You think you have to die before you get resurrection?
Brother, resurrection and life is standing right
in front of you. Not someday. Now. You've been
on the road for a while now. Maybe not with sandals
and dust, but with the same weight riding shotgun.
You can feel it in the story before we even get
there. Bethany, a house full of grief. Four days
too late. And you know that feeling, the quiet
question you don't want to say out loud. If you
had been here. And somewhere in you, you're not
just hearing this story, you're standing in it.
Watching the road, wondering why he didn't come
sooner. And now it's Sunday morning in your headphones.
Maybe you're not in the room, but you're not
outside of it either. This is church right here.
Maybe it's in your car, your kitchen, the quiet
place where you needed something real. So settle
in. Hey, don't rush past this one. There's something
here, I promise you, with your name on it. And
I'll see you on the other side. I was thinking
ahead of time, and actually when I was doing
the communion meditation. That I do recognize
that I don't want to fall into the trap of applying,
misapplying the hope. I think that pastors, preachers
have misapplied to their congregations for centuries.
And that is that you actually pay attention to
the finer details, the sermons. But I will say
this, that if you have been with us and you have
been listening. You'll know we're in the season
of Lent. We just talked about how Holy Week is
upon us. And from Ash Wednesday, if you think
back to the times when we've been together, we
have spent a lot of our time in the wilderness.
And that was on purpose. Because that's what
those 40 days are supposed to represent. Time
in the wilderness, learning to trust in the provision
of God when your present circumstances don't
seem to give you any indication that that's the
right move. That's what God is looking for in
relationship with us. And if you're with us on
Wednesday night, you notice that we came out
of the wilderness and the road began to narrow.
Now the road definitely begins to narrow and
it's leading to one place and one place only.
And that's Jerusalem for that Passover celebration.
And we've been trying to put our sandals on and
walk with those folks as they make that journey.
So today is another attempt for us to perhaps...
Put our minds, our imaginations there to imagine,
to feel like what that scripture story must actually
feel like. So you've been on the road now for
days. The walk from the Galilee down to Jerusalem
is long. It's hot. And it's familiar. You have
made this trip every year since you were just
old enough to keep pace with your father. You
travel down the Jordan Valley and the air is
thick with heat. Your water skins empty way too
quickly. And then comes that slow rise through
the Judean hills until the road levels out and
you can now begin to smell Jerusalem ahead. The
smoke, the sacrifices, Too many people packed
into too small a space because it's Passover.
But this year is different. This year, you've
made the journey with a purpose beyond the feast.
You have walked this year with this rabbi, the
one from Nazareth. And you've seen... Him do
things you still can't explain without your brother
-in -law trying to change the subject. But you
were with him. You were a part of something.
Except now, you're not sure where he is. Somewhere
in the last few days, Jesus is separated from
the group. You didn't see him leave. You only
realized at some point that he is no longer ahead
of you on the road. And you assume maybe he'd
gone ahead into Jerusalem. Maybe he had business
there before the feast. Maybe he wanted to arrive
ahead of the crowd. It made sense. But does it
sit right? And it hasn't sat right for days.
And the closer you get to the city, the heavier
it begins to feel. You don't know where he went.
And the not knowing is part of what those four
days did to you. They made your faith heavier
than your certainty. And now, now you're approaching
Bethany. A mile and a half, just a mile and a
half from Jerusalem. It's the last village before
the climb over the Mount of Olives and down into
the city. And the Pilgrim Road runs right through
it. And even from a distance, this time, you
can tell something has happened. There are too
many people. And you can hear the mourning before
you reach the edge of town. Lazarus is dead.
Martha and Mary's brother. Everybody knows them.
Jesus stayed at their house. He ate at their
table. They were close. And Lazarus has been
dead for four days. And Jesus isn't here. And
that's what catches in your throat. He isn't
in Bethany mourning his friend. He isn't in Jerusalem
as far as you know. He's just gone. And you're
standing on a road full of grieving people thinking
something you don't want to say out loud. If
he knew Lazarus was sick, why didn't he come?
If Bethany is so close to Jerusalem, why didn't
he at least stop? What kind of man heals strangers,
skips the funeral of someone he loved? And you
don't have an answer. Only the ache of that question.
And you're almost ready to just keep on walking
into the city when someone says, the rabbi's
coming. Where the road bends and the dust won't
settle, where four days have done what four days
do, where the sisters have repeated the same
sentence to every person who walks through their
door, if he had only been here. where spices
have now been measured, the stone has been rolled,
and grief has found its rhythm, the way grief
does when it lingers long enough to just seep
into the walls of the room. And now he's coming
up the road. Late. The way you arrive when you
should have been there from the beginning. Friends.
Tune your ears to the reading of Holy Scripture
this morning. Our account this morning comes
to us from the Gospel account according to the
beloved disciple John, beginning in his 11th
chapter, verse 17. So when Jesus came, he found
that Lazarus had been in the tomb four days already.
Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, about 15 stadia
away. Many of the Jews had joined the women around
Martha and Mary to console them concerning their
brother. Then when Martha heard that Jesus was
coming, she went and met with him. But Mary stayed
in the house. Therefore Martha said to Jesus,
Lord, if you had been here, my brother would
not have died even now. I know that whatever
you ask of God, God will give you, Jesus said
to her. Your brother will rise again. Martha
said to him, I know that he will rise again at
the last day. And Jesus said to her, I am the
resurrection and the life. He who believes in
me will still live even if he dies. Whoever lives
and believes in me will never die. Do you believe
this? She said to him, yes, Lord. I have come
to believe that you are the Christ, God's son.
He comes into the world. And when she had said
this, she went away and called Mary, her sister,
secretly, saying, the teacher is here and is
calling you. When she heard this, she arose quickly
and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come into
the village, but was in the place where Martha
met him. Then the Jews who were there with her
in the house and were consoling her when they
saw Mary, then she rose up quickly and went out
following her, saying, She's going to the tomb
to weep there. Therefore, when Mary came to where
Jesus was and saw him, she fell down at his feet,
saying, Lord, if you had been here, my brother
wouldn't have died. When Jesus therefore saw
her weeping and the Jews weeping who came with
her, he groaned in the spirit and was troubled
and said, Where have you laid him? They told
him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. The Jews,
therefore, said, see how much affection he has
for him. Some of them said, couldn't this man
who opened the eyes of him who was blind have
also kept this man from dying? Jesus, therefore,
again, groaning in himself, came to the tomb.
Now it was a cave, and a stone lay against it.
Jesus said, Take away the stone. Martha, the
sister of the dead man, said to him, Lord, by
this time there is a stench, for it has been
four days. Jesus said to her, Didn't I tell you
that if you believed, you would see God's glory?
So they took away the stone from the place where
the dead man was lying. Jesus lifted up his eyes
and said, Father, I thank you that you listened
to me. I know that you always listen to me and
because of the multitude that stands around,
I say this, that they may believe that you sent
me. And when he said this, he cried out with
a loud voice, Lazarus, come out. came out, bound
hand and foot with wrappings, and his face was
wrapped around him with a cloth. And Jesus said
to them, Free him and let him go. Thus ends reading
a word this morning. And the dust still won't
settle. The sisters have stopped saying if. And
now you are standing. On the road, you were ready
to walk past from five minutes ago, but now your
feet won't move. And I want to ask you something,
and I want you to think before you answer. Have
you ever been angry at someone for not showing
up, only for them to arrive and make it worse?
Not worse because they were cruel. But because
what they did revealed how badly you underestimated
them. You thought they didn't care. And then
they did something that made your anger look
frighteningly small. That is where you're standing
right now on that road. You were ready to write
him off. Not completely, not forever, but in
that quiet human way where disappointment begins
to harden our hearts. He should have been here.
He should have come. And now he is here, weeping
at the tomb of the man he could have saved. You
hear someone behind you say what you've been
thinking, right? If he could open that blind
guy's eyes, couldn't he have stopped all of this?
And I wonder if that's not exactly what those
four days were actually for. Not punishment.
Not neglect. A furnace. Because the faith you
carried on this road, The faith that said, I
have seen Jesus do amazing things. That faith
wasn't ready for a tomb yet. It needed to be
broken down into something harder, something
more honest before it could hold what is about
to happen. You have to lose your confidence in
him. before you can gain something bigger than
confidence. But Jesus doesn't answer the question.
He doesn't explain the delay. He doesn't offer
a lesson about God's timing or God's will. He
just simply says, take away the stone. And Martha,
practical, grieving, Faithful Martha tries to
stop him because the body has been dead for four
days. She's trying to spare everyone what death
does to a body given time. And he says to her,
didn't I tell you? That if you believed, you
would see God's glory? Now, pause. Listen to
what just happened. Martha said something perfectly
orthodox a few minutes ago. I know that he will
rise again in the resurrection at the last day.
That's good theology. That's the right answer
on the exam. And Jesus didn't affirm it. He didn't
say, that's right, and here's how. He said, I
am the resurrection and the life. He collapsed
the distance. Martha's theology. had put resurrection
safely at the end of time, at the last day, where
it couldn't ask anything of her right now. And
grief does that to us. Grief pushes hope to the
horizon. Because sometimes, and you all know
this to be true, sometimes hope up close is too
dangerous. If you hope for the last day, you
don't have to risk hoping for this afternoon.
Jesus took the one thing she was counting on
later. and said, it's standing right in front
of you now. And then he told her to prove it,
roll away the stone. And her faith in that moment
is not safe. It is a woman letting someone open
a grave she has already accepted as final. Because
the man asking her to do that told her everything
she believed about resurrection was even closer
than she could have ever imagined. And then he
shouts, not softly, not privately, but with a
loud voice into a sealed tomb, Lazarus, come
out. And there's also a neat little tradition.
I don't know if this is true or not, but... Jesus
has to shout and call out Lazarus by name because
if he had just said, come out, all of the tombs
would have opened. I don't know if that's true
or not, but isn't that interesting to think about?
Pretty cool. And the man who was dead came out,
still wrapped, hands and feet bound, face covered,
but moving and breathing. And you saw it. It's
not some story you heard around a campfire. Not
something that occurred from a distance. You
saw a dead man stand because that rabbi you have
been doubting this whole time called him by name.
And what do we do with that? You can't unsee
it. You can't set it aside. A man dead four days
is standing right in front of you. And Jesus,
the one you thought had failed his friends, says
unbind him and let him go. And he doesn't say
that to Lazarus. He says it to you. To the people
standing around what would have been a grave.
Jesus called him out, but he told the community
to unwrap him. The calling is his. The unbinding
is yours. And that's not a consolation prize
handed off to bystanders. That's resurrection
completing itself through your very hands, the
same hands who were ready to keep on walking
just five minutes ago. And everything you thought
you understood, has now shifted. And you didn't
come here for this. You were just passing through.
But now the road to Jerusalem seems to run through
something undeniable. Whatever you thought Jesus
was, prophet, teacher, healer, that category
is now shattered. Because prophets don't do this.
Teachers don't do this. You have been following
someone who speaks to death and is answered by
it. And I think what happened to Lazarus in that
tomb is not the most important resurrection of
the whole story. I think the most important resurrection
happened And you, standing on a road where you
thought hope had been dead for four days, and
then watch it come stumbling out into the light,
wrapped in cloth, waiting for someone to finish
what God had started. And you don't have language
for it yet, but you can't stop talking about
it. So. May the God who shows up late and shows
up strong meet you on whatever road you're walking.
And may he honor your road, not just his schedule.
May the thing you were ready to give up on hear
its name called. May someone close enough to
unbind you come near and let you go. Amen? Amen.
You know, there's just something about this story
that just won't let you stay comfortable. Because
it meets you right there. In that place where
you've already rolled the stone and tried to
make peace with what didn't turn out the way
you had planned. And still, he comes. Not early,
not on your timeline, but not absent either.
And he stands in front of whatever you've called
finished and says, take away that stone. And
that's when it gets honest. Because it means
some of us have been living next to things we've
buried and calling it faith when really it's
just distance. What if he's still calling names
out of the grave? then maybe it's not over the
way you decided it was over. Maybe resurrection
isn't just something you believe in, it's something
standing right next to you. And if you heard
something today, something that caught you off
guard, something that sounded like truth in a
voice you hadn't heard in a while, go ahead and
throw that little like in the offering plate
like we do down at the church. Just says you
were here and you appreciate it. And if you want
to keep walking with us all the way through Holy
Week and right into Easter morning, make sure
you tithe your subscribe. That way you'll know
when we are headed towards Jerusalem again. Until
next time, friend, be blessed.