Reflection on John 18:33-37 and Revelation 1:4b-8

 

Revelation 1:4b-8

4b Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, 5 and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.

 To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood 6 and made us a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 

7 Look! He is coming with the clouds; 

every eye will see him,  

even those who pierced him, 

and all the tribes of the earth will wail on account of him.  

So it is to be. Amen.

 8 “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

John 18:33-37

33 Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” 34 Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” 35 Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” 36 Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom belonged to this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” 37 Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Reflection

There are some days when I feel like I need a king.  I do not know about you, but there are some days when I am just trying to get by, bumping around from one thing to the next, trying to get everything accomplished, and maybe even do a couple of those items on my list pretty well. 

Would it not be nice to have a king that just said, “Do this, and then this, and then just leave the rest alone.  Do not do them.  They are unimportant.  I will make sure there are no repercussions.  I am the king.”  Would it not be nice to have someone who could just make life so clear?  Would it not be nice to not have to worry about so much stuff and have someone just make the decisions for you?  Some days you just get to the point where you just do not have the where-with-all within you, and you just need someone who you can just follow and in whom you can put your trust.  Some days, I think that I could use a really good king.

I am not the only one.  Just the other day a parent of a 14 year old quipped to me, “My 14 year old finally knows everything, which I am super excited about because I have needed a vacation and I have been waiting for someone to come and take care of it all!”  I honestly could not tell if they were being sarcastic or brutally honest.

There are these days when I feel like I really need a king.  It was once said that “Everyone would to prefer to have a king, as long as they are a good one.”  I am right there.  So, that is why the scriptures for Christ the King Sunday really sort of struck me, and even excited me.  John of Patmos, the writer of Revelation, talks about the grace and peace that comes from God on the throne, and from Jesus Christ who he says is, “the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.”

John says that Jesus is the “ruler of the kings of the earth” (Revelation 1:5).  Jesus is the king of kings.  You cannot get any better than that.  And, when I need a king, I want the best.  No second rate dictators for me.  Move over Kim Jong Un, I need someone powerful, who also has my best interest in mind. 

Jesus is my king.  Jesus is my Lord.  Jesus is the only one powerful enough to save me from my mess.  Wait, I never thought just how bad that makes me sound.  Even so, John of Patmos says that Jesus is my king!  I have the best, most powerful king in the world on my side.  As Paul says in Romans, “If God is for us, who is against us?” (Romans 8:31). 

Jesus, you are on my side.  Jesus you are the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords!  You are my king!  Shower my life with some of that divine power!

“You say that I am a king” (John 18:37).

What?  That phrase, right there, singlehandedly is able to stop my celebration dead in its tracks every single time.  What is that about?  Where is that from?

“You say that I am a king” (John 18:37).  That phrase comes right from Jesus’ discussion with the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, while Pilate questions Jesus before sending him to be crucified. 

Pilate asks Jesus if he is the “king of the Jews” (John 18:33).  Pilate further presses Jesus for some background information, saying, “Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” (John 18:35).  Jesus responds that his kingdom “does not belong to this world,” that it is “not from here” (John 8:36). And, the fact that Jesus seems to have a kingdom makes Pilate wonder then if Jesus is claiming to be a king, claiming a title that might be a threat to Caesar.  Pilate asks, “So you are a king?” (John 8:37).

This is where Jesus issues his statement, “You say that I am a king” (John 18:37).  And, the statement makes us pause because Jesus does not say to Pilate, “Yes, I am the king of kings” like John of Patmos declares.  In fact, Jesus does not talk with Pilate about kingship at all after this, and this saddens me because I so wanted him to describe himself as my vision of what a good king looks like.

So did the people in Jesus’ time.  Many of them expected a king like David, who would charge in, cut down their enemies, reestablish their kingdom on earth like it was in the old days, and they would all be free from oppressors such as the Romans.  They wanted that powerful, political king, who was also gentle with the people, and to whom they could be loyal.

But, Jesus is not that sort of king, not fully anyway.  That is obvious because Jesus does not have an army of devoted men who come swooping in with their swords to start a war in order to save their king.  Nor, does Jesus even want to talk about becoming such a powerful, political king.  Instead, of talking about ruling with power, Jesus talks about “the truth.”

Earlier in the gospel of John Jesus says that he is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).  And in response to Pilate’s claim that Jesus is possibly a king, Jesus says: “I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice” (John 18:37).  And, that makes me think that I have this all wrong.

You see, when I get into a tough spot in life, I want a powerful king who will come and take care of it and fix it.  I want a king who will be at my beckon call.  I want a king who will be vicious to my enemies, taking a knife to the demands of my daily planner, stabbing it to death to save me from its all consuming power and everyone who presses down on me and my time.  I want a powerful, warrior king.  But, I also want a king who is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” to me (Psalm 103:8).  When I am at my wits end, I want a king who I can shape and mold, who will bend to my desires, rather than one who shapes and molds me.

It has been famously said that, "a good king is hard to find, but a good people are harder to find."  I guess that might be true.  We get it wrong all the time.  I get it wrong all the time.

“You say that I am a king” (John 18:37).  Jesus states.  But, Jesus does not want to talk about kings.  That is not what he is all about.  Rather, Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).  We do not follow the king of our choosing.  Rather, we are called to follow the truth.  We are called to follow the Alpha and the Omega, a truth that has always been and always will be.

And, that truth leads us in ways that looks a lot like dying on a cross. 

That truth “loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood” (Revelation 1:5). If the truth is a king, he is a king who looks at the man who tried to overthrow his kingdom, declares him guilty and deserving of punishment, then tells the man to look out the castle window at the chopping block, and then proceeds to go outside himself, taking off his crown, and putting his own head on the chopping block.  This is being the truth.  This is being a true king.  This is being a true servant.

If Jesus is a king, he is not the king we want, but he is the king we need.  He is the king who dies to save us all from ourselves.  That is the king we follow.  That is the truth we follow.     

After-all, there are some days when I feel like I need a king.  But, rather than expecting and demanding Jesus to be the king I want, maybe I can be open to who Jesus actually is.  Maybe, I can seek to be a part of the truth that gives life to the world.  “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice” (John 18:37).

I remember a time that I was completely stressed out in High School.  There were so many demands on me, so much pressure on me, and so little time.  After expressing my frustrations and struggles to my drama teacher, he told me to go to the elementary school and read a book to the first grade kids.  “I can’t handle another thing on my plate,” I said, but he wrote me a pass and sent me and another student over to the elementary school anyway.  The book we read to the kids was, “The Stupids Step Out.”  If you have not read the book, it is really stupid.  And, as we took turns reading the stupid book, talking about the hilariously funny stupid people, and as the tears of laughter fell from the kids faces, and as they climbed up in our laps and gave hugs of thanks, that we would take the time to do this for them, the pressures of life seemed to fade with every smile and every hug.”

“Do you feel better?” my drama teacher asked.  I said “Yes” and told him about the experience.  Then my teacher, who also happened to be a fellow Christian at my church, said to me, “I once heard that it is better to serve than to be served.  I think it is true.  Sometimes serving will do wonders for your life.”  It was true.

Sometimes, we do not need Jesus to be to king we want.  Sometimes, what we need is to follow the servant king that we have: “The way, the truth, and the life.”  He is the one who brings life, and he does it by serving and saving and loving.  Those first graders craved that simple act of love, joy, and service.  And, little did I know, I actually needed to be a servant of love, joy, and service.  Sometimes I need a king.  And, all of the time, I pray that the one I have will be the servant king, Jesus.

Reflection on Mark 13:1-8

Mark 13:1-8 (NRSV)

1 As [Jesus] came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” 2 Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

 3 When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, 4 “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” 5 Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. 6 Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. 7 When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. 8 For nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.”

Reflection

Births are wonderful: the baby’s first cry ringing out, assuring everyone that everything is just fine; the warmth of the baby on the mother’s chest, an assurance that all is right and well in the world once again; the tears of joy that stream down after the intense anxiety and fear and struggle is finally over.  Births are wonderful. 

I think that Jesus is tugging at us to imagine the birth of the new creation when he talks about the “beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8).  Sure, there is nothing great about the “birth pangs” themselves, but the very fact that he brought it up means that he wants our souls to crave what could be, or more to the point, what will be as God’s kingdom arrives.   The new creation is wonderful.  God’s presence with us and in us and through us is wonderful.  Births are wonderful. 

Do you know what is not so wonderful?  Pregnancy.  Take it straight out of the mouth of someone who has never experienced pregnancy firsthand; pregnancies can feel like the end of the world.  “Pastor Jira, you don’t even know the half of it,” you might be saying.  And, you would be right.  But, the half I do know looks like Armageddon. 

Throwing up for a month straight…or more?  Sign me up!  Worrying through sleepless nights, and tears streaming down your face concerning the state of the world that you are choosing to deliver this child into?  Bring it on.  Changes in your body that hurt and make you feel ugly.  No worries, I have always embraced ugliness.  And, the pain; the unimaginable pain!  You are right.  I cannot imagine it. 

Even though I will never experience it myself I still think that it is safe to say that births feel like the beginning of something new and wonderful, but pregnancies feel worse than the end.  “If only the end would come!”

Though I have not experienced the pain and struggle of pregnancy myself, I have an almost daily experience with people’s other pains and struggles.  Just the other day I heard a child express to me the Biblical fear of “wars and rumors of wars,” as she talked about how she runs into her room and closes the door while her mom and dad wage war with one another (Mark 13:7).  “Will they get divorced?” she wonders.  “Will my life fall apart?” she questions.  Young children cannot stop marital wars, no matter how perfect she tries to be around her parents.  No matter what she does, words will be lobbed and anger shot across the room, grazing her very heart, tearing it open.  The pregnancy that must be endured before the new life comes can be brutal.

Jesus taught his disciples that there will be “wars and rumors of wars.”  Jesus never promises that we will not feel pain, nor did he promise that we will never suffer.  But, what Jesus does promise is a new birth after the pain.  “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8).

“Do you and grandpa still love each other,” the boy asked his father just a week ago. 

“Of course we do,” the father told his son, but the fact was that the father did not actually know. 

The politics of the nation had seeped insidiously into his relationship with his dad, and as a result, the family had become divided.  “Kingdom against kingdom” started waging war in conversations at the Sunday family meal (Mark 13:8).  One night the political war had become so bad that the desert had been forgotten entirely.  You know it is bad when warm, homemade vanilla pudding has been forgotten on the stove.  It had been weeks since the last family meal, and the father did not know if the war was over.

Jesus taught his disciples that “nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom” (Mark 13:8).  Even further is this scripture, Jesus teaches that families will be divided and will turn against each other (Mark 13:12).  Jesus never promises that our world, or even our families, will be at peace.  But, what Jesus does promise is a new birth after the division. “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8).

And, there may not be a famine in the land, but right in our own county we have a significant amount of people who are at risk of not having enough food.  Did you know that more than 6,000 people in Bradford County, that is 1 out of every 10 people in this very county, is food insecure.  One out of every 10 people that you encounter on any given day has not had enough to eat, or has not been able to eat healthily.  It is a famine hidden within plain sight, hidden under faces of pride and embarrassment.  And, this is happening within a nation of plenty.  We have not even talked about the famines that starve the bodies and souls of people in nations of scarcity and the starvation, stemming from the horrors of natural disasters and wars.

Jesus taught his disciples that “there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines” (Mark 13:8).  Jesus never promises that the land will provide abundantly, nor does Jesus promise that that the people will share.

In fact, the Bible teaches us the exact opposite.  After Adam and Eve fail to trust God in the garden, and choose to trust in themselves instead of God, God says that the consequences will be that “in pain” women “shall bring forth children,” and also “cursed is the ground” because of Adam’s failure for; “in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life” (Genesis 3:16-17). 

And, we are no better at trusting God today than we were at the very start of creation.  Even today, when either our personal worlds and the greater world seems to be falling apart, rather than trusting in God, we either trust in our own ability to “fix things,” or we are susceptible to those who arise around us, promising to fix all that is broken.

Jesus warns us: “Beware that no one leads you astray.  Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray” (Mark 13:5-6).  So many people promise that they are the Messiah, even without outright saying it.  So many people seek our devotion and loyalty, promising to save us from out crumbling world.  They are not wrong when they point to the stones of this world being thrown down.  They are not wrong when they point to the sufferings of the people.  But, they cannot save us.  They will suck us dry of our devotion and loyalty, a devotion and loyalty that belongs to God alone.

“Let me take your $50.  I promise to make it grow.  You will see!” the new boyfriend said to the young mother.

“But, I need it to buy formula.  That stuff is not cheap,” she pleaded as she watched the money slip into his pocket.  Why did she leave it out on the dresser?  How could she be so stupid?

“I got this,” he said with an assuring smile, and went out the door.

That evening, when he came back through the front door she asked about the money.

“I still need to buy formula,” she reminded her boyfriend.

“I didn’t get lucky,” he said simply.  “I’m going to bed.”

“Beware that no one leads you astray.  Many will come,” promising to save (Mark 13:5-6).  But, there is only one who can save.

He is the one who finds us despairing as the stones of our lives tumble to the ground and promises us, “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs” (Mark 13:8).

The old ways are crumbling apart.  Like stones of a once ancient and remarkable temple being thrown down, the old ways are crumbling apart.  And, that crumbling does bring very real suffering that we can see and feel and experience. 

However, that crumbling is not the last word.  The crumbling and suffering is only a part of the pregnancy.  Because we all know that after the morning sickness and suffering, after the birth pangs, after the painful convulsions, and after the skin tearing pain of pushing; there is a new life that is born, and that new life changes everything.

After suffering on the cross and causing the whole world to go dark, Jesus breaks free from the tomb and is pushed out, bringing new life to the world; new life to you.

I hear your suffering.  I hear your pain.  But, it is only “the beginning of the birth pangs.” 

Now you hear this, your pain and suffering is not the end of your story.  The end of your story is Jesus Christ, the one who gave birth to new life.  The end of your story is resurrection.  The end of your story is a whole new story with Jesus leading the way. 

Just as a young couple, who have just given birth, start a whole new life with their child only after the pain of pregnancy and birth, so too do you start a whole new life, as Jesus throws the stones of your old life to the ground, smashing them and crushing them, and then provides for you a new life full of love and grace and truth; a new life!

Does the collapsing of the old walls of your old life hurt?  Of course.  Jesus never promised that it would not.  But, do not give up hope.  It is only “the beginning of the birth pangs.”  Jesus is giving you a new life of hope, love, grace and purpose.  Do not be surprised when the old walls fall.  Your new life with is just beginning.  And this time around, Jesus is leading the way.

Reflection on Mark 12:38-44

Mark 12:38-44

38 As [Jesus] taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces 39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! 40 They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

41 He sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. 43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. 44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

Reflection

They were her last two coins.  The Bible says that the two coins were “all that she had to live on” (Mark 12:44).  After that, what?  Begging?  Death?  Since it was her last two, they might as well go toward something good.  Giving the two coins to the temple meant that they had the potential to help out another poor widow such as herself.  The sound of the two coins thrown into the trumpet-shaped, bronze funnel barely made a sound.  When the rich threw in coins out of their abundance of riches, the clatter would turn heads.  Her offering would not.  No one would notice or remember.  The two dull plunks were her quiet sacrifice.

This widow’s sacrifice reminds me of another widow in the Bible, who was using up the last of her meal and oil to prepare one last meal for her son and herself; as she states in the Bible, “that we may eat it and die” (1 Kings 17:12).  The prophet Elijah asks her to make a small cake that he too may eat.  What is one more person?  It did not matter in the end.  They would all soon starve.  Why not make your last action one of grace?  No one would notice or remember.  The small gift of food was her quiet sacrifice.

The two widows remind me of the mother who knocked on the door of the church, asking for just five dollars so that she could finish buying food for her two children. 

“What about some food for yourself?” I asked. 

“No, no.  The kids are who I care about.  I can eat in a couple of days,” she said, unconsciously scratching her thin arms.  “I get my paycheck in a couple of days.  I will eat then.  I will be fine.  I have the rest of the money for their food and formula.  Five dollars is all I need, if you could help, please?”

She was giving up her last scrap of money for her children, with little concern for herself.  She was giving it all for the sake of two little, beloved children in God’s creation.  No one but me would notice or remember.  It was her quiet sacrifice.

All around the world, there are such people, making the same sort of quiet sacrifices for others’ sakes.  They will never have poems written about them.  Their names will not be remembered.  Most of them gave their last two coins and baked their last cakes without anyone even noticing.  Yet, their small, quiet sacrifices do cause a ripple of goodness that spreads across the waters of life. 

What is most tragic about the widow who gives her last two coins is that the scribe who counts the coins in the box at the end of that bronze funnel and records the amount, could have noticed her plight and offered her some of the funds.  After-all, God does expect God’s people to remember and help the widow and orphan. 

In Deuteronomy 14:28-29 God instructs that, “Every third year you shall bring out the full tithe of your produce for that year, and store it within your towns; the Levites, because they have no allotment or inheritance with you, as well as the resident aliens, the orphans, and the widows in your towns, may come and eat their fill so that the Lord your God may bless you in all the work that you undertake.”  It is that scribe’s job to make certain that happens.  But, it does not.  She is not noticed.

Jesus tells us that those scribes often have other priorities in life, making them blind to those around.  Do not we all?  Jesus says, that the scribes “like to walk around in long robes and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers” (Mark 12:38-40).  

Widows sell their houses to get money for food, and the scribes happily buy them up; they happily devour their land, all in the name of helping out the needy.  But, where does that leave the widows?  Where are they to live without houses or land?

Jesus once preached, “Blessed are the meek (or the unimportant), for they will inherit the land” (Matthew 5:5).  But, in order for those unimportant widows to inherit the land, or at least get it back, someone would need to notice and care.  And, who would possibly notice the sound of two measly little coins?

Actually, someone is there to notice; someone special, who has the eyes of God.  It is this one who embodies Psalm 68:5:

“Father of orphans and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation” (Psalm 68:5).

It is this one who has memorized the call of Isaiah 1:17:

^“Learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (Isaiah 1:17).

It is this one who will take notice when this specific law of love has been violated: “You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry…” (Exodus 22:22-23).

“I will surely heed their cry.”  The Bible says that someone did notice. 

Hear the word of the Lord: “[Jesus] sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on” (Mark 12:41-44).

Jesus notices what no one else did.  Jesus notices the widow.  Jesus notices both her generosity and her plight.  Jesus notices.  In a world that does not see and even if it did, does not care, Jesus notices and cares.

We cannot remember a single man or woman who dumped in huge amounts of coins out of their abundance in those ancient days.  We have no stories about them.  But, this widow was noticed by Jesus and now lives on the inherited land that makes up the pages of the Bible.  There are an estimated 7.5 billion Bibles in print, and she is in each and every one of them; all because Jesus notices her and cares.

Jesus is the one who leaves 99 sheep in order to find the one.  Jesus notices and cares.

Jesus is the one who notices a man, blind from birth, and allows him to see.  Jesus heals him.  Jesus notices and cares.

Jesus is the one who notices the crippled woman who is bent over and cannot stand straight.  Jesus heals her.  Jesus notices and cares.

And, in a world where all attention is on leaders vying for power, on the rich movers and shakers, on the well paid athletes and their games, and on the famous entertainers and their craft, Jesus notices a woman putting in two coins, worth almost nothing, and declares that she has put in more than anyone else.  Jesus notices and cares.

If that is true, then Jesus notices and cares for you as well.  Jesus notices when you love and it is not reciprocated.  Jesus notices when you have given your all and it still is not considered enough.  Jesus notices when you have tried hard to change, but others still see you as your old self.  Jesus notices and cares.  Jesus not only notices you, he dies to join you in the grave of insignificance, dying a criminal’s death, and he carries you out of that grave of insignificance, and stands you back up as a child of the Most High God.  Jesus notices and raises you each and every time.

Jesus notices you just as he noticed the widow that day as seen in this excerpt from the poem, “The Widow’s Mites” by Brother Roy from New Hope International Ministries:

“…She passed unnoticed by the stream of visitors in God’s house that ancient day, 
But she did not escape the eyes of Savior as he sat unnoticed and out of the way.

The gifts of the richest men in Jerusalem from memory have faded away,
But Jesus intended that the story of the Widow’s mites would be here to stay.

 

Even though her pockets were empty and her clothing was threadbare,
She withheld not a cent, regretting only that she didn’t have more to share.

 

The story of her sacrifice and devotion around this old world has spread,
Inspiring others to help the needy and to see that the hungry are fed…

 

…She moved through the crowd to cast in her two mites and then silently drew apart,
But more than the two mites she left there, for with them she left [Jesus] her heart.”

Reflection on John 11:32-44

 

John 11:32-44

32 When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33 When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. 34 He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus began to weep. 36 So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” 37 But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” 43 When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Reflection

Jesus knew.  Jesus knew that he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead before he even arrived on the scene.  The Bible says that “when Jesus heard [about Lazarus’ illness],” “he stayed two days longer in the place where he was” (John 11:4 and 6).  Jesus knew that what was about to happen would be “for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (John 11:4). He knew that Lazarus would die.  He knew that he would raise him again so that we might all believe.  He knew that those gathered around the tomb would hear his prayer to God and that they would trust in him after they saw.  Jesus knew it all.

Yet…

When Mary runs up, kneels down, and accuses Jesus of being too slow in coming to help her brother, his friend, and when she chides, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died,” Jesus does not defend himself (John 11:32).  Jesus does not say to Mary, “Just calm down woman.  There is nothing to get hysterical about.  Everything is going to be alright.  You will see.”  He says none of those things.  Rather, Jesus lets his dear Mary accuse him to his face.  He lets her break down right in front of him, joining her tears and weeping with the others gathered there.  He does not rebuke her anger, nor does he defend himself against her accusations.

And, it makes me think of the times that I accused the Lord for not getting there in time.  It makes me think of the times that I questioned why there was not healing, but rather there was death.  It makes me think of the times that I broke down, sobbing alone in the car while driving, or weeping in my office with the door closed.  I see my face reflected in Mary’s face as she accuses Jesus, because just as Jesus did not defend himself against her accusations, Jesus also chose not to defend himself against my own.  Jesus chose to simply be there for me, and with me, as I broke apart.  Sometimes, we can do nothing more than be there when someone breaks apart.  Sometimes, simply being there is the best response.

After-all, Jesus knows it all.  He knows how the story ends.  He knew how Lazarus’ story was going to end.

Yet…

When Jesus looks around at the weeping and loud laments, seeing those he loves having their heart torn apart right in front of his eyes, the Bible says Jesus is “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved” (John 11:33).  That is what my Bible says anyway, but those who hear this story in the Greek language, hear that Jesus is “angrily groaning” in his spirit and his usual calmness has been “deeply disturbed” making him “restless.”  Somehow, the death of his friend and the emotional toll that it is taking on all of those he loves completely unsettles Jesus, making him strangely angry and deeply restless. 

And, it makes me think of all of the times, while grieving, that I have become angry at God, and the world, and the slow driver who goes 25 mph in a 40 mph down the golden mile.  Who does that? Do they not know there are people grieving out here?  Speed up!  Are you trying to make us mad? 

Jesus’ angry groans make me think of my shouts to the sky and fists to the air in utter frustration at the senselessness of it all.  Death is senseless.  Death it just takes, and takes, and takes, and does not give.  And, Jesus’ restlessness makes me think of the nights of tossing and turning, unable to find some peace.  And, it makes me think, Jesus gets it.  God gets it.  Jesus is right there, punching his fists into the air out of anger and despair with me.  Knowing the end does not make it any easier.  Jesus knows the end, but it does not make it any easier.  He gets it. 

That is right; Jesus knows the end of the story.  Jesus knows what he is going to do.

Yet…

When Jesus asks, “Where have you laid him?” searching for Lazarus’ resting place, they respond, “Lord, come and see” (John 11:34).  It is so weird.  He hears his own words coming right back at him.  “Come and see.”  These were the words he used to beckon his followers.  These were the words he used to convince people who were lost, searching for life, and light, and truth, to follow him and find that life, light, and truth.  “Come and see.” 

And, now the words are being used to beckon him toward death.  “Come and see pain.” “Come and see decay.”  “Come and see death.”  “Come and see.”  Was all of the beckoning and preaching and convincing all for nothing?  Lazarus cannot come and see anymore!  What good did the coming and seeing do him?

And, it was all too much.  “Jesus began to weep” (John 11:35).  Actual tears run down his face, even though he knows the end of the story.

And, it makes me think that the tears are OK.  The tears that still fill my eyes, years after the death, are fine and good.  It convinces me that the tears are not a sign of weakness, but are rather an expression of love made liquid.  Liquid love ran down Jesus’ face and soaked the ground just as liquid love would pour out of his side and water the earth when Jesus is pierced with a spear after his own death on the cross.  There is something healing about that liquid love that he pours on the world.  And, there is something healing about our tears.  They are a gift.  Notice, that it is only after the tears fall that Jesus is finally ready to do what he knew he was going to do all along.

And, let us not gloss over that too quickly.  It was only after the accusations, and the confusion, and the anger, and the energy draining restlessness, and the all important tears that Jesus is then ready to bring the new life; the resurrection.  All of that stuff had to come first, both for himself, and for those around.

So, if you are still there; if you are still in the accusations, and the confusion, and the anger, and the restlessness and are still consumed by the tears, if you are still in that sort of place, that is fine.  You are exactly where you are supposed to be.  Jesus has been there.  God understands.  And, Jesus’ Spirit is right there with you through it all, taking it all, and holding you through it all.  Jesus will not abandon you in any of it, because he knows the end of the story.

38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” 43 When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” 

(John 11:38-44).

May you too be resurrected from your grief.  May you too be unbound and set free to live your life.  May you too find hope in Jesus’ promise of resurrection; even as you grieve the loss of those who now feast at the heavenly party that has no end, with Jesus Christ, our risen Lord.