Grief + Glory | A Bible Story

Jesus wept.” (John 11:35)

Two words. 

The shortest verse in scripture, and the one that tormented me the most. 

In the story surrounding these two words, we find Lazarus, a friend of Jesus, sick. His sisters Mary and Martha, with growing concern, send word to Jesus. 

“Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick.” (V. 3)

He’ll come, they must think, we’re dear friends. Jesus loves us.

Jesus receives word, yet He doesn’t come. In fact, scripture records that he stayed where he was. 

Meanwhile, Lazarus gets sicker.

Stepping into this story, you can begin to feel the unwritten tension grow between verses, the slow break of Mary and Martha’s hearts as they care for their brother. Watching hour by hour, day by day, as sickness claims his body. 

Gathering clean linens and fresh water, “Are you sure you got word to him?!”

“Yes, yes!”

Hours pass. 

Jesus didn’t come. 

“Martha, did you make that broth? Let’s try to get him to drink something. Maybe it will help. I’ll change his bed sheets again…try to make him more comfortable.”

A whole day passes, and the severity of Lazarus’ sickness begins to settle in the house. 

Martha begins to pace back and forth, “Mary, he won't eat or drink anything. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do…”

And Jesus didn’t come.

Hearing Lazarus’ cough thicken as it slowly begins to take his breath, “But did you tell him who was sick?! He loves Lazarus, if He knew who it was, he would come. I know it!” Desperation must have filled her. 

“He’ll come, Martha. I know Jesus will come. We know him! We’ve served him. We’ve seen him perform miracles. We’ve worshiped him…he’ll come for us…he’ll come. Have faith!”

Another day passes.

And Jesus still didn’t come. 

“Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus.” (V. 5)

Stepping back in between the verses, we see Mary and Martha sitting in the room with death. Their brother has died. 

As they dipped the cloth in fresh water, wringing it out to begin washing his body, I wonder where their thoughts went? Did they talk about Lazarus' life? Did they laugh recounting their childhood memories?

Brushing his hair and anointing him with spices, did they wonder why Jesus didn’t save them from this moment?

Wrapping him in linen cloth for burial, did they rest in the love they knew they shared with Jesus, or did doubt start to ask its haunting questions?

Jesus tells his disciples, “Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep. Then said his disciples, Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well. Howbeit Jesus spake of his death: but they thought that he had spoken of taking of rest in sleep. Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead.” (V. 11-14)

As soon as Martha hears that Jesus is coming she goes and meets him. 

“Lord”, Martha says “if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. But I know, even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it to thee.” (V. 21-22)

Jesus says, “Thy brother shall rise again.” (V. 23)

Martha went to get Mary to let her know Jesus was there and wanting to see her. 

As soon as Mary sees him she falls down at his feet weeping, “Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.” (V. 32) 

“When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled, and said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. (V. 33-35)

This story in my Bible has a date beside it. February 2018. I didn’t know it then, but 2018 would be the beginning of some of the darkest years of my life. It was the final descent of my Mother’s sickness, that would take her life just two short years later. 

Beside verse 35, I wrote one note: “Why?”

My spirit read those two words and felt bitterness. I even felt anger. 

I didn’t understand. I just couldn’t make it fit. 

Yes, I’ve read the commentaries. The words of scholars and professors much smarter than I. God is touched by the feelings of our infirmities, (Hebrews 4:15) they would often reference. 

Yet nothing quenched my bitterness.

Reading about Jesus weeping over a death he could have prevented, as we laid my Mother to rest, felt cruel. 

I was in agreement with the Jews, “And some of them said, Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?” (V.37)

Reading between the texts, imagining Mary and Martha watching their brother slowly die, while still reaching for the Lord in faith, was tragic. 

THEN Jesus arrives! He’s here. Our King has shown up. 

Feeling both Mary and Martha’s reactions to his arrival, “Lord, IF ONLY you had been here we know you would have healed him! Even in the face of death, they held onto their faith. 

To cement my resentment, reading this short verse felt like a huge pause. A halt in the story. After days spent in agonizing hope over their brother, only to bury him, the Lord shows up giving them hope anew, “Your brother will rise again”. THEN right before he performs the miracle He promised, He stops to weep. Insult to injury. 

It felt wrong. These women have been weeping…for days! Why is Jesus weeping now? He knows he’s about to heal Lazarus from the dead! He knows he’s about to perform a miracle that will heal their hearts. Why is he weeping? Why does he pause here? In the most painful part? Rip the bandage off, Lord, just heal him. Bring him back! Make this moment over. This is literal torture. We’ve been waiting for days and days and you’re finally here…please, take this pain away! 

Yet, Jesus takes time to weep.

Years later, my husband was watching a video. It was filmed  interview-style between a father and son. The son was living inside a cancer diagnosis. 

The young son, with valor and light answers all the questions…

“I was chosen to walk through this. I am a light…I will tell people about the gospel of Christ…”

This little boy was filled with such strength. Carrying his pain while resting in his purpose. Meanwhile across the screen I see the father with streams of tears flowing down his face. 

“Why does Daddy cry?”, the Father asks.

“Because you don’t want me to have to go through this.”

I gasp audibly. There, right there. A glimpse into my King’s heart. 

While I felt peace hearing that earthly Father cry for his precious boy, knowing it mirrored the heart of Jesus that day, I also felt the nudge to keep digging. I missed something important. 

So, back to the story that grieved me so, I went…

“Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha…When Jesus heard that, he said, This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby…

Speaking at my Mother's Funeral, I referenced this verse. The purpose found in pain. That God can get glory in what we can’t always understand, praying that would be enough to calm my raging loss. Sharing in torment with Mary and Martha, I held my fragile faith out to God in hope while my soul was plagued with my opposing truths, “How do you believe for healing while you are preparing for death?” 

Coming back to this story, years later, with the balm of God’s love over my wound, my eyes were opened. 

And then I saw something…

I had it all wrong. 

You see, what I originally read as truth contradicting, I now saw two worlds colliding. Not the clashing of realities, but realms touching: heaven and earth; spirit and flesh.

In verse 4, we see a glimpse of one realm. Jesus’ POV. His eternal observance from Heaven. Once he receives word, He says, “This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby.” 

Then he tarried. No urgency. No panic.

“Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep.” 

This is the moment…

The first touch of the realms. Jesus in the spirit sees Lazarus sleeping, while Mary and Martha in the natural world are smelling the decay of their brother’s body. 

Two realms…two truths. 

His own disciples didn’t see. “Then said his disciples, Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well. Howbeit Jesus spake of his death: but they thought that he had spoken of taking of rest in sleep. Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead.”

At this point in the story, we must pause, because we are at a pivotal crossroad. To continue in the fullness of truth, we have to accept both realms, both truths.

Jesus loved Lazarus, and still let him suffer.

Jesus loved Martha, and he didn’t answer her prayer.

Jesus loved Mary, and he let her bury her brother. 

Hold space for this with me for a moment:

Jesus’ love doesn’t take away pain, but neither can pain take away Jesus’ love. 

Our writer, John points out, “Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. When he had heard therefore that he was sick, he abode two days still in the same place where he was.” (V. 5-6)

It began to read differently to me: ‘Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus, SO, he abode two days in the same place where he was.”

Not that he was indifferent to their pain, but that he was working through it with intention. 

“And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe; nevertheless let us go unto him. Then said Thomas, which is called Didymus, unto his fellowdisciples, Let us also go, that we may die with him.” (He referred to a fear of being stoned.) 

Another collision of worlds: Jesus, seeing the path to ultimate belief, while his disciples prepare to go to their very death. 

It feels like Jesus is trying desperately to show those he loved something, but they cannot see. The path Jesus leads them down looks, to them, like death, but Christ wants to lead them to glory. 

“When Jesus therefore saw her (Mary) weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled,” (V. 33)

Yes, his heart was hurting for those he loved, but he was troubled. Why?! Because they couldn’t see! The disciples, those He loved, couldn't see what he was showing them. 

Jesus stood there in the tension. Holding the door open between realms; fully knowing resurrection was coming, yet fully entering into their grief as if it weren’t. 

“Jesus saith…Thy brother shall rise again.”

“Martha saith unto him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Martha responds with limited belief. Yes, I know eventually he will rise again Lord. 

“Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this? 

She saith unto him, Yea, Lord: I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world.”

Martha, like the disciples, doesn't see what Jesus is trying to show.

So…”Jesus wept.”

Raising Lazarus from the dead was Jesus’ last public miracle, and rereading it with fresh vision during Holy Week has been profound. What I knew to be a story foreshadowing Christ’s own death and resurrection, felt even more sacred. I now saw a friend trying to prepare those he loved for what was to come. A King preparing for the ultimate and final colliding of the realms.

Let’s watch:

CRASH!

Earth: Jesus is condemned. A sentence passed. 

Heaven: Sin is judged. The death penalty cast. 

CRASH!

Earth: An innocent man goes to the cross. 

Heaven: A guilty one goes free.  

CRASH!

Earth: Jesus is beaten, tortured and mutilated; his life sacrificed. 

Heaven: The wrath of God satisfied. Restoration between God and man. 

CRASH!

Earth: A dead man’s body wrapped in a tomb. 

Heaven: A King taking back the keys to death, Hell and the grave. 

“Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?”

There it is. Our eternal invitation. His outstretched hand reaching across space and time, across nationalities and countries, across realms and worlds.

Jesus calls us to take up our cross and follow him. Take up what? Take up the tension of two realities and carry our tether to another realm. 

If we accept His invitation and answer yes, He’ll pull us into a Kingdom of wonder. A realm where death is just sleep, a Kingdom where grief is a doorway to glory. 

Do you believe?