Grieving with Hope (John 11)
Here’s my Easter sermon, given this past Sunday online. You can find the video and audio here.
One of my favorite TV shows of all time is Seinfeld. I pretty much have every episode memorized. In one episode, the main character, Jerry - who goes through relationships almost weekly - begins to feel feelings thanks to one girlfriend. Well, she ends up breaking up with him. And, as he processes that with his friend, Elaine, he puts his hands to his eyes. He feels the tears coming out. And Jerry says to her, “What is this salty discharge?” He finds himself crying for what seems like the first time. And he lets the tears flow. But he’s confused.
Friends, we’ve been pushing back grief in our culture for a long time. But today’s circumstances have made that so hard. Haven’t they? A couple of weeks ago, an article was published in the Harvard Business Review entitled “That Discomfort You’re Feeling Is Grief.” It’s an interview with grief expert David Kessler. He talks about what Americans are feeling right now - something they’ve maybe not felt or acknowledged in awhile. Grieving the fact that things have changed. Grieving “the loss of normalcy; the fear of economic toll; the loss of connection.” But also grieving - and most of all - what might be ahead. He talks about “anticipatory grief” - this “feeling we get about what the future holds when we’re uncertain.” As Dr. Regina Koepp puts it, “We’re in the process of grieving before we actually lose the thing.” It’s a paralyzing mixture of anxiety and sorrow. We or someone we know and love may die. Kessler says it disrupts our sense of safety. We’re feeling that kind of grief so much in our nation right now.
But here’s the question I want you to consider this morning. Why don’t we feel this more often? Why is this crisis bringing it to the front of our consciousness? Why do we try to fight against grief? I think it’s because - whether we call ourselves Christians or not - we don’t want to think about dying. And why’s that? Because, we don’t have hope. We don’t have assurance that there’s anything - or anything good - beyond the grave. So we push it back.
Well, today, I want to encourage us not to do that. Let’s allow those tears to flow. Let’s grieve. It’s unnatural, in fact, not to do so. But let’s do it with perspective. Let’s do it with the promises of John 11 in view.
He is the Resurrection
In this well-known and quite amazing chapter in John’s gospel, we see Jesus hearing about the death of a friend - although He no doubt already knew. Lazarus is his name. And his two sisters, Mary and Martha, come to Jesus and tell him, in verse 3, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” This is someone Christ cares deeply about. But strangely, Jesus doesn’t rush to his friend and heal him. He waits. In fact, He sticks around two more days right where He is. Jesus says, in verse 4, that this will end well. And it will end well so that God gets glory.
But then, the Lord does decide to go. He goes not just to heal him from his sickness - but raise him from the dead. He at first talks cryptically to His disciples - about going to wake Lazarus up. But He then tells them of His true plans - to resurrect their friend from the dead. And He tells them, in verse 15, that He’s done all of this that they might believe.
When they arrive, verse 17 tells us that Lazarus has been in the tomb for four days. Many friends and family are there mourning. Martha first, and Mary second, both come independently and say, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” They’re torn up. They can’t understand. To Martha, Jesus tells her that her brother will rise again. That resurrection life is found in Him. To Mary, Christ’s emotions overcome Him. And he says very little. We’ll focus on both of these responses here in a few minutes this morning.
As the crowd wonders out loud the same thing - “Why didn’t He just save him?” - Jesus tells them to remove the stone from the tomb. They all cringe, anticipating the stench. But He calmly lifts up His eyes to heaven and prays. And notice: He doesn’t pray for Lazarus to be healed. He prays for the faith of those gathered around Him. And He commands Lazarus to come out of that grave. And His friend does. They remove all the grave clothes. He’s alive.
Now before we get two my two main points this morning, there are three things that we first learn about Jesus from this chapter. First, there is no doubt that Christ’s love for these three siblings is strong. John says this. Jesus demonstrates this. Second, the Lord’s main prayer is that they would believe. In who He is. And what He can do. That’s what He wants so much. Third, Jesus’s ultimate concern, though, is that this sign - and all He does - will bring glory to God. Each of those three things is emphasized more than once in this story.
Now, I’ll get back to those before we wrap up. I will. There is so much that could be said about John chapter 11. It could be a whole series of sermons. But today on this Easter day, in the midst of this pandemic, I just want to draw your attention to two main things. One thing Jesus does. And one thing He says.
Jesus Wept
Now it’s possible you know my first point - even if you’ve never read this passage. Maybe you’ve heard of the shortest verse in the Bible. Right? Here’s something Jesus does. What is it? “Jesus wept.” We see Jesus do this in verse 35. He’s overcome with emotion. The people gathered say, “See how He loved him,” in verse 36. And they wonder, in verse 37, “Why’s He crying if He could have just healed him like everyone else?” And that’s the question I want us to think about for a few minutes today. Why would Jesus weep?
Well, we see here Jesus the man. Remember, He is God who puts skin on. And moves into our neighborhood. He puts on a body like ours. But, we don’t just see Him with flesh like ours - but also with our feelings. True, they’re perfect feelings. Unlike ours. But they’re still emotions. And they instruct us - and comfort us - so much.
Why’s Jesus crying? Well, things are not as they’re supposed to be. And, even though He knows, in just a few moments, His friend will be alive, He still grieves. No matter how many counselors - or funeral directors - tell you death is natural, it’s not. It’s highly unnatural. It may be what we experience in our world here and now. As frail human beings. As fallen human beings. But it’s not the way things were meant to be. And it’s not something to ignore. Or suppress. It’s something to shed tears over.
But that’s not all. I told you I would point out one thing Jesus does, but bear with me. Look at what it says in verse 33. “He was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled.” We see the same idea - for Jesus being “deeply moved” down in verse 38. Well, what’s going on here? New Testament scholar D.A. Carson says that a much better translation would be that Jesus was “deeply outraged in spirit, and troubled.” Jesus here is sad, but also angry. And again, as He’s about to raise His friend from the dead.
He’s angry at death - and not just for what’s going on in front of Him. But also for what other humans like us would experience. He weeps over what’s caused it - sin. He feels deep emotions over all of this. And hear me: so should we.
Jesus shows us what it looks like to be truly human. He comes as a new, better Adam, to live a perfect life in our place. On our behalf. But He also comes to show us what that perfect life looks like. And that includes emotion. And emotion over the right things.
So hear me. If you look at what’s going on around us now, seeing all the death and destruction - it should make you sad. And even mad. Or something is actually deeply wrong. Grieve here with the man Christ Jesus. Know that He understands. As we weep over more deaths in New York, He “gets it.” He does. When we have to flip the channel, because we can’t hear about more cases in Boone County, He understands. When we’re confused or mad or crying or shouting, He’s been there. He has. And He’s here with us. He is.
Hebrews 4:15 reminds us that “we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” He knows what it is to feel what we feel. If we’ve learned anything through our walk thus far through the Psalms, we should bring our raw, deep feelings to our Lord. He can handle them. He, in fact, understands them. First, Jesus weeps. That’s what He does.
Come Out
Second, here’s something Jesus says. I want to draw your attention to verse 43. After He wraps up His prayer, Jesus cries out - yes, with a lot of emotion, “Lazarus, come out.” And what happens? Lazarus does exactly that. Christ does what everyone around had expected Him to do from the start - heal Lazarus. But He does it even better. He raises Him from the dead. He gives Him new life.
Here we see that Jesus isn’t just man. He’s God. Who in the beginning brought light from darkness? Who spoke life into existence just through His words? The Lord. And that’s what Jesus does here. He doesn’t just share our frailties as humans. That’s comforting, yes! But He is God in the flesh. He is full of power. And He has the power to raise the dead. Even us! And what comfort that brings!
What’s Jesus doing here? Weeping over things that aren’t the way they were meant to be. And yelling into existence what was originally intended for us. Shedding tears over the fall. Shouting redemption into action. Here’s what’s natural, friends. Here was God’s design. For us to live - and bodily - in God’s presence, communing with Him forever and ever. That’s what Jesus is doing for Lazarus - and showing to us - here as He cries out, “Come out!”
He’s calling him - and us - to life in two senses. First, spiritual life. That communion with God we were always intended to have. Lazarus has always been understood as a picture of our salvation. Of God making us “alive together with Christ,” as Ephesians 2:5 puts it. Of Jesus raising us from spiritual death. To have eternal life with Him. Again, that starts now, when we believe. That communion with our Father is restored.
Second, physical life. One day, we’ll experience what Lazarus does here. But it’ll be better for us. Lazarus will have to die twice. It’ll be just once for us. But Jesus will return, He’ll speak words of life. He’ll raise our bodies. And they’ll be fully restored. And that along with the earth being renewed. And we’ll walk with Him and each other in that restored world forever and ever. Spiritual life, resurrection - that starts now. Physical life, resurrection - that starts when He returns - and goes on and on and on forever.
I don’t want you to just see Jesus weeping today. I want you to hear Him calling. Come out!Insert your name here. Come out, Bob. Come out, Jessica. Come out, Mindy. Come out, Jeremy. Experience life with your Father. Run into His arms. Stay there. Today and forever. Spiritually. Physically. Experience resurrection.
But check out what Jesus says here. I know most all of you know who Michael Jordan is - arguably the greatest basketball player of all time. It’s what he did. And he did it well. But imagine you heard him say this. And he probably did at some point.
“I AM basketball. I don’t just play the game. I AM the game.” That’s really what Jesus is saying here. In verses 25 and 26: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet he shall live, and everyone who believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” Resurrection life is found in Him. It’s summed up in Him. He doesn’t just do resurrection. He is resurrection. Want to live as You were intended? Long to overcome the grave? Come to Him. He is resurrection. He is life.
He is God the Creator. Who makes life. The “I Am.” And He is God the Redeemer - who re-creates life. Jesus shows us what God looks like. Who He is. And what He does.
And He comes down to us as a human. And shows us what it really looks like to be a man or a woman. With deep emotions. Real feelings over what matters - life and death.
And as God and man, He bridges that gap. He doesn’t make us climb up a stairway to heaven. He comes down and carries us into His presence. Dying a cruel death in our place. So we can be forgiven. And being raised to show the sacrifice worked. And that we can overcome death in Him, ourselves.
So hear me once again: if you look at everything that’s going on today, it should bring you to tears. Or something’s wrong. But I want to invite you to lift your eyes to hope. To that day when everything’s made right. In that body of yours. In this world around us. And to the reality of having a relationship with God - right here and right now.
I mentioned the Psalms a bit ago. Yes, we see the full range of our emotions in that great book. But we also see David and the other authors turn those tears - and sometimes tantrums - into trust. And that’s where Jesus our Lord is taking us here.
Grieving With Hope
It brings to my mind Paul’s words in 1 Thessalonians 4:13.
1Th. 4:13 But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.
Grieving. But doing it with hope. We’re not talking about a sentimental, sappy way of life, where we ignore the pain all around us. And just sing of the sweet by-and-by. And I’m sure not advocating drowning ourselves in the pain and not seeing the life and peace that are ahead.
We have to grieve as Jesus does here. Truly seeing the way things are and weeping, and even raging. And we have to hope in His resurrection. Really understanding the way things will be - rejoicing, and worshipping. Knowing redemption is coming doesn’t take the tears away - at least right now - but it can transform them. Geerhardus Vos put it this way:
"What the Lord expects from us at such seasons is not to abandon ourselves to unreasoning sorrow, but trustingly to look sorrow in the face, to scan its features, to search for the help and hope, which, as surely as God is our Father, must be there. In such trials there can be no comfort for us so long as we stand outside weeping.
If only we will take the courage to fix our gaze deliberately upon the stern countenance of grief, and enter unafraid into the darkest recesses of our trouble, we shall find the terror gone, because the Lord has been there before us, and, coming out again, has left the place transfigured, making of it by the grace of his resurrection a house of life, the very gate of heaven.” (Geerhardus Vos)
Let us look in the eyes of the one Isaiah 53 calls a “man of sorrows,” one who was “acquainted with grief.” And that later says that “He shall see his offspring” and “shall prolong his days.” There - before His face - we can be real with our emotions and have them transposed into a major key.
Karis, He weeps. But these aren’t the tears of a powerless one, whose love is slipping through His fingers. No. They’re flowing from the face of a conquering King, who will one day wipe away every tear from our eyes.
Moved By Love
Earlier I talked about those three observations from this chapter. Christ’s love for His friends. His desire that they’d believe. His ultimate concern that God be glorified. Why does Jesus wait to go to Bethany? Why does He even let him die? It was out of love. Hear verses 5 and 6 again:
John 11:5 Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. 6 So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
Jesus loved them… SO. So He stayed. It was a loving thing that they learn to trust. And have their lives glorify God. And maybe that’s what we need, as well. On Friday, I was texting back and for with one of our dear brothers - who really has had about everything go wrong the past few months. He was talking about dealing with some horrible pain in his body - on top of it all. And he told me, “I’m praying a lot that this makes me even more dependent upon the Lord.”
This week, on a website called quillette.com, a writer named Bruno Maçães, who’s served as a Secretary of State for Portugal, authored an article entitled, “Conceit and Contagion: How the Virus Shocked Europe.” He writes as a European, saying the problem in Europe hasn’t been as much due to the virus itself. As the way they’ve handled it. It wasn’t an issue of a lack of testing or politicians being slow to make decisions. It was Europeans not taking it seriously. He quotes one Italian writer who said, “I and many other Italians just did not see the need to change our routines for a threat we could not see.” He quotes a hospital director in Madrid saying, “We have sinned from too much confidence.” The author talks about a city in France going ahead and hosting - of all things - a Smurf convention, despite all the warnings. He says it had more to do with conceit than contagion. Thinking well of themselves. And beyond that, poorly of China.
Friends, we’re Americans. And we can be the most conceited of all. I’ve thought numerous times, throughout all of this, “Aren’t we past all of this? How is this happening? In 2020. In America?” But maybe Jesus - just as here with Mary and Martha and Lazarus - has other intentions.
Maybe He’s wanting to humble us, and remind us who gets the glory. Maybe He is working to teach us faith - to look beyond ourselves - as we haven’t been doing - and look to Him for hope. To get low and weep. So He can raise us up. Maybe He’s doing it out of love. Like with the sisters here. Not just wiping it away. In an instant. So they don’t learn faith. But waiting. And teaching. As we pray - and we should pray in this way - Jesus, heal us all, take this all away - we have to remember - maybe Jesus has other purposes for all of this. To point us to Himself, the Resurrection and the Life. Out of love.
Grieving With Hope (and with Jesus)
Well, you’ve probably heard of the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Back to that article I began with - an interview with David Kessler. At one point, he says that “acceptance is where the power lies.” And I think that’s a good start, right? We’re all going to die. Through this virus. Or in some other way. Life is good, but it’s hard. We can’t deny that. We must accept it.
But that’s not enough. And Kessler seems to say that, as well. In fact, he got permission from the original author of those “five stages,” the late Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, to add a sixth stage, meaning. It’s hard to accept something that’s meaningless. There you grieve. And you do it without hope.
But if death is a doorway to the presence of Christ. If there awaits a day of the resurrection of our bodies and the restoration of the earth. If the point of all of this is to drive us to faith in Him - that He might be glorified - and we might experience good - with Him - forever - fully whole in a renewed creation. If all that’s true, there’s meaning. We can still grieve. But we can do it with hope. Like our Lord Jesus. Let us pray.
