Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ (Ro 1:7). Amen.
Spring has sprung. Do you believe me? You might answer, “Yes,”
• Because the calendar says so (even though it might not seem like April).
• Because the temperatures are higher (even though there are still days that cool and crummy).
• Because the light stays longer (even though there are still skies that are gray and gloomy).
• Because you have seen signs of life—a sprout of a plant poking through the ground (even though the grass is still brown or bare).
Yes, I believe you. It is spring.
Spring turns our attention to life. Jesus turns our thoughts to it too—even in the face of death. Is that possible? Life when and where there is death? Yes, Lord, I believe you because of your promise and because of your power. We read from …
John 11:17-27,38-45
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ Jesus, who is life and who gives life,
And yet if we are honest, we find it hard—this “believe.” I don’t care what thesaurus you crack in print or consult online for a synonym—to trust in, to rely on, to be sure of, to have confidence in. It is difficult. There is that trace of doubt in your mind or touch of uncertainty in your head. So we pull out the adverbs with question marks. Really? Seriously? That is not that same as the affirmatives with exclamation marks: Definitely! Absolutely!
What about Jesus miracles? Fact or fiction? Some may wonder. We will not waver. No matter which one—the deaf hearing, the crippled walking, the storms calmed, the bellies fed. They are especially notable.
But so are the times when in spite of death there is life—Jairus’ daughter, the widow’s son, and Jesus’ friend. The other two remain nameless. But not the third—Lazarus. Those three are extremely remarkable. All because of the One behind them—the resurrection and the life (Jn 11:25). Nothing is impossible for him even when it seems that way to us. We believe them because we believe him.
Yes, Lord, I Believe You
1. Because of your promise (17-27)
2. Because of your power (38-45)
1. Because of your promise (17-27)
“Today it will be 84° degrees. I promise.” I don’t know what you think of that. You get skeptical. Perhaps, “Keep your day job. A meteorologist you do not make.” Possibly, “Check a weather app. Not too likely unless you meant 48°.” My promise is just words and you don’t believe me. Not so with Jesus. Yes, Lord, I believe you because of your promise.
Four days is a long time. That would put us at this coming Thursday since today is Sunday. It is even longer if you are waiting—for something good or bad. Mary and Martha had sent word to Jesus that their brother was very ill (Jn 11:3). We don’t know with what. In the meantime, as they anticipated Jesus’ appearance, tragedy struck. Lazarus had died. That detail is critical. Dead. Lazarus was not unconscious. Lazarus was not in a coma. His lungs had stopped breathing and his heart ceased beating. Everything pointed to that.
He had been in the tomb four days (Jn 11:17). That is the reality of cemeteries then and now. They are for those who are not living.
There were those who had come for their condolence calls, making their way to that abode in Bethany, which was relatively close to the capital city. “Many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother” (Jn 11:19). You don’t go to a funeral home nowadays for someone who is alive.
And Jesus showed up. We ought not miss that point. He always arrives at the right time for the right purpose. That is good to keep in mind when we wait in pain and wait in sickness and wait in hurt. We can criticize. We can question. Or we can contend: “Yes, Lord, I believe you.” He cares. And he comes.
There is a bit of a mix of emotions in Martha’s greeting: “Lord,” … “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask” (Jn 11:21,22). It is hard to tell what she had in mind other than a combination of grief and faith was gnawing at her heart. We get it. We have been there.
And now Jesus is there. To do more than just give his company and compassion. (There is nothing wrong with that either.) But more—his comfort. It comes with a promise. “Your brother will rise again” (Jn 11:23). Death—no disagreement there. But life—no limit here.
That can be helpful when we stand with someone who stares at the death of a loved one: “Your brother, sister, mother, father, etc. will rise again.”
And when we lash out at Martha, the busybody—trying to get Mary to help her with the meal while she just sits there at Jesus’ feet, we need to look at Martha, the bold believer (Lk 10:38-42). It is hard to beat her first confession: “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day” (Jn 11:24). That is striking. She must have spent some time in study of the Word too—more than likely from Jesus. “I know, Jesus.” Not, “It would be nice, Jesus.”
And he goes on with that profound explanation of what that is all about and with emphasis: “I am the resurrection and the life” (Jn 11:25). I am …
The resurrection. In him there is a rising up.
The life. In him there is a rising again to life (cf. Jn 1:4; 5:26).
He really is resurrection life. Because he lives, we live (Jn 14:19).
Jesus mentions what that means:
“He who believes in me will live, even though he dies” (Jn 11:25). Jesus focuses our eyes on eternity. Death does not mark the end of life even when it makes an unwelcome visit, but it means the entrance into life. Dead, but alive. “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints” (Ps 116:15).
“And whoever lives and believes in me will never die” (Jn 11:26). Those living by faith never really die. There is life—right now on earth and forever in eternity.
And then there comes Martha’s second confession. Equally as stunning. Jesus gets personal: “Do you believe this?” (Jn 11:26). And in response: “Yes, Lord,” … “I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world” (Jn 11:27). She had come to that conclusion about Jesus. And that continued to be something fixed for her.
There was no denying death that day. There is no dodging it today. As we stand at Lazarus’ tomb, it is real. Just like it has been and will be for us. And it is not natural. Death is not what God intended. But when sin entered the world, it was holding hands with its ugly companion death (Ro 6:23). The one brings the other. And neither one is pleasant or pretty. If that is the case, then where is the consolation? Who will rescue us from death (Ro 7:24)? Thanks be to God. He does. Through our Lord Jesus Christ.
That is the promise of God’s Word. And so we view dry bones with Ezekiel in that valley, not just scarcely dead, but severely dead—as if the slightest wind might reduce them to dust (Ez 37:1-14). But the prophet proclaims the Word. And there is life. Like with us. Those dead in sin become alive in Christ (Eph 2:1,5). We believe and have life through Jesus who is the life (Jn 3:16; 14:6). And we have life to the full (Jn 10:10). God creates life—physical, spiritual, and eternal. And he keeps it.
Death will touch us. It will not triumph over us. Yes, Lord, I believe you because of your promise. Those who die live. Those who live never die. With the psalmist we sing: “The LORD is gracious and righteous” (Ps 116:5). With Martha we state: “You are the Christ—the One whom God selected to serve us. You are the Son of God who saved us. You are the One who was to come into the world. You were sent from heaven to die for my guilt and rise again for my guarantee. You are the resurrection and the life. And by believing in you, I have life in your name” (Jn 20:31). Yes, Lord, I believe you because of your promise of life.
2. Because of your power (38-45)
What if I lower my prediction to 59° Fahrenheit for today? (Real feel, no wind chill.) Does that make it more convincing? You get cynical. “If only.” Finally just because I forecast it doesn’t force it to be. I don’t have that ability. Jesus does. Not just with weather, but with death. Or should we change that to life? Yes, Lord, I believe you because of your power.
Jesus got to the grave. It was more than likely looked like a cave with a boulder blocking the entrance (Jn 11:38). There is a touching point before an amazing miracle. Jesus was “deeply moved” (Jn 11:38). It was not audible, but internal, like the snorting of a horse. Sin’s destruction was obvious—what it did to Lazarus and all those gathered—and it hit Jesus. Suffering. Sadness. Distress. Death.
But he didn’t throw up his hands in frustration, but raised his voice with firmness: “Take away the stone” (Jn 11:39). That brought a bit of protest from Martha. She is respectful, but she reminds him of the four days. There was the caution that by now he would stink. She didn’t want to smell the decay or spot the decomposition. (We will let it right there.) And she didn’t want Jesus to either.
But hadn’t Jesus spelled it out: “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” (Jn 11:40)? This would be to God’s honor. And that is where Jesus directed the people as they rolled away the rock. He was thankful that the Father had heard him and that the Father and the Son operated in perfect harmony. It was good for them to believe that he dispatched Jesus for a distinct purpose and with divine authority (Jn 11:42).
And as if he was holding a megaphone, he shouted so all could hear: “Lazarus, come out!” (Jn 11:43). Three words—death defying words: “Lazarus. Here. Outside.” And he obeyed. “The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face” (Jn 11:44). This was not some prearranged signal. Notice again how John refers to him—he had died. The dead one was now the living one. The One who is life gives life.
Then Jesus instructed them to untie, unwrap the grave clothes. (We think along the lines of a mummy.) He wouldn’t need them anymore. And he could go home. John records the result of all of this on the spectators. They had been watching carefully and closely. “Therefore many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did, put their faith in him” (Jn 11:45). As eyewitnesses, each one could echo what Martha had exclaimed: “Lord, I believe you because of your power.”
We might let our mind steer us in different directions, but let us stick with what we know. And that is enough. Where there is death, there is life. All because of Jesus’ power over it. And not just here in Bethany. Soon Jesus would walk the two miles into Jerusalem where he would ride in on a donkey. Before long the religious leaders would plot and plan and then accomplish and achieve Jesus’ death by crucifixion on Good Friday. But three days later is Easter Sunday. Death could not hold him. He removed death from us by returning to life. Jesus lives for us. He has been raised from the dead (Ro 8:11; 1 Co 15:20).
And he will do the same for us. He will reunite our bodies and souls and give us glorified ones (Php 3:21). The voice that boomed at your baptism, “This is my son. This is my daughter” and allows us to call God, “Abba, Father” (Ro 8:15), will bellow on the Last Day (Da 12:2; Jn 5:28,29): “Come out.” For as the apostle Paul penned: “Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory” (Ro 8:17). The glory of heaven is ours. Nothing can or does compare to that. Yes, Lord, I believe because of your power. You deliver from death and give life (Ps 116:8).
Spring is here. That might not be too much of a stretch to believe. There are telltale indicators of life. (Maybe not as many today when it won’t be 84° or even 59°. One day.) We could claim the same at Lazarus’ tomb. Do you believe Jesus? Yes, Lord, I believe you because of your promise of life and your power over death. It is not: “In life there is death.” But: “In death there is life.” It is true. Amen.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Ro 15:13). Amen.
April 2, 2017
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