What do you say at a graveside when the silence
feels like the final word? That's where John
11 begins with sisters grieving, friends consoling,
a prayer that sounds more like an accusation.
Lord, if you'd only been here. It's a story that
presses on to the questions we'd rather avoid.
Why didn't God prevent this? Why did he wait?
Why do we still have to hurt? And yet, this is
also the story where Jesus speaks one of his
clearest, boldest promises. I am the resurrection
and the life, not only for some distant day,
but here now for those who believe. So let's
walk into Bethany together this morning. Let's
listen for his voice in the middle of sorrow,
because where Jesus speaks, life follows. And
if this word blesses you, challenges you, steadies
you for the week ahead, subscribe, share it.
Invite someone else to hear the good news. I'll
see you on the other side. So I've got the good
news and I've got some bad news. The good news
is the good news. We're going to find the good
news out here in just a minute, but let me go
ahead and give you the bad news. The bad news
is. I realized as I was setting up here this
morning that I need about a half a more sermon
to put on top of this sermon to make this sermon
see the good news. So that's the bad news. So
it's probably a good time at this point just
to remind you that class is dismissed when I'm
done, not when the bell rings. So let me start
this morning by really stepping way back. because
we've reached the end of one of our little stories,
sessions together. And that has been, we have
been looking at these sections that we find in
the book of John, where the apostle John, John
3 .16, we know this one, right? For God so loved
the world, that guy. Okay, he's writing at the
end of the first century. It's like in the 90s.
So Matthew, Mark, and Luke already been written,
shared. John comes along at the end and says,
I was there too. I love what those guys put down
on paper, but I want to tell my side of the story
too. One of the things John tries to do with
his book is to say, I believe that Jesus is really
the Messiah. We all grew up good Jewish boys
and girls. We all knew our Torah. We all prayed
for that Redeemer, that one that would come and
rescue and save the people of God again. It was
promised to us throughout what we Christians
might call the Old Testament, what they would
call the Scriptures. And John is saying, Jesus
is really that dude. And he says, now, I don't
want you to just take my word for it. I want
to show you, and in his instance, he takes seven
signs or miracles or wonders, and he kind of
puts them back to back to back to back to back
to back to back to say, this is my evidence that
I'm laying out that Jesus is the Messiah. Because,
John is saying, if you know your Hebrew scripture,
you'll know that the things Jesus did specifically
point back to the Messiah's coming that we read
about growing up. And what's also interesting
is, I learned this from my friend Tim Mackey.
He has this website called, or project called
the Bible Project. You may have heard of him.
It's really fascinating. If you don't, if you
haven't checked out the Bible Project, go check
it out. But one of the things that's really cool
about Dr. Mackey is he had this... I was listening
to him teach on Matthew one time and he said,
what's fascinating about the Bible is so often,
so much of the gospel accounts really are stories
about people wrestling with the reality that
Jesus is the Messiah. And how people thought
about what Jesus said and did. ranges the gamut
of human emotion. Some dropped their fishing
nets, walked away from their livelihoods when
he said follow and just started following. Some
flat out rejected. Couldn't be. Of the devil
kind of stuff. Some, most, kind of somewhere
in between. I don't know what Jesus is. But Jesus
does stuff and says things I have never heard
another person say or do. It's all along that
spectrum, right? Because when the Son of God,
when the Messiah fulfilled, when God is standing
in front of you, it's one thing to read about
it in a story from 2 ,000 years ago. It's another
thing to actually make sense of it if it's you.
And I think we kind of struggle with that same
thing today too, don't we? A lot of us grew up
in church or know something about church or really
buy into church. Some folks that don't buy into
church at all. And we all have that, still have
that same kind of gamut of emotions about how
do we respond to the possibility that Jesus is
who Jesus says that he is. Some of us leave our
nets and follow. Some of us think it's all fairy
tales. Most of us, though, live in the tension
in between. Most of us live in that tension of,
I think it sure seems that Jesus is who Jesus
says he does, but I don't know for sure exactly
what I'm supposed to do about it. And those are
the exact same problems that the first century
people were dealing with as well. How do we deal
with the fact that Jesus is who he says that
he is? John says, I'll tell you what, I believe
it, and I want to show you the stuff that I've
seen and witnessed myself to prove it. And he
doesn't just pick up his favorite seven favorite
things that his buddy Jesus did and wrote it
down. John is trying to teach us much more than
that. John actually, remember, his comes at the
end of the writing of all these other books.
He knows what these other books say. And he's
reminded, I think, of a story we find very early
on in Jesus' earthly ministry. In fact, so early
on, his cousin, John the Baptist, the guy who
baptized Jesus, the Holy Spirit came down. Remember
that scene? John the Baptist gets thrown in jail
for speaking truth to power. There was some chicanery
going on in Herod's household that was not of
God. John was flat out telling people that this
is going on, and it's not true. And so Herod
ends up throwing John the Baptist in the jail.
Another Bible story for another day. Ends up
John the Baptist's head on a platter. But in
the in -between, when John is still in prison,
Jesus is beginning his earthly ministry. John
knows who Jesus is. John has no doubt who Jesus
is. But John's in jail. And his buddy, Jesus,
his cousin, that he knows is the Messiah, is
not knocking the jail walls down. Why, if you're
the Messiah, I know you are. Why am I in jail,
John says. And he starts to actually doubt whether
Jesus really is. So he sends his disciples to
Jesus to ask him if he really is the Messiah.
And Jesus doesn't just say, go tell John yes,
or go tell John no. He answers with a statement
about things that are happening and occurring
that can be not denied. And in Matthew 11, Jesus
tells him, go tell John this. Tell him that because
of me, the blind now see, the deaf now hear,
dead people are being raised, and the good news
is being preached to the poor. Well, Jesus, that
probably just sounds like a laundry list of stuff
you just did today. No, Jesus is... He's repeating
prophecy from Isaiah 43 that says when the Messiah
will come, this is what you'll see. You'll see
the blind seeing. You'll see the deaf hearing.
You'll see the dead walking when the Messiah
comes. And John says, or Jesus says, this is
what's happening. Go tell him that. Let him decide.
John's doing the same thing. He's using his signs,
looking back to Old Testament prophecy and saying,
The Old Testament, our scripture says that when
the Messiah comes, this is going to happen. This
is going to happen. This is going to happen.
This is going to happen. And John is saying,
and here's Jesus doing this, that, this, that.
And we have now reached number seven, the last
of the signs. And it's about Lazarus. Jesus in
his last sign, according to John, raises Lazarus
from the dead. Now, this is the last point of
the pre -sermon that I want you to front load
in your brain. It's very interesting here, right?
Because Jesus raises Lazarus, who we'll find
was well beyond just dead. He was dead, graveyard
dead. And then he resurrects himself, right?
And that's where we find the climax. But what
happens? If we take Lazarus' resurrection out,
but Jesus still dies and is resurrected, what
does that tell us? Tells us, yay, Jesus is Superman.
No, no, no, no, no. Now that Jesus has raised
Lazarus from the dead, John is showing us that
same power over death is not just localized to
Jesus, but it's available to you and to me. It's
not about conquering death. It's about conquering
your, insert name here, death. Your personal
death. The one where Jesus calls you by name
out of your tomb, death. So with that in mind,
Bethany. sits on the far slope of the Mount of
Olives. It's only two miles from Jerusalem. I
was thinking about this earlier. I don't know,
maybe the high school to the Walmart? Two miles?
That's how far. Not far. Certainly not in a day
when everybody walked everywhere, right? Bethany,
right outside of town. And from where you stand
in Bethany, You can actually see the city wall,
the Jerusalem city wall. You can see the Temple
Mount glittering in the distance. But here at
this house in Bethany, the air is different.
Here, grief hangs like a fog. And you can hear
it before you see it. Wailing. A deep moan rolling
through narrow alleys. Cries. that rise and fall
like wind through a canyon. Jewish custom demands
seven days of shiva, seven days where neighbors
would gather with the family when tears are expected
and where their voices are filled with lament
because no one grieves alone in Israel. The sister's
home is swollen with people. The narrow street
outside is lined with neighbors sitting low to
the ground. Robes are torn at their collars.
Ash and dust cover the heads. Clay lamps flicker
in doorways. Incense smolders, a sweet smoke
trying to mask what everybody knows. The sour
bite of death is waiting on the edge of town.
had been in the tomb four days, four days. In
Jewish thought, the soul hovered near the body
for three, but on the fourth, it departed, and
hope had gone with it. You watch the sisters.
Mary sits still, her head bowed, her body racked
with silent sobs. Martha paces back and forth,
her jaw tight, her eyes searching down the road.
Fred's bring food, bread, olives, lentils, but
no one has an appetite. Children cling to skirts.
Old men shake their heads, quoting psalms under
their breath. Out of the depths I cry to you,
O Lord, Lord, hear my voice. This is not a quiet
house. This is a house. filled with lament. And
the sting? Jesus was close enough to come. He
was only two miles away. The sisters had sent
for him. Lord, the one you love is ill. They
knew he could heal. They had seen it before,
but he didn't come. He waited. You know that
place too, don't you? Not Bethany, perhaps, but
somewhere like it. The hospital waiting room
with the fluorescent hum where no one wants to
say the word. The living room too quiet after
hospice has carried the bed away. The graveside
with folding chairs. You know this place. This
is Bethany. This is where you stand and you feel
like God didn't show up. Friends, hold the scene.
Smell the incense. Hear the cries of the neighbor.
See the stone rolled across the cave. Into this
silence, into this scene, let the word of God
speak. For it is not an old tale, friends. It
is breath and bone still. But tune your ears,
for the Spirit speaks. John chapter 11. Now a
certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, village
of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one
who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped
his feet with her hair. Her brother Lazarus was
ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus,
Lord, he whom you love is ill. But when Jesus
heard it, he said, this illness does not lead
to death. may be glorified through it. Accordingly,
though, Jesus loved Martha and her sister and
Lazarus. And after hearing that Lazarus was ill,
he stayed two days longer in the place where
he was. Then after this, he said to the disciples,
let us go to Judea again. The disciples said
to him, Rabbi, the Jews just now were trying
to stone you. Are you going there again? Jesus
answered, are there not 12 hours of daylight?
Those who walk during the day do not stumble
because they are able to see the light of the
world. But those who walk at night stumble because
the light is not in them. After saying this,
he told them, our friend, Lazarus has fallen
asleep, but I am going there to wake him. The
disciples said to him, Lord, if he has fallen
asleep, he'll be all right. Jesus, however, had
been speaking about his death. They thought he
was referring merely to sleep. And then Jesus
told them plainly, Lazarus is dead for your sake.
He says to them, for your sake, I'm glad I was
not there so that you may believe, but let us
go with him. Thomas, who was called the twin,
said to his fellow disciples, Let us also go
that we may die with him. When Jesus arrived,
he found that Lazarus had already been in the
tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem,
some two miles away. And many of the Jews had
come to Martha and Mary to console them about
their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was
coming, she went and met him while Mary stayed
at home. Martha said to Jesus, Lord, if you had
been there, my brother would not have died. But
even now I know that God will give you whatever
you ask of him. Jesus said to her, your brother
will rise again. Martha said to him, I know that
he will rise again in the resurrection on the
last day. Jesus said to her, no, I am the resurrection
and the life. And those who believe in me, even
though they die, will live. And everyone who
lives and believes in me will never die. Do you
believe this? She said to him, Yes, Lord, I believe
that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the
one coming into the world. And when she had said
this, she went back and called her sister Mary
and told her privately, The teacher is here and
calling for you. And when she heard it, she got
up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not
yet come to the village, but was still at the
place where Martha had met him. The Jews who
were in her house consoled her and saw Mary get
up quickly. They followed her because they thought
she was going to the tomb to weep there. When
Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt
at his feet and said, Lord, if you had only been
here, my brother would not have died. When Jesus
saw her weeping and the Jews who came with her
also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit
and deeply moved. He said, where have you laid
him? They said, Lord, come and see. Jesus began
to weep. So the Jews said, see, see how he loved
them. But some of them said, could not he who
opened the eyes of the blind have kept this man
from dying? And Jesus, again, greatly disturbed,
came to the tomb. It was a cave. Stone was lying
against it. Jesus said, take away the stone.
Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him,
Lord, there's already a stench because he has
been dead four days. Jesus said to her, did I
not tell you that if you believed, you'd see
the glory of God? So he took away the stone and
Jesus looked upward and said, Father, I thank
you for having heard me. 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. And when he said this, he cried
with a loud voice, Lazarus, come out. The dead
man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips
of cloth, his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus
said to him, unbind him and let him go. Thus
ends the reading, but not the story. Sound is
still in your ears. The smell of it's still in
your nose. You can still hear the stone grinding.
You can hear the shuffle of bound feet. Beloved,
the word has been spoken, and it still echoes
across every graveyard of your life. This, friends,
is not about Lazarus. It is about you. The question
still hangs in the air. Do you believe this?
You step onto the road with Martha. The disciples
trail behind Jesus, whispering, Rabbi, The Jews
will try to stone you. Are you really going back
there? Fear rides their voices. Jesus continues
to walk. Martha's face is streaked with tears.
Her robe is torn. Her jaw is clenched. When she
sees him, she doesn't bow. She doesn't flatter.
She doesn't play polite. She says what any one
of us would have said to Jesus in that moment.
Lord, if you were here, my brother would not
have died. You've prayed it in the ICU when the
monitor went flat. You whispered it in the kitchen,
staring at an empty chair, shouted it into your
steering wheel on the drive home if you had only
been there. But Martha adds something. Even now,
I know that God will give you whatever you ask.
Even now, faith and frustration knotted together.
And Jesus says, your brother will rise again.
Martha nods. Yes, Lord, I know. On the last day
at the resurrection. And Jesus says, what no
rabbi would dare to say. No, I am the resurrection
and the life. Not someday, not one day, but here,
now, in sandals. In flesh. Martha runs back to
the house. She whispers to her sister, the teacher
is here and he is asking for you. Mary rises,
her robe heavy with tears. The mourners follow
her thinking she's going to the tomb and she
falls at Jesus' feet. The same feet she once
anointed with perfume and wiped with her hair.
She says the same words as Martha. Lord, if you
had just been here, my brother would not have
died. But she adds no hope. She just weeps. And
Jesus doesn't silence her. He doesn't bypass
Greek. The Greek for deeply moved, I'm not going
to bore you with a bunch of this, but the word
for deeply moved, that's a really neat phrase.
It means to snort with rage like a horse in battle.
He trembles. He seethes. He's angry at death.
He's angry at what death steals from us. And
then he weeps. Two words, right? We all learned
this one growing up. Shortest verse in the Bible,
Jesus wept. The resurrection and the life has
tears running down his face. The one who will
trample death lets death break his heart. Where
have you laid him, he asks. They lead him. The
crowd follows. You follow. The tomb is a cave
carved in limestone, sealed with a round stone
rolled into place. The body inside is bound with
strips of linen. Spices have been layered to
mask that smell. Myrrh, aloes, enough for the
first day, but not for the fourth. Martha warns
Jesus of this, and she's right. When the stone
begins to grind, the air rushes out foul and
final. Incense cannot cover it. The smell roils
the crowd. People stagger back. Children cover
their noses. Jesus lifts his eyes and prays,
not because he doubts. but so that you will overhear.
Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that
you always hear me, but I say this for the sake
of the crowd. They may believe. And then he bellows.
Again, the Greek cried with a loud voice. It
means a thunderous shout. It means Lazarus, come
out. And then silence. And then a shuffle, a
scrape. And then he appears, stumbling, wrapped
from head to toe, hands bound, feet tied, face
covered, still smelling of death. And Jesus turns
not to him, but to you and says, unbind him and
let him go. You lean forward, you peel away the
strips, you untie the jaw cloth, you unwrap his
face. The dead man breathes fresh air again.
The cave still smells, but out here in the open,
there is now life. The text says Jesus loved
him. That's agapio. It means covenant love. Steadfast,
chosen, enduring, he loved them. And so he waited.
But that feels to us like, and to them, like
a betrayal. But he waited until all human hope
was gone so that when life came, no one could
call it a recovery. It had to be a resurrection.
You see him weep. Jesus wept. Again, one more
Greek one, one more. Maybe two, right? But it's
not loud wailing here. Jesus wept. It's actually
quiet, personal tears. Psalm 30 whispers, weeping
may linger for the night, but joy comes with
the morning. Jesus doesn't skip the night. He
lives in it. And you hear his rage. I had mentioned
this again, the Greek for deeply moved, the snort
of fury, like a war horse charging forward into
battle. Death is not natural. It is an intruder.
And God in flesh meets it with anger before he
meets it with power. And when he shouts, it's
like a cosmic thunderclap. You hear Ezekiel's
valley come from the four winds, O breath, and
breathe upon these slain that they may live.
You hear Isaiah, he will swallow up death forever.
You hear Genesis, let there be light. The same
voice says now Lazarus come out. The tomb makes
it undeniable. Family chambers cut in limestone,
linen wrappings soaked in spices. On day four,
the body swollen, the sight overwhelming. That's
why no one can deny this miracle. And then you
realize Jesus didn't unbind him. He commands
us to do it. Unbind him. Resurrection is God's
alone, but the unbinding is yours. The church's
calling is to help one another peel away the
grave clothes that we all share of shame and
fear and addiction, despair. Resurrection and
unbinding go together. You stand in that ICU.
The monitor goes flat. The nurse lowers her eyes.
The silence is deafening. And you whisper Martha's
word, Lord, if you had only been there. Sit under
a funeral tent, folding chairs in the Oklahoma
wind. Sound of dirt falling on the coffin. You
say Mary's words, Lord, if you had only been
there. You walk into the living room with that
space now where the bed once was. Hospice has
rolled it away. The quiet is unbearable. You
think, Lord, if you had only been there. You
look into the mirror at your own shame, your
own regret, the addiction you hide, the mistakes
you can't undo, and you smell the stench of your
own tomb, Lord, if you had only been there. And
Jesus stands there still. He still weeps with
you. He still rages against that which still
binds you up. He still calls your name. And he
still sets you in a community to help unwrap
you strip by strip until you can breathe again.
This isn't just Lazarus' story. It's a rehearsal
for another tomb outside of Jerusalem. Lazarus
came out bound. Jesus came out free. Grave clothes
left behind, right? And if you call Lazarus by
name, He'll call your name, too. You stand here
now, Bethany, in your nostrils, the echo of his
shout in your chest, and he asks you, just as
he asked Martha, do you believe this? Despite
the pain that may linger, resurrection is loosed
in the world. The stone has been rolled away.
The voice still calls. Grave clothes are already
falling. Amen? Amen. When Lazarus walked out
of the tomb, he wasn't polished, finished, or
strong. He was still bound up, still in need
of help. Resurrection was God's work, but the
unbinding, that was entrusted to people around
him. That's where we should live as a church,
as a group of followers. Jesus has called us
into life and then gives each of us each other
to keep helping, praying, forgiving, encouraging,
to walk with one another as cords of fear and
shame are slowly undone. So if you leave here
still carrying sorrow, you're not disqualified.
If you leave here with more questions than answers,
you're not forgotten. If you leave here stumbling
more than striding, you're still called. Jesus
is still speaking your name, and he gives us
this promise. Death does not have the last word.
Life in him always does. Carry that truth with
you into this week. Be a part of someone else's
unbinding. Trust that Christ is already at work
in yours. And if this message has spoken to you
today, comforted you, challenged you, Maybe it
reminded you you're not alone. Hey, share it
with a friend. Subscribe so you won't miss what's
next. And help keep spreading the hope of Jesus.
I'll see you next time.