Eyes Like Jesus

Eyes of Jesus

In one of her short stories, writer Annie Dillard has a scene in which a family is sadly gathered at a grave to commit a loved one's body to the earth. At one point, the minister reads the familiar words from I Corinthians 15, "Where, O Death, is thy sting?" Upon hearing that, one of the mourners looks up. He scans the sad faces of his family and sees all around him row upon row of headstones in the cemetery. And then he thinks to himself, "Where, O Death, is thy sting? Why, it's just about everywhere, seeing as you asked!"**

The verses I read from the Gospel of John are part of a larger portion of scripture. One very familiar to us. It's the story of Jesus' raising Lazarus. I encourage you to read all 45 verses at your discretion today.

In my Bible, the story is told in three sections. The first 16 verses, titled "The Death of Lazarus," set the stage. A crisis is presented. Martha and Mary plead with Jesus to heal their sick brother, Lazarus. We also find in those verses that Jesus is aware that the events are meant to work for the glory of God. Yet, he stayed where he was for two days.

In the last 7 verses, titled, "Jesus raises Lazarus From the Dead," we get the climatic and glorious conclusion of the story. Lazarus rises from the dead. Like a Hallmark movie, it ends just the way we had hoped.

But it's the middle of the story I am intrigued by this morning. That section carries the heading, "Jesus comforts the Sisters." Primarily, I'm struck by Jesus' reaction to Mary's weeping as she took him to the place where Lazarus lay. When Jesus sees Lazarus' body, John tells us Jesus wept.

Jesus knew Lazarus' story was for God's glory. He also knew how the story would end. Martha had confessed her belief in Jesus as the Christ, the Son of God. So, we have in John's report, a confession of faith and miraculous resurrection. God's divine will is being perfectly filled. But Jesus wept.

We Christians like to be encouragers. After all, we know the end of the story. We want to be uplifting, we want to pour out biblical words of hope. We send greeting cards with inspiring and poetic expressions of inspiration. And when life is going well for us, it is so easy for us to look positively at the crises in other people's lives. As someone once said, "we are all strong enough to endure the trials of others."

But in reality, the sting of death is all around us. Think of the widow or widower who lost their spouse and is still very much in the grieving process, even years after losing the loved one. Death still stings for them. Parents who bury their children will feel the sting of death for the remainder of their lives.

At the time I wrote this message, the current worldwide death toll from the coronavirus was a little over 18000. By the time you read or see this message, that number may have more than doubled. We've been reminded this week that the sting of death continuously encompasses the globe. It always does, of course. Even during average times, 150,000 people die throughout the world every day. But recently we've been reminded of how great that sting is, in this case, from a single disease.

Many of us have reached a point in our lives where we see acquaintances more frequently than we used to. We do so because we encounter them at the visitations or funerals of family or mutual friends. Who among us does not look into a filled coffin and not feel the pinch of the sting of reality as we recognize that the same fate awaits us all. Birth, someone once said, leads to a terminal condition called life.** To paraphrase Anne Dillard's character, "Where, O Death, is thy sting?" It's just about everywhere, now that we've asked.

When Mary made her way to Jesus, she fell at his feet and said, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." John informs us, "when Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled." When Jesus saw Lazarus, he wept. The Jews said, "See how he loved him."

Jesus knew the promise of the resurrection, but he also understood the reality of death. Perhaps his sorrow was that his friend Lazarus had to physically taste death before realizing new life. Maybe his heart broke in sympathy for the sisters he loved. Whatever the case, mourning did not indicate a lack of faith so much as it represented a manner of dealing with the sting of death.