John 11:1-44

The entire issue of God’s role, or place, in human suffering is succinctly wrapped up by a simple statement uttered by two poor, uneducated sisters in the immediate aftermath of their bother’s untimely death.  As Jesus arrives at their house, they come to greet him at different times, one after the other. And before they can say anything else; before they can use any of those polite words that we try on occasions like this, words that we use to cover over the fact that there are no adequate words … both of these women blurt out the same thing: 

“Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 

The fact that they both repeat this, as if it is some sort of mantra, leads us to think that they probably had talked about this matter extensively over the past two days or so, and this is the conclusion that they had reached… together. After all, word had been sent to Jesus regarding Lazarus’ serious illness in plenty of time for him to have responded had he wanted to. But he never showed up. And now Lazarus was dead. 

We know something that these sisters, Mary and Martha, did not know, and that is that Jesus’ delay in coming to them was, in fact, intentional. He chose to wait two days before leaving for Bethany. And so, in the Jewish way of reckoning time, (in which they counted portions of days as whole days) when Jesus arrives at Lazarus’ home - four days later - he comes across a scene of great grief and anguish. Lazarus is gone. 

Only the very young among us cannot relate – at least to some degree – to this scene. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Been through the valley of the shadow of death – both literally and as a symbol of deepest hurt. There are very few – if any – among us who have not been touched by the cold hand of tragedy of some sort. Death, loss, rejection… plans that seemed so perfect which come crumbling down with no warning, marriages torn apart (either quickly or painfully slowly), times of extreme loneliness, dryness, periods of doubt and uncertainty… I could go on and on, but you know what I mean. 

And in all of these things, again who among us at some point or other has never wondered: “My God, where are you?”  The implication being that if God were here, _______________ would not have happened. 

It is not uncommon for people to shake their fists at God in the midst of tragedy and suffering. And I always point out that God’s shoulders are broad, he can stand emotional honesty from us. The Bible in fact, includes the stories of numerous righteous people who questioned God for what they considered poor management of creation.  Ann, in today’s drama is among good Biblical company! 

You may have read that last fall, a Nebraska State Senator Ernie Chambers has taken his complaints a little further - to court actually. In October 2007, Sen. Chambers sued God for “causing untold death and horror” in the form of “fearsome floods…horrendous hurricanes, [and] terrifying tornadoes.” Furthermore, says the senator, God has wrought “widespread death [and] destruction” and terrorized “millions upon millions of the Earth's inhabitants.” 

Chambers actually filed the suit to make a statement about the American court system. Outraged by a recent lawsuit he considered frivolous, the senator intends to demonstrate that “anybody can file a lawsuit against anybody.” His motion against God, then, is tongue in cheek; Chambers, who does has a history of antagonism against Christians, has no vested interest in his suit against the Almighty. 

Nevertheless, the case raises important questions about God's activity in this broken world, very similar to the question implied in Mary and Martha’s statement. Is God to blame for poverty, warfare, for disease and natural disaster? Chambers seems to think so. To him the facts are clear: there is suffering everywhere, and God is everywhere. Therefore, God must cause suffering.[1]

Or, to put it in terms found in the Lazarus story, if God has the ability to stop suffering at any time and yet chooses not to, then the blame for all suffering lays at God’s feet.

Reconciling the concept of a God of love, a God of kindness who is also described with theological words such as ‘omnipotence’ (all-powerful) and ‘omniscience’ (all- knowing) – reconciling that picture with life as we know it where there is rampant evil, where ‘good’ people often seem to get the short end of the stick, where there is without a doubt injustice, where evil people often prosper (at least outwardly) … this one of the most important issues that we face as human beings. 

How we answer this question – how we come to peace with this issue – will go a long way towards defining the way that we handle ourselves when we are going through these times of testing (which we will). Our inner peace and any confidence we might have for the future is also directly related, I believe, to how much we understand (or what we believe) about the issue of suffering, and God’s place in our pain and the pain of the world. 

I was talking with a friend recently who is a former Coast Guard officer and who still loves to sail. He made an interesting statement – “In sailing you never want to set your anchor in the midst of a storm.”  What he meant by that was that a better time to set an anchor is before a storm begins. The reason being that in calm water you are much more likely for that anchor to ‘set’, to find a solid place to grab onto. In a storm, things are bouncing around and you don’t know where the anchor is going to land. 

In times of trouble and pain, it is likewise difficult to formulate your theology of suffering. Although, typically that’s when many people try to do it. I’ve heard people make all kinds of statements in times of great pain that I was convinced were less than helpful to them, even wrong, but I rarely speak about foundational things to people in these times. You don’t set your anchor in times of storms. 

I’m sure that there are some here whose little lifeboats are being tossed about by great waves and frightening winds even as I speak. What we talk about here today may not be what you want to hear, or are ready to hear right now.  If that’s the case for you, my word to you, friend, is faith. 

The bottom line in all this is, as that old gospel song says, “We’ll understand it better bye and bye.” Trust in that. At least part of the ‘not easy answer’ that we’ll be looking at today is not to try and explain or give a ‘why’ but to say that even when we can’t see it (which, in fact, may be most of the time) that still, there is a why. There is a purpose in our lives. 

We know that by faith, because we know that God is good. Because God is compassionate and merciful. And there is a reason why the world is as it is. And even more importantly - this life is not the last word. There is more to our stories. And I think all of that is illustrated in the account of the raising of Lazarus here in John 11. We’re going to look at this in five steps: 

1. Lazarus is critically ill.
2. Mary and Martha call upon Jesus.
3. Jesus does not come immediately.
4. Jesus arrives and is deeply moved by the pain of the people.
5. Lazarus is raised. 

1. Lazarus is critically ill. – an apt metaphor of life in this age.  The Bible never attempts to deny or diminish the reality of pain and suffering. Certain cults and movements within the Christian church have at times tried to do this – to say that suffering is all ‘in our minds’, that it is not ‘real’, or something of that sort.

Well, Lazarus wasn’t faking it. The Bible’s teaching on this is that brokenness entered God’s perfect creation when its first inhabitants chose their own way over God’s. That rebellion (which we’ve all participated in since then) literally altered the fabric of our world. A place that was once perfect – a place where humans lived in absolute harmony with each other, with nature, and with God became a place where there was suspicion, greed, jealousy and murder. 

A place where earning a living was now difficult and taxing. Life spans were shortened due to disease and suffering. Adam and Eve hiding from God in the Garden, again is a very fitting metaphor for the state of all human beings since then. We’re like my puppy when I come home for lunch and she’s been chewing on something that she knows she shouldn’t have. She tries to hide behind a chair or table, but of course, I can easily see her. 

We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. And because we still misunderstand God’s nature of love and grace, our natural response is to run away and hide. And so many are still running! 

The brokenness resulting from sin, according to the Scriptures, is not only something that affects us and God, i.e., it’s not only a spiritual thing. The effects reach into the depths of creation itself, which as Paul wrote in Romans 8: 19 – 22 is ‘waiting’ for the coming time when it, too, will be healed: 

The creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.
    We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 

Most biblical scholars understand this passage as teaching us that things like natural disasters, floods, droughts, earthquakes, hurricanes, disease, etc. (those ‘acts of God’) are consequences of the brokenness of the human beings that inhabit the earth. Everything shifted, everything was affected by our rebellion. 

2.  Mary and Martha call upon Jesus.
In spite of our separation from God, we – i.e., humans – still have an awareness that God is among us. We know of God’s power, and we know, either through God’s own revealed Word, or through our natural sense, that our only hope lies in God’s intervention in our lives and circumstances. So people call on God in times of trouble. 

The Scriptures tell us that Jesus was ‘the Word made flesh’, Immanuel – God with us. Mary and Martha may not have had the theology down pat, but they trusted what their hearts were telling them – God was in Christ.  And so in their deepest time of need they called on him to help.  But… 

3. Jesus does not come to them immediately.
And, as we saw earlier, he chose not to come.  And this is where it gets deep. Let’s look again at John 11: 4 – 7.
 But when Jesus heard about it he said, “Lazarus’s sickness will not end in death. No, it happened for the glory of God so that the Son of God will receive glory from this.”  So although Jesus loved Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, he stayed where he was for the next two days.  Finally, he said to his disciples, “Let’s go back to Judea.”  

What is this telling us? He loved these people, but there was a bigger plan in effect. Now, admittedly this is going to raise as many questions as it may answer. But we can draw some general conclusions here, and when taken in the context of the rest of this passage, I think it can help us formulate a mature theology of suffering. 

In referring to this specific situation, Jesus makes a general observation about suffering, which I think might be stated like this: in any of our circumstances there is more happening than we can ever understand. It’s never just about us. 

Let’s go back to our point # 1 (the nature of this world).  We saw that it was the entry of sin into the mix that brought everything crashing down in God’s Garden. But where did that sin come from? Well it came from the fact that God had truly entrusted us humans made in God’s image with the ability to choose. Not just a pretend permission, but we, as insignificant as we are, we can for a time defy even Almighty God, and choose our own path. Even when that path leads to suffering and pain. For us and for others.  We truly have freedom of will. 

The consequences of sin brought about a world that included illnesses – such as this one that afflicted a man named Lazarus. A friend of Jesus.  And while Jesus could have intervened, he chose not to, because not acting fit better into a bigger plan. 

[This is where it gets really hairy for us… in this case, OK, we understand. Jesus was going to show to Mary and Martha – and all the rest of them – that not only was there hope for the righteous in the resurrection in the last Day, but on that day, they would see that the Messiah was standing right before them. That Jesus himself was their hope. And in raising Lazarus that hope was made known to the world.] 

OK, we get that. But how about those other cases we can see no reason, no bigger plan… and try as we might, we just can’t understand? Where is God in these circumstances? Well, from this passage, we don’t get any more answers about the ‘whys’ of these things. But we do get a picture of ‘where’. Where is God?  Look at what comes next… 

4. Lazarus dies and Jesus arrives.  I want to read from verse 31 on once again, but as I read this, notice what is happening, not on the ‘outside’, not just what Jesus is doing – but listen to what he is feeling. 

When the people who were at the house consoling Mary saw her leave so hastily, they assumed she was going to Lazarus’s grave to weep. So they followed her there. When Mary arrived and saw Jesus, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 

When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled. 

[Let me pause here for a moment…it is very difficult to accurately translate the power of these words describing what Jesus was feeling in his heart. His anger was not by any means directed at the people who were weeping and wailing, certainly not at Mary for her statement.  His anger, his ‘being deeply troubled’ [literally: He chafed in spirit and sighed and was disturbed.] was a sympathetic response to the grief that he was seeing all around him.] 

“Where have you put him?” he asked them.
   They told him, “Lord, come and see.” Then Jesus wept. The people who were standing nearby said, “See how much he loved him!” But some said, “This man healed a blind man. Couldn’t he have kept Lazarus from dying?”
 (38) Jesus was still angry [lit, ‘again sighing repeatedly and deeply disquieted] as he arrived at the tomb, a cave with a stone rolled across its entrance. “Roll the stone aside,” Jesus told them. 

Where is God when I am hurting? Well trusting in the truth of the Scriptures teaching of his love all his children; knowing that God loves each of us as much as he loved Lazarus, we can conclude that God is weeping, sighing, and deeply disquieted as he experiences our grief and our pain along with us. As we accept things we can’t grasp with our human intellect, we may sense the comforting presence of Christ Jesus coming alongside us, and promising us that this is not the end of the story. There is more. 

That there will be a time when we will either understand, or we’ll realize that our questions don’t matter anymore. Paul puts it like this: I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. 

And so this story ends with a mixed blessing… 

5. Lazarus is raised
Yes, Lazarus is brought back to life.  But he is brought back into this life. Some say that at least part of Jesus’ tears and anger was over the fact that Lazarus was about to be brought back into the world of death and brokenness. He would, in fact, have to die again. 

But his raising points to the bigger picture. It points to the power of the One in whom there is truly hope. The One who holds the keys of life and death, of heaven and hell. The One who took on not only our sin, but all of our pain – to the end that all of it will be redeemed in the end. 

Something foretold by the prophet Isaiah some 700 years before Jesus was even born:
we’ll close with his words… (Isaiah 53: 3 – 5)
       He was despised and rejected by others,
       a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
       Like one from whom people hide their faces
       he was despised, and we held him in low esteem. 

       Surely he took up our pain
       and bore our suffering,
       yet we considered him punished by God,
       stricken by him, and afflicted. 

       But he was pierced for our transgressions,
       he was crushed for our iniquities;
       the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
       and by his wounds we are healed. 

Amen.

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