People The Light Shines Through

People the Light Shines Through

John 11:32-44

One day a man was walking through a beautiful church building with his 4-year-old son.

As they walked, the young boy looked around.

He stopped and was curious about the stained-glass windows that looked so beautiful with their bright colors.

As he looked at the windows, he asked: “Who are all these people in the windows, daddy?”

“They are the saints,” said the father.

“What are saints, daddy?”

The father was stuck.

How was he going to explain who saints are to a 4-year-old boy?

As the boy was still looking up at the windows and the father was still wondering how he would explain who saints are, the young boy shouted out: “I know who saints are, daddy.

They are people that the light shines through.”

(pause)

My dad was far from perfect, but he was someone through whom the light of Christ shined through.

My father had three young children.

He worked all week and had little time to himself.

On Sunday mornings, he would take an hour or so for himself while my mother rushed my sisters and me off to Sunday school.

Later, my dad would join us all in worship.

One Sunday, when I was about 5 years old, I asked: “Why do I have to go to Sunday school?

Dad doesn’t go.”

From that day on, my dad went to Sunday school.

My dad passed away 8 years ago.

And even though he is physically gone from this earth, I still feel him with me—cheering me on as he always did—through Jesus Christ, the Resurrection and the Life.

(pause)

There is no getting around it: Death is horrible and ugly.

But because of Jesus Christ, it is not the end.

Here on All Saints Sunday, we are looking at an extraordinary passage of Scripture.

For in this Scripture, we come upon a man weeping.

And this man is none other than the Son of God Himself.

He is the One through Whom and for Whom this entire universe was created.

He is the Word made flesh.

He is God.

And He is weeping for us and with us because He is confronted with the utter hopelessness of our human condition.

His compassion is so great that to see us in this lost state is almost too much for Him to bear.

We weren’t created to die.

We weren’t created to live outside a relationship with God.

We weren’t created for darkness, brokenness and lostness...

…life with no meaning…

…a future without hope…

…death, chaos, despair.

Every day there are more and more shootings.

Every moment a young person takes their first hit of a drug that will ultimately destroy their life.

People are spewing hatred toward people of other races and ethnicities.

Every day the suicide rate climbs.

And so, Jesus weeps.

Love Incarnate breaks down outside our tombs.

God so loves the world that God shares our pain.

Mary, Martha and Lazarus were Jesus’ best friends.

Their house was a home away from home for Jesus.

He ate dinner there.

He relaxed.

He laughed.

He shared life.

And when Lazarus became sick, Mary and Martha sent for Jesus.

But no matter how hard it must have been for Jesus to do—in order that they might be brought the gift of faith—Jesus waited until Lazarus died to set out for Bethany.

Martha is the first to meet up with Jesus when He arrives.

“If you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Jesus says to her, “Your brother will rise again.”

To which she answers, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Jesus says to her, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

The resurrection isn’t just a future fact.

It’s a Person, and He is standing in front of Martha.

And He comes, and He stands in front of you and me.

When Jesus told Martha: “I am the resurrection and the life.

The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.”

He finishes with a question that every one of us must answer for ourselves: “Do you believe this?”

And how we answer that question will change our lives.

If we answer in the affirmative, it won’t make us perfect, but it should transform us so that we, too, may become: “People whom the light shines through.”

The late Fred Craddock told a story about visiting his father, who was dying of throat cancer in a hospital in Nashville.

When he got there, his dad was taking a nap, so he started looking at the flowers, the cards from Sunday school classes, church circles, the Youth Group, the Choir—just about every group you can think of in a church had remembered his daddy.