The Compassion of Your Savior
John 11:31-32
31 When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there. 32 When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."
We’ve heard the story so many times before. Jesus preferred to stay in the area where He was, which was in the area where John the Baptist had been, rather than returning to the area of Bethany where His friend Lazarus lay sick and dying. Why did He wait? What was so important?
Many commentators, scholars, and pastors have offered their learned opinions and conjectures and, many times, when I read them, they cause me more confusion rather than clarification. So what do I do think about what might have taken place.
What was going on, what was so important, to make Him stay there, near the Jordan? What were the reasons?
Well, the disciples, for the most part, are country people. I’m a country person, maybe I can think along their level if God will let me ascend to that level.
I’m going to read you a story that God laid on my heart. A story that is, for the most part, fiction. You’ll recognize those parts that are fiction and those parts that are non-fiction. It’s a story about a family. A father, and his three sons. The mother had died 10 years ago when she gave birth to the last son Azariah. They lived about three miles from the Jordan River.
It’s called:
The Healer
A man running breakneck through our small village had told us of His coming, or rather being at the Jordan River. My father, a common laborer, was carrying wood to the metalsmith’s shop when he heard the man. It didn’t take much to convince my father that God was at work in his family. And, something in him, he later told me, convinced him strongly to send his two youngest sons to an unknown man, a healing man, over by the Jordan River.
You see, I’m the second of three sons. My oldest brother Jotham works in the metalsmith’s shop to help support the family. I also have a younger brother, named Azariah; He had been crippled since his birth. The birth from which my mother never recovered.
So, since my father and Jotham were expected to continue in their work to support the family, the biggest responsibility our family had ever known or ever would know was literally laid on the back of a young 14 year old boy.
I remember the conversation to this day. My father found Azariah and myself sitting in the shade of the sycamore tree. I was reciting to Azariah the story of how our people had wandered in the desert, and how they didn’t go hungry because God provided manna every morning for the people to gather and cook.
In your language, manna literally means, “what is it?”
Azariah, always the prankster, kept saying, “What? What is it?”
And, I would say, of course in Hebrew, manna or “What is it?”
That went on for a few minutes until I finally figured out that he was joking with me.
I always loved his jokes. In a world that was limited to just a few cubits, or the length that he could crawl, he was always happy. Azariah was the strength of our family. God always finds strength in the weakest, to support the many failings of the strongest.
My father had watched this banter of words between Azariah and myself, and we knew he was there because of his loud laughter.Azariah and I looked up to see him there, the sweat dropping silently off his smiling face.
Azariah was the first to speak, “Father! Lazar was teaching me about the manna. Isn’t God our great provider? Isn’t He our great help?”
Father didn’t stop smiling. He shook his head, “Yes, little Azariah.” Then, suddenly his smile disappeared and he became very solemn.
He looked at me, motioned with his hand, and said, “Lazar, I need to speak with you.”
I jumped up quickly and ran the short distance between us wondering what the matter was. Our father had always been so open with us, yet now it seemed as if he wanted to hide something from Azariah.
I stopped abruptly in front of him, and before I could speak, my father held his finger against his lips to silence any questions I might have.
In a low voice, he asked, “Did you hear the messenger that ran through the streets a few minutes ago?”
“Yes.” I replied. I was truthful, because, yes I had heard since our village is so small and quiet and the messenger was so loud that he caused even the dogs to bark.“Did you hear what he said?” my father asked.
I stumbled in thought, wondering where was my father going with these questions. “Yes,” I replied. “The messenger said a man was over by the Jordan healing people.”
My father looked me in the eyes, “Lazar,” he said. “When I was carrying the wood this morning, God told me that Azariah would be healed.”
My heart jumped at the news. I started to shout, then thought better of it and said in a low, questioning voice “Healed?” I asked.
Then I immediately thought to myself, “What a wonder! Why, if he were healed we could travel to Jerusalem during the high holy days. We could visit my mother’s tomb. We could play, go fishing, look for bugs, the possibilities were endless.”
My father could read my dancing eyes. He asked, “Are you now thinking of yourself or are you thinking of Azariah?”
I was ashamed. Yes, all of my thoughts had been of me and the never-ending work that is associated with having a crippled 10 year old boy in the house. I hung my head in shame.
My father took and held my head in his hands and pulled me closer to his chest. “Do not feel ashamed Lazar.” He told me. “We have all thought your thoughts. We have all thought about a life where everyone is able to walk and play, and yes, even go and visit your mother’s tomb.”
He brought my head up, cupping my chin in his calloused hands and our eyes met. We stood there, looking at each other, speaking volumes with our eyes. Then, as if on cue, our eyes began to moisten, and one small tear formed in the corner of his left eye, and one formed in mine.
“You are a good brother to Azariah.” He said. “He looks up to you and follows you as if you were his father.”
“What?” I thought to myself. I didn’t know where my father was going with this, so I opened my mouth to ask, but he brought his finger gently to my lips.
He said, “Tomorrow, you will be his father. Tomorrow, you will be his support, his care, and his help in time of need.”
My eyes widened in amazement. I thought, “Is my father going to die? Is my father, Azariah’s father, going to run away?”
He reassured me, “Calm your thoughts, Lazar.” He said. “Tomorrow, before the sun rises, you and Azariah will go the three miles to the Jordan and see this healer.”
“Three miles!” I thought to myself. “Three miles with Azariah on my back? Is such a thing possible?”
As if reading my thoughts, my father looked me in the eyes and said simply, “All things are possible with God. Do you believe this?”
“I do believe this.” I said. “Then, go back to Azariah and continue your teaching. Tell him we talked about your participation in the upcoming village feast. Make it sound like it was all about you. He needs a good night’s rest for tomorrow.”
“He needs a good night’s rest,” I thought, “this will keep me up all night.”
These were the thoughts that replayed themselves in my mine. These were the thoughts that I had in my head as I stood in line to see the healer. You see, I had carried Azariah to the teacher, but by the time we got there, some eight hours later, the line was long, the day was long, and Azariah was sick from the long journey.
These were the thoughts that I had in my head, when I turned my attention back to the line. A line mostly full of selfish people. Why, only about 1 in 10 people had something really wrong with them. How dare they take up this man’s time with trivial maladies that could be cured by their mother or their grandmother, or the local physician! Some of these people had money, lots of possession. Couldn’t they sell an ox and afford a cure from the city?
The line moved again. Every time the line moved, which seemed like an eternity or at least only every thirty minutes or so, I had to pick up my brother and carry him a few feet and put him down. He was dirty and dusty. I was dusty, thirsty and tired. My back still hurt from carrying Azariah. The blisters on my hands would take two weeks to heal. The sun was midway in the sky and it was hot. But, the words that my father spoke to me yesterday kept coming back, “Tomorrow, you will be his father.”
I looked down at Azariah and thought to myself, “Today, I am your father. I’ve carried you to this man because you deserve to be healed. Not because I want you to be able to take care of yourself, but because you have determined in your faith, in your heart, and in your mind to bring joy to others, even though you are crippled. Such a heart as that deserves strong legs to carry your joy to other people, to other villages. Today, I would be glad to call you my son.”
The line moved again. The people in the line that had assembled hadn’t heard the Healer’s name. I hadn’t heard his name, either. I didn’t know what I was supposed to call the healer when I got up there. Some had said Rabbi, others had said, Master, one had said Teacher, and still others had simply called him the healer. Many of them, well, they, we..simply knew that He had come to help the afflicted, the blind, and the deaf.
I took a small pack off my shoulder. Azariah had carried it while I carried him. Our father had given it to us with some bread. We knew what it was for. It wasn’t for us to eat, it was for payment to see the teacher, the healer over by the Jordan. But, Azariah needed something to keep him going. He needed some nourishment, so I opened the pack.
Azariah looked up at me, noticing that I had put my hand in the pack. He smiled at me, “I’m not hungry.” He said. “Besides, think of the teacher and the long day He has had with this crowd of people.”
I nodded my head and thought, “Little Azariah, always thinking of others first.”
I remember the line, the glaring sun, and even some of the conversations as if it was yesterday. And, as we came closer, an excitement seemed to pick up in the conversations of those close to the Healer. I still couldn’t see around the line, and I definitely didn’t want to step out and lose our place. These people...well, they were not very nice.
The people knew Him only as the one that brought healing for the sick, the one that brought sight for the blind, the one that brought hearing for the deaf, and for those that were not in their right mind...well, some said he would make it right.
The line moved again, and I noticed a small group of people standing about 20 to 30 steps away from the front of the line. I don’t know why I didn’t notice them before. They looked important. They had fine clothes, priestly looking clothes and hats. A man stood in the middle of the group looking toward the front of the line. He seemed to be talking, and everyone else was shaking and nodding their heads. I could only guess that they were from some religious group, maybe the local synagogue.
Just then fear overtook me, “What if the local synagogue insists on some sort of tax, or tithe?” I thought to myself. “What if I have to pay with a temple coin?”
I looked down at Azariah and remembered my father’s words, “All things are possible with God. Do you believe this?”I nodded my head, just like I did yesterday and thought to myself, “I believe it.”
My daydreaming was suddently interrupted.“The Rabbi has asked that you come forward.”
I blinked my eyes and there before me stood a very big man with a beard, a smile and a very rugged, but nice voice.
He said it again, and I could sense the peace and the patience in his voice, “The Rabbi has asked that you come forward.”
I was not used to such a privilege so I wanted to be sure he meant me and Azariah. “I am sorry, sir. But, are you talking to my brother and I.”
He shook his head. “No, young man.” He said. “The Rabbi was insistent that only you come forward.”
“But what about my brother?” I asked.
The big man smiled, “I will keep him company. Besides, he looks like he needs a bite to eat and some water.”
And, then, much to my amazement, this big man sat down on the dirty ground and opened a pack and pulled out some bread. He unslung a water skin from his shoulder and offered it to Azariah. Then, he looked up at me. “Are you still here?” he asked. “Run along.” he said, seemingly pretending to sound impatient. “The teacher is waiting.”
I nodded, still slightly dazed and turned and headed back to the front of the line. As I walked to the front passing 15 to 20 people, I thought about Israel, and all about the names that we so proudly cling to, yet I didn’t even know this man’s name.
As I neared the front of the line, I noticed faces were turning and watching me. People were whispering while my fear was growing.
At the head of the line, I saw a small group of men standing there. About 10 or 12 of them were there. I still couldn’t see the healer.
Then, as a man turned and walked away, I saw Him. I saw the teacher. The man had hiden him from my view, but now I could see the teacher. He was smiling, but He hadn’t look my way, yet.
My heart skipped a beat, but my fear did an odd thing. It completely left me. I was filled with an immeasurable joy. I began to run the last 15 steps.
“My brother will be healed today.” I thought. That fact loomed at the forefront of my mind and I knew it was not said as a prayer, but today it would be a fact.
I stopped suddenly. A tremendous wave of reassurance came over me and I looked back to the spot where my brother and the big man was supposed to be sitting. Instead, I saw my brother and the big man standing and waving at me.
I turned back and ran. And as I began to run, I noticed the Rabbi opening His arms. I didn’t stop I just ran right into those arms because I knew that’s where I needed to be.
He hugged me and kissed my head.“All things are possible with God.” he said. “Do you believe this?”
I started sobbing, “YES.” I said between sobs. I felt Him pat my back affectionately.
“You are a fine father today, Lazar.” He said. Then, He pushed me to His arm’s length and held my shoulders staring into my heart.“I’ve waited an extra day for you, and, you’ve been very diligent and brave.” He said. “But now, I have to go and take care of a special friend.”
Just then I remembered the pack and knew I had left it back with my brother. I started to wriggle free from His grip, but He prevented me from moving.
"Keep the bread, Lazar. You’ll need that for the trip back.” He said. “Besides, we have plenty to keep us satisfied.”
I finally found words to say, “Thank you, sir.” Then I said something very strange, even to me. “Can I come with….you?”
The Rabbi smiled a wonderful smile, “You are indeed going to be a fine man. But, right now, your brother needs you. Your father needs your faithfulness and love to keep him going.”
“What do I call you?” I asked. “I don’t even have your name to give to my father when he asks.”
“What does your brother’s name mean?” he asked.
“Azariah means ‘whom Jehovah helps.’” I replied, proudly sticking out my chest.
“And, did that happen today?” he asked.
I nodded yes.
“And what does your name, Lazar, mean?”
“God is my help.” I answered quickly. I could see the men around him nodding their approval of my knowledge.
“And, who has helped you and healed your brother today?”
“God.” I responded.
The man nodded with a smile and a wink. “That’s right…” he said. “Now, you need to get going. It’s only going to take you an hour to get back, but it’s going to be dark in a little while.”
Then He took my hands in His and held them. The pain from my blistered hands disappeared. He then released them, but I didn’t look. I knew what had happened, and I began to cry again.
I thanked the healer and turned and ran back to my brother. I expected Azariah to be bubbling over with joy and excitement about his healing, but he was calm and composed. And, he didn’t say a word about the tears running down my face.
“I’m ready to walk home.” He said.
“Me, too.” I answered. Then I turned and waved at the healer as I thought to myself, “He waited for me and Azariah.”
Then I did something that felt strange at first, I thought toward Him. I mean, I talked to Him in my thoughts. I prayed to Him personally, saying, “You knew I was coming and you waited an extra day.”
As the healer waved back at me, he nodded His head and I knew he knew what I was thinking. I then realized what His name truly is: Emmanuel; God, Jehovah, with us today helped my family to be whole again.
The End...
This was a fictional story. But, whatever the reason was that compelled Jesus to stay near the Jordan River and not go on to Bethany to see his dying friend, I’m sure that it was a good reason. Maybe it was to help someone like Lazar and Azariah. Whatever it was, it is comparable to him choosing one more day, one more week, or year or twenty to wait until you could be saved, until you could be brought into the fold of God.
Do you believe this?
Reasons and purposes, these things always perplex, confuse, and confound as we now only see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then, someday, we shall see face to face. Now we know in part; then, someday, we shall know fully, even as we are fully known by Him now. That day is coming soon. I can only say: “I’m coming home.”
