When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied. Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” ~ John 11: 33-37
A beloved cousin had to bury her husband recently after a long struggle with cancer. There’s nothing like going to a Christian funeral, though. Smiles and laughter accompany the tears. In the midst of loss there is comfort that though we’ll be without our loved one the rest of our lives, there is certainty that life isn’t really over for them. In fact, they have acquired a new life of the kind desired by all humanity. Life free from sickness, free from struggle, free from heartache and loss, and free from all forms of evil. While the Christian grieves facing the rest of his or her life without access to their loved one, they couldn’t have wished a better outcome for them.
That is why I’m often amazed at how people interpret the simplest of verses in the Bible, “Jesus wept.” I am not surprised by the reaction of people present at the time. Naturally, they attributed his grief to the loss of his friend. Naturally, they expected him to react in much the same way as they would have reacted. Hence the confusion also expressed over why he hadn’t hurried to his friend’s side. But here we are, generations removed from that moment and with the power of hindsight. Looking back through the filter of Christ’s blood on the cross, we should be able to understand him in a way not yet revealed to those in attendance that day. So, when I hear a pastor speak of Christ’s grief over Lazarus, my head cocks to one side like a beagle hearing something strange. By this time he had spent years teaching us about the heart of God, about the meaning of things before and things to come, and about heaven and hell. Knowing of Lazarus’ faith, and also knowing his own purpose there that day, there is no way he wept over Lazarus. He was weeping instead for those grieved.
Look at the passage again. Read it from beginning to end. When was he deeply moved in spirit and troubled? When did he weep? When he saw how the people grieved. To the onlooker, he seemed pretty cavalier about the whole matter until then. Do you think seeing the mourners finally brought home the reality that Lazarus was gone? No. He was even more aware of death’s reality than the mourners, which is precisely how he could be so cavalier. Jesus knew Lazarus was safe all along. He was also well aware of his own intentions. There was no hurry and no worry. Not for him.
I live in hurricane country. I was born here, raised here, and have experienced all kinds of direct hits or near misses. Every year provides ample amusement in watching newcomers fret at the first hint of a hurricane in the Caribbean. While I claim no true expertise on these great storms, I have sat through enough threats to know what can and cannot be predicted about them. There are certain rules to which I adhere: like, here on the northern gulf coast, I don’t heed a storm until after it crosses Cuba, and no matter how predictably a storm behaves, all bets are off once it hits the gulf stream and the continental shelf. Familiarity allows me the security of knowing what to expect, so I know how to prepare. The newcomers don’t have that. The unknown is what frightens them, as it does any of us. Those who live with the security of knowing what to expect don’t fret, and Jesus didn’t fret. Not when he heard Lazarus was sick, not when he heard he had died, and not when he was confronted with the grief of the bereaved. Jesus moved at the easy pace of a man secure in what came next.
The bereaved didn’t worry him, but their grief did move him. He could see the pain of their loss. He knew they didn’t feel the same security he had. It was heart-wrenching for him. Don’t you hear his voice crack as he asks, “Where have you laid him?” Now the task before him is urgent, not for the sake of Lazarus, but for those who loved him.
I love this verse. It shows the heart of a God who truly understands us — who puts Himself in our shoes and comprehends how we struggle. The fear, the confusion, the grief … none of it is lost on Him. For me, it is a great comfort knowing that even when He doesn’t undo that which grieves me, He is invested enough to grieve with me. If I mourn, I never mourn alone. This is something I know not only because of promises made from afar (Moreover, I have heard the groaning of the Israelites, whom the Egyptians are enslaving, and I have remembered my covenant. ~~ Exodus 6:5), but because He was in the thick of it with us as Jesus, grieving for his beloved and being moved by our sorrow.
POINTS TO PONDER
What is it that you grieve? Does it feel as though THE LORD doesn’t hear you? Do you wonder if He even cares? Take a moment to visualize the scene described above. Now, insert yourself among the mourners. Be comforted that OUR LORD is deeply moved by your pain, even though you don’t personally behold Him weeping.