by Robin Gray
In starting this blog it was my intention to begin in John 1 and go through the life of Jesus, then move on to other topics as I feel directed. But my approach to my faith is not always linear, and it speaks to me through whatever life situation I may be facing. So today, I’ll be taking a short detour further into the gospel of John as I feel guided there by the Spirit and my little grandson, Triston.
My daughter messaged me this morning and wanted me to find my four year old grandson a Bible that she could read to him on his level of understanding. I try to buy books for him and his little sister as often as I can and his mother reads to them. One of those books happened to be about a little boy whose grandfather died, and now Triston has quite a few questions and concerns. I don’t know why I bought him the book, but I think I probably picked it up right after Triston’s great-grandpa passed away last July, a mere four days after he turned four. She wants the Bible to help him understand the concept of death from a faith perspective, the way I tried to teach her and her sister when they were little. That’s a tough thing for a little mind to comprehend, but he is asking, and his questions deserve answers.
In our group chat this morning my sister suggested that perhaps he was struggling with the idea of separation from the people he loves. I thought about her statement and my response is,
“Don’t we all?”
Don’t we all dread that separation the most? Isn’t that the hardest thing about death, knowing that we can’t just pick up the phone, or go by to visit, or get a hug, or just see a precious face one more time?
“Lazarus is dead…”
John chapter eleven tells us the story of a family of two sisters and a brother who had a rather close relationship with Jesus. The sisters sent word to him that their brother was sick, and pleaded with him to come. In spite of that personal friendship, Jesus waited two more days, telling his disciples that the sickness “would not end in death” (John 11:4). So when the two days passed and he told them that Lazarus was sleeping and they needed to return to Judea, the confused disciples assumed he meant that Lazarus was indeed just asleep until Jesus matter of factly said to them, “Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe” (John 11:15).
Huh??? He just said the sickness wouldn’t kill him, and now he says he’s dead! (Exasperation, incredulity, confusion… I can almost see the “wow” emoji on their faces now!)
“Lord, if you had been here…”
After a four day journey to Judea and the little house in Bethany, Jesus encountered his friend Martha who went out to meet him. Initially, Mary didn’t even come out of the house. The sisters were sad. They were grieving. But more than that, I believe they were hurt with their friend, and greatly disappointed and confused by their brother’s death and Jesus’s reluctance to come when they called.
Their frustration culminated in a single statement spoken by both sisters at different moments. Martha, when she went out to meet him, and Mary when Jesus called for her a short time later.
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died…”
How that statement resonates with me today like it did the first time I read it and understood it. How often I have felt that, thought that, said that over the death of someone I love so much. “Lord, if you had only been here…” the unspoken conclusion of that thought is “but you weren’t… you weren’t here… and now hope is lost.”
“Jesus wept…”
Even though he knew his purpose and that he would raise Lazarus from the tomb that day, Jesus was moved with compassion for his friends and those mourning with them. The shortest and one of the most memorable verses in the Bible can be found in John 11:35 and simply says, “Jesus wept.” They were moved to tears by their grief, and so was he. That also gives me hope in times of despair, that God sees, and more importantly, that God cares. And even if he doesn’t change things to my liking, it’s comforting to know that he cries right along with me.
“I am the resurrection and the life…”
Those of us who are well familiar with the story know what happens next. Jesus goes to Lazarus’s tomb, and asks that the stone be rolled away. Then he calls Lazarus from the grave and from death, and returns him to life. We know how the story ends, and that is what gives us hope.
1 Thessalonians 4:13 tells us that as Christians, we do not mourn as those without hope. Our hope is in the response Jesus gave to Martha while her brother was yet in the grave. “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” (John 11:25).
Hope when it hurts the most…
That is the hope in the midst of all of our frustration and grief, our questions without answers, even sometimes our anger and overwhelming sadness and disappointment. Mary and Martha had four sucky days. Some of us have four sucky weeks, months, years, or decades. It’s my little grandson wandering through the living room at his grandparents’ house and wondering why Papa George is not sitting in his spot on the couch watching the Gators play football. “Oh, that’s right. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. I miss him. I’m afraid, and I wonder who will die next. It sucks, and I don’t understand…”
For every “Lord, if you had been here”
There is an “I’m the resurrection and the life.”
And when it hurts the most and it sucks the worst and we don’t understand and can’t stop crying, there’s always a “Jesus wept…”
In the Cool of the Day... 