The Love of Jesus at the Tomb of Lazarus

We’ve just finished the Rooted sermon series. But the Rooted initiative continues. That series marked a transition in the life of this church, from a church being planted to now a church becoming rooted.

In the second sermon of the series, Pastor Jonathan preached from Ephesians 3, which includes this prayer:

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. (3:14-19)

And so, because that prayer is still on our lips, it’s fitting that this Easter Sunday, we will be reflecting together on John 11. Because John 11 is all about the love of Christ. The love of Jesus permeates this story in some surprising, even shocking, ways. “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus” (11:5). He loved them. He loved them. This story is about the love of Jesus for them, and the love of Jesus for you.

Story Refresh

Refresh the story again. Mary and Martha and Lazarus are siblings. We meet Mary and Martha in Luke 10, when Jesus stays at their house, and Mary sits at Jesus’s feet while Martha bustles around and serves everyone. Martha becomes frustrated with Mary’s absence from the work, and protests to Jesus, and Jesus tells her, “Martha, you’re anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken from her.”

In the present story, Lazarus is ill, the sisters inform Jesus through a messenger, and Jesus makes a decisive declaration: “This illness does not lead to death. This illness is for the glory of God so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

Surprisingly Jesus then waits a few days before informing the disciples that they are going to Judea, to Bethany. The disciples aren’t thrilled about this; the last two times Jesus was in that region, crowds tried to stone him for blasphemy, because he was claiming that he was equal to God (John 5:18). “Before Abraham was, I am” (8:58-59). “I and the Father are one” (10:30-31). But Jesus insists that they must go, because Lazarus has died and they need to go see him. Reluctantly (and perhaps with some gallows humor), the disciples go with him.

When Jesus nears the town, Martha comes to meet him while Mary remains at the house with the large group of mourners. Martha expresses some hopefulness that God can still hear Jesus’s prayers, and Jesus declares himself to be the resurrection and the life. He then summons Mary to see him and she comes and falls at his feet weeping. Jesus is deeply moved and greatly troubled by this, and he himself weeps, and they all go to the tomb together.

When they arrive at the tomb, Jesus orders the stone to be removed (over Martha’s objections); Lazarus has been dead four days and the body has no doubt started to decay. Jesus then prays out loud and then cries out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out.” And the dead man lives.

Expectations and Confusion

Now before we reflect on the love of Jesus in this story, it’s important to see the way that the story is working. On the one hand, the reader’s expectations are set from the beginning by Jesus’s words, “This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” So as readers, we’re ready for something big. We’re ready to be amazed, to see the glory of God. We’re ready for a sign. In the gospel of John, a sign is a public supernatural act done by Jesus in order to demonstrate his divine identity and awaken faith. Water into wine, healing the official’s son, healing at the pool in Bethesda, feeding the 5000, healing the blind man—this gospel is filled with signs, and Jesus’s words raise our expectations as readers.

At the same time, the unfolding of the story leads us to identify with the confusion of the disciples and Mary and Martha and the crowds. Because their expectations are not being met. Their hopes are not being fulfilled. Instead, their worst fears are coming true. And so they’re confused and sad and frustrated. Notice the sources of confusion and disappoinment:

1) “Lord, he whom you love is ill” (11:3). What’s implied? “Come heal him! We know you can heal, so come do it. Like you healed the blind man and the official’s son. Like you’ve healed so many. We know you love Lazarus. So come, Jesus.” And yet Jesus delays. He waits two days after getting the news. It’s confusing.

2) The disciples fear returning to Judea, where the Jews had just threatened to stone him. Going back now risks the lives of everyone. Why go back now? It doesn’t make sense. It’s confusing.

3) Jesus seems to speak in riddles. There’s the confusion about sleeping vs. death. “Lazarus has fallen asleep but I go to awaken him” (11:11). If he’s asleep, he’ll wake up. We don’t need to rush into danger. “I didn’t mean he was simply sleeping off his sickness; he has died.” Is Jesus talking about sleep or death? It’s confusing.

Or again when talking to Martha. “Your brother will rise again.” “I know that he will rise at the resurrection on the last day” (11:23-24). What does Jesus mean by “rise again?” Now or later? It’s confusing.

4) Jesus’s emotional responses are puzzling. To his disciples: “Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there.” Really? Our friend has died, and you’re glad? That’s confusing.

And then, when he gets there, he is deeply moved and troubled in his spirt. He weeps. I thought he was glad. If he’s glad, why is he weeping? It’s confusing.

5) Jesus’s request is puzzling. “Take away the stone.” He’s dead, Jesus. He’s been dead four day; it’s too late. You came too late. Why remove the stone now? It’s confusing.

6) And to return to the beginning, there is one central thought hanging over the whole episode. It shows up in different ways. 

Martha (11:21): “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Mary (11:32): “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

The repetition tells us a lot, doesn’t it? What have Mary and Martha been talking about for the last four days? What have they been saying to each other over and over and over in the face of this tragedy? “If he had been here…”

The mourners finally explicitly raise the question that haunts this whole story (11:37): “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man also have kept this man from dying?”

And so while the reader is prepared for something big, for signs that display the glory of Jesus, the people in the story are living in confusion. This whole thing doesn’t make sense.

I highlight that confusion because it’s where most of us live. Every one of us faces hardships, trials, suffering, affliction. And for Christians who believe that Jesus is all-powerful, all-wise, and all-good, the worst part is often this confusion. Whether it’s illness (cancer, stroke, unexplained sickness, chronic pain), whether it’s the death of someone we love (parent, child, sibling, friend), whether it’s persecution, opposition, or enmity, whether it’s anxiety, doubt, depression—here’s what we know:

1) Jesus is able to fix this. He’s mighty and powerful. He’s omnipotent. We know he could fix it.

2) In his compassion, Jesus has fixed these sorts of things for others. He did heal the blind man. He did heal the official’s son. Earlier this week, I was reading Mark 1 in my devotions and a man with leprosy approaches Jesus and implores him saying, “If you will, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity/compassion, Jesus said, “I will; be clean” and immediately he was healed. That’s what Mary and Martha want in the story. “The one whom you love is ill. If you will, you can heal him.” And that’s what we want too.

3) Jesus loves me and has compassion for me.

4) And yet, the illness is still here, the death still happened, the persecution has intensified, and the darkness has not lifted.

We’re constantly saying, “Couldn’t you have prevented this?” We say, “If you had been here. In fact, you didn’t even need to be here. You healed the official’s son from miles away with a word.”

This is where we live. In the dark, in the confusion, in the frustrated hopes and unfulfilled desires, in the riddles and questions and the doubts. We live in the long days between our message to Jesus—“The one whom you love is ill”—and his confusing arrival a week later. And that’s where Martha and Mary and Lazarus lived. And yet John insists from the beginning, “Jesus loved Martha and Mary and Lazarus.” So where is the love of Jesus in this story? What does the love of Jesus do here?

The Love of Jesus Waits

The love of Jesus waits. This is the most shocking part of the story. The most shocking word in this entire story is two letters long. 11:6: “So.” Jesus loved Martha and Mary and Lazarus. So, when he heard about the illness, he stayed two days longer. Therefore, because he loved them, he stayed. The love of Jesus kept him from going to heal Lazarus and spare them the longest week of their lives.

Some Bible translators can’t handle that reasoning. They say, “Jesus loved them, and yet, when he heard, he stayed two longer.” In other words, despite the fact that he loved them, he waited. But that’s not what John wrote. John said, He loved them, therefore he waited. He loved them, therefore he let Lazarus die. He let Mary and Martha sit in their grief and their tears and their confusion and their questions. “If Jesus would have been here… Why wasn’t he here? Why didn’t he come right away?” Because he loves you, Martha. Because he loves you, Mary. Because he loves you, Lazarus. Because he loves you, Cities Church. The love of Jesus waits. 

The Love of Jesus Weeps

Second, the love of Jesus weeps. The crowds see this immediately. When Jesus weeps at the tomb of Lazarus, they say, “See how he loved him!” (11:36). And in this, we see the amazing complex and righteous emotional life of our Lord. On the one hand, he tells the disciples, “Lazarus has died, and for your sake, I’m glad that I wasn’t there” (11:14-15). He’s glad that he waited. And then, when he gets there, he weeps. More than that, he is deeply moved, literally, he’s indignant. He’s angry. He is troubled; literally, he stirs himself up. He sees the effects of death on those he loves, and he joins them in their grief and their anger.

Consider the responses of the two sisters. When they hear that Jesus is outside of town, Martha jumps up and runs to him. She is still holding out hope. “Lord, I know that God hears you, even now.” She’s grieving, and she has hope. And so Jesus meets her in her hope. Not only that he takes her hope deeper (I’ll return to that in a moment).

Mary, on the other hand, stays at home. Perhaps we detect some anger at Jesus on Mary’s part. She can’t even face him. “Why weren’t you here when we needed you? Why didn’t you come? Why didn’t you heal him from a distance?” But, notice also that, when he calls her, she comes immediately. And she comes as she is. She comes weeping and worshiping. She wails and she falls on her face before Jesus and pours out the thought that has been coursing through her mind. “If you would have been here…”

And Jesus meets her in her weeping. He sees her weeping and he is indignant at sin and death and the way that it ravages those he loves.

And this is so important to remember. Yes, the love of Jesus waits. It even rejoices in waiting. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t meet us in our weeping. When we come to him with our confusion and our questions—Where were you? Why didn’t you do something?—he doesn’t rebuke us. He says, “I know. Grief is great. I’m with you and for you. Bring your confusion. Yes, I waited. And now I’m weeping with you.”

The Love of Jesus Raises the Dead

The love of Jesus raises the dead. Jesus doesn’t just wait and he doesn’t just weep. He acts. He performs a sign that reveals the glory of God so that the Son of God may be glorified in it. After he waits, and after he weeps, he tells them to roll away the stone. Lazarus is dead. He’s dead-dead. His spirit has left his body and gone to Sheol dead. And so he prays out loud so that everyone knows what is happening. And then he looks at the tomb and calls out, “Lazarus, come forth!”

And Lazarus comes forth. The church fathers noted how important it was that Jesus said the name Lazarus. Had he not, had he simply said, “Come forth,” all the tombs would have emptied and the general resurrection would have happened right then and there. That’s how powerful he is. But instead, he calls forth one man, and that man comes forth, hobbling out of the tomb, wrapped in grave clothes and Jesus, in the face of everyone’s astonishment says, “Unbind him and let him go.”

The Love of Jesus Takes Us Deeper

The love of Jesus waits. The love of Jesus weeps. The love of Jesus raises the dead. And in doing it this way, the love of Jesus takes us deeper. This is what the whole confusing story has been about. The waiting, the riddles, the confusion, the weeping, the raising—all of them are designed to take us deeper, to awaken a deeper faith in Martha and Mary and Lazarus. And in us.

We see this in the central conversation with Martha. Pay attention to what Martha knows. Martha runs to Jesus with some vague hope that Jesus can do something. “But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.” This is a vague hope that God hears Jesus and he can do something.

And so Jesus takes her deeper. “Your brother will rise again.” “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” This is a general belief in the future resurrection.

And so Jesus takes her deeper. “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” The one who believes in Jesus and dies (like Lazarus) will live again. Those who believe in Jesus and are alive at the final resurrection will never die. Why? Because Jesus is the resurrection and the life.

This is where Jesus has been taking Martha. “Do you believe this?” With your brother lying in a tomb, knowing that I could have prevented it, Martha, do you believe this? And Martha says, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God who is coming into the world.”

The love of Jesus takes us deeper. Not just a vague hope in God. Not just a general belief in a future resurrection. No, the love of Jesus is calling for a specific, risk-taking, life-transforming faith that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, that he is the Son of God who is coming into the world and that he himself is the resurrection and the life.

And so Jesus stands before us today. We live in those long six days. And on this Easter Sunday, because he loves us, he says to us, “Do you believe this?” When the cancer is still there. When the illness is still unexplained. When the headaches won’t stop. When the pain is still oppressive. When the opposition won’t let up. When the darkness hasn’t lifted. When the doubts still weigh us down. When the body is still in the grave. When Jesus is not yet here. At that moment, he says to us, “Do you believe this?”

Jesus loved Martha and Mary and Lazarus. And he loves you. And because he loves you, he may wait. He may take you through unimaginable suffering and loss and pain. And when he does, because he loves you, he will weep with you. He will receive your questions and your confusion and your tears and your cries of, “Where were you?” He’ll take them and he’ll join you in your indignation at death and sin. And someday, because he loves you, he will raise the dead. He will wipe away every tear. He will right every wrong, heal every hurt, comfort every sorrow. And in the meantime, because he loves you, he is taking you deeper. He is revealing his glory to you in the waiting and the weeping and the raising. Whether you are like Martha who runs to him in her grief and confesses “I believe you are the Christ.” Whether you are like Mary who delays, but comes when called and falls on her feet and worships through tears. Or whether this morning you are like Lazarus, dead in sins, without hope and without God in the world. And Jesus is standing at your tomb, crying out, “Come forth.” Do you believe this?

Baptism

There are some here today who do. And they want to publicly declare that they believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God who is coming into the world. And the way that they will do that is through baptism. Every baptism replays the story of Lazarus. Those who are coming to be baptized will be buried in the waters, like Lazarus in the tomb. And then, like Lazarus, they are raised from the dead to walk in newness of life.

The Table

When Lazarus was raised, he hobbled out of the tomb bound in the grave clothes. Others had to unbind him and let him go. When Jesus was raised, the grave clothes were folded neatly on the ground. No one unbound him, because no one took his life from him. He laid it down of his own accord. He had authority to lay down his life, and he had authority to take it up again. They destroyed the temple of his body, and three days later he raised it back up. And here at this table we remember that Jesus is the resurrection and the life. So come and welcome to Jesus Christ.