“Jesus Wept”
John 11:1-7, 17-44
The Monday or Tuesday following our first-ever online Easter Worship Service, due to the Brand New Covid Pandemic, Justin DeFriese called me as he often did.
The tornado had just torn through parts of Chattanooga.
I remember that I was out on the Red Bank United Methodist Church playground with my son Owen, due to the fact that his Preschool had been shut-down.
Justin had called to check and see if I was alright following the tornado, and then he complimented me on how well he thought I was doing given the present circumstances.
He was an-ada-boy kind of guy.
A real fan of pastors.
I understand he had been like that for every pastor who had served this church, no matter whether the pastor was popular with the congregation or going through a rough patch…
…Justin was always there, encouraging and also giving words of wisdom.
Within a week Justin passed away…
…and because of the Covid Pandemic we--his church family--were never able to gather for a memorial service, to say our good-byes, to mourn together the loss of this great saint we all knew and loved.
The same can be said for Irene Hale who died the day before Justin, and Marie Tilley—that sweet soul, and Susan Nail, Bobbye Shroeder, Ted Bowman, Rose Campbell, Comena Rogers, Frances Anderson, wonderful Dottie Vendur, Sharon Wright who had a muted service due to Covid, Ken Welch who had no memorial service that I know of, Ed Campbell whose service was very private…
Recently, we had a memorial service for Edith Merritt-Emerson who passed in October of 2020.
We had a service for one of the most godly men in the history of the City of Red Bank—Skipper Fairbanks, but even though the sanctuary was nearly full, it was muted, as well, due to the Pandemic and some other awful things which had happened.
Charmaine Layton was memorialized at Lane funeral home over a month ago.
(pause)
I think if we’re honest, we are all in some level of grief right now.
Grief for where we thought we would be in 2020 and 2021.
All around us there has been a profound sense of loss.
Worship attendance, not only at this church, but at every church in the country has been cut in half at best.
Finally, the pandemic is perhaps retreating, but we thought it was gone in July as well.
During this time people have lost family members and friendships.
Some have lost physical health and mental health.
As a pastor, I haven’t been able to do a major part of my job—visiting the sick and shut-ins—since March 12, 2020.
So, what does it mean to respond to this profound grief as a Christian?
In our Gospel Lesson for this morning, we get a picture of what faith looks like in the face of grief and hardship.
But more importantly, we get an invitation to find God with us in our grief.
It’s an invitation to come to God in our frustrations, in our anger, in our sadness, and even in our fear and not be turned away.
This is just weeks before the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus.
Our passage takes place in a suburb of Jerusalem—and at this point Jesus is basically a marked man.
The religious leaders see Jesus as a threat, and have already tried to execute Him because of His teaching.
So, He and the disciples have taken off.
But now Jesus has gotten word that his close friend Lazarus is sick.
The thought of going back to Jerusalem terrifies the disciples and even Jesus waits two days before heading out.
In the time it takes them to get to Lazarus’ family, he has died.
When Jesus comes upon Lazarus’ sisters, Mary, in the midst of her grief, doesn’t try and put on a strong face and pretend everything is okay.
She comes to Jesus directly—“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died,” she says.
Let’s just stop and pause here for a moment.
Do you feel that?
It’s a gut-punching thing to say, right?
And let’s take a look at the answer Jesus gives.
He doesn’t get on her for her lack of faith.
He doesn’t get frustrated with her.
He sees her.
He sees their friends weeping.
And we are told in verse 33 that Jesus was “deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”
He asks them to take Him to Lazarus’ grave—to the very source of their pain and grief and disappointment.
And He goes with them there.
And then comes verse 35: one of the most remarkable verses in all of Scripture: “Jesus wept.”
Even knowing that He is God in the flesh Jesus entered into their grief and pain to grieve with them, joining His grief to theirs.
And I believe that is what Jesus does with each and every one of us to this day.
We don’t have some detached God Who is uninvolved with our lives, our needs, our heartache, our trouble.
We have a God Who actually feels what we feel and is in such solidarity with us that He weeps with us.
Some folks watching Jesus weep commented, “See how he loved him!”
Others scoffed: “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
And so, human beings haven’t changed much in 2,000 years.
We always have the scoffers and we, Lord willing, always have the believers.
Which ones are we?
Look how Jesus answers: “Take away the stone…
…Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?”
Jesus is not just talking about the fact that He is going to raise Lazarus from the dead.
He’s also talking about where the story goes: that in just a few short weeks He will suffer Himself, in Jerusalem.
He will suffer betrayal and abandonment, fear and sorrow, a false arrest and the injustice of a false trial.
He’ll experience beating and mockery and shame, pain and death, grief upon grief.
But through this, the greatest of injustices and tragedies—the glory of God will be revealed, because the absolute depth of His love for us is demonstrated as He goes to the furthest depths of our human experience to free us from our bondage to sin, death and the devil and provide those who will believe with new life.
The Bible tells us that Christ’s suffering is our victory.
Imagine that!
In Jesus’ suffering, He took on the very worst our world and the evil one had to offer; judged it and defeated it!!!
And the invitation to us is to join our suffering to His, to see Him here with us in our difficulties; to know His tears in our tears, to know His pain in our pain, to know His loss and grief in ours and to be set free.
And that is the good news of this passage: this is our story too.
That we, who without Jesus would find ourselves helpless in the face of suffering and death—I, who am shrouded in grave clothes, buried under the weight of my sin and selfishness, might hear the voice of Jesus say: “Ken, come out!”
Try inserting your name there.
Have you heard Jesus calling you from death to life?
Do you hear Jesus calling you to leave the grave of sin and death?
He is, always, He is.
All we need do is respond by coming to Him.
Jesus calls us to new life in Him.
He offers us an awakening of our hearts by His love and in the here and now.
And if we take Him up on His offer, our lives are never the same again.
He promises us, not only new life in the here and now, but the resurrection of our bodies—that our suffering, our sin…
…that the wrongs of this world are not the final word!
And thanks be to God for that!!!
If you don’t experience anything else in this life or do anything else, will you at least come to Him?
His call comes to us just as it did to those saints, those believers who have gone before us.
They may have died, but they are not dead.
Their lives have changed, not ended.
“Come out of the tomb, out of the darkness, out of the evil, out of death.”
Those are Jesus’ Words to Lazarus, to you and to me.
Every time they are spoken I can’t help but believe that the saints who have gone ahead of us grow silent in anticipation, praying, hoping, wondering, waiting, watching, whispering to themselves and each other.
“We she take the next first step?
Will he take the first next first step?”
Will you?
