral of a friend and weeping without embarrassment and without apology, knowing full well that he’s eventually going to raise Lazarus from the dead. But as we continue to read the story, answers to the family’s question gradually come into focus.
First, Jesus wept for the family – for Martha and Mary and perhaps others in Lazarus’ immediate family. You see, when Jesus arrived, he could see their pain and suffering and the effects of losing their brother in their tear-filled eyes. So, he shared in the loss of the family and wept. And those of you who’ve lost a family member or, perhaps, are in the process of losing a family member to disease like dementia or cancer know what it means to say a long goodbye. You’ve wept or you’re still drying your eyes.
But I think Jesus’ tears were not only for the family, but for Jesus’ own loss. Lazarus was his friend. Maybe Jesus traveled with him, ate with him, texted him, Tweeted him, Instagramed him, Facebooked him, Tik-Tok’d him. Whatever. However they communicated, Jesus had grown close to his friend. Now Lazarus was gone; their relationship had been broken, and Jesus felt the pain of losing a friend. So, he wept. And those of us who’ve lost a friend can understand because we’ve been there; we’ve wept, too.
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 each of us will face the reality of death, eventually. And it may be that we’ll be orphaned by the death of a loved one or a friend before our time comes. But the reality is that loved ones will be left behind. And so, Jesus wept.
And if that were the end of the story, it wouldn’t give us much hope. 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 picture becomes crystal clear: that in Jesus there’s the power of life. And because 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.
I think we’ve all, at least once, stood at the fence of life looking through a knothole at God’s pasture that lies on the other side without that family member, or friend and we’ve wept. We’ve lost a husband or a wife; father or mother; sister or brother; maybe a grandpa or grandma; even a best friend. Regardless, we’ve lost their perspective, and, to an extent, we’ve lost a part of our perspective as well. And it’s coming to grips with that loss that hurts so much because it’s not that missing loved one’s loss; they’re on the other side of that fence gazing from a place which God has prepared for those who believe. 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 through the knothole. But then again, we have our memories and the assurance that, one day, we will.
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’ve 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 all but one of them died a martyr’s death.
And right now that might be your story, or the story of someone you know or love, and the story 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 that 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. Even in the hard places.
Grace,
Randy
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