ROBERTO DESANDOLI
5th Sunday in Lent
John 11: 1-45
“Trust in Him”
It has been both interesting and convicting, to hear the way that the lectionary readings for Lent this year have so closely reflected what is going on in the world around us.
Two weeks ago, on March 15th, we heard the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, that spoke so clearly into the reality of our “fear of the other” that has been so present during the Coronavirus pandemic.
Last week, on March 22nd, we heard John’ story of the man born blind, and Jesus who gave him sight, and of those disciples, and neighbours, and Pharisees, who all opposed Jesus with their unbelief in different ways, reminding us how we ourselves are often more doubtful and worldly-minded then we are faithful.
Finally, this week, we have heard, in words even closer to the Coronavirus situation, in words even closer to the places of Spiritual challenge and rawness that we feel during Lent… we hear Jesus Christ Himself speaking about his friend Lazarus, a man who has fallen ill.
This man Lazarus is sick, his family is worried about him; his sisters Mary and Martha have sent for Jesus, hoping that He will come just in time to save Lazarus’ life… and in response Jesus says “This illness does not lead to death…”
“This illness does not lead to death…”
We can almost hear, in these words of Jesus, the same cavalier slogans, the same words of de-escalation that we heard (and perhaps even said) of the Coronavirus not that long ago…
“This illness does not lead to death…”
“This virus is not deadly…”
“It’s barely worse than the flu…”
“Sure, a few people may die, but they are people who already have health problems, they are the sick, the elderly; people whose lives are threatened by any illness…”
A few weeks ago, when words like these were in heavy rotation, I saw an online post by someone living with compromised immunity; it said simply “we can hear you.”
We can hear you when you talk about this virus killing “only those who are elderly”; we can hear you when you talk about this virus killing “only those with compromised immunity”; we can hear you and we can hear how little you seem to care for us.
Now obviously, the trouble in the text is not quite the trouble in the world. The trouble is not that Jesus doesn’t care about Lazarus’ illness. John tells us multiple times that Jesus loved Lazarus.
The trouble is not that Jesus doesn’t care about Lazarus’ illness, or our illness, or the world’s illness, rather the trouble is that Jesus, the Son of God, the Word made flesh told the family of an ill man:
“This illness does not lead to death”
…and then Lazarus died.
Now, I want to be perfectly clear about what I mean by trouble. When there is trouble in a text it does not mean that something is untrue, or that God is wrong, or that we cannot trust in this text, rather it means that there is something going on that is calling us to reflect deeper, to pray more faithfully, to listen to God’s word more closely. There is trouble throughout all of Scripture, and as my preaching professor Stephen Farris said often: we should always preach the trouble.
Friends, as I have said, there is trouble in this text.
There is trouble in the words spoken by Jesus when He said:
“This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it”
There is also trouble in the words spoken later by Jesus when He said:
“Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him”
And there is trouble in the tearful words of Mary, as she spoke to Jesus in her weeping:
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died”
There is trouble throughout this text, and throughout Scripture, and throughout the world…
The point of this trouble is not to explain it away but rather to have the courage to be drawn into it. To step outside of ourselves and our safety and to follow it where it is leading us to grow into the likeness of Christ.
To be like Thomas the disciple, who, when he heard Jesus proclaim:
“Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”
Thomas responded with the words:
“Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
Trusting in God, walking humbly with Him, following Jesus, taking up our cross, going into the places of trouble, dying to ourselves and being reborn in Jesus Christ. This is what it means to be a Christian.
We are all given the opportunity to do these things on every page of Scripture and in every day of our lives.
There is trouble in the story of Lazarus and there is trouble in the Coronavirus-era that we are living in, and the purpose of following Christ, worshipping Him, and following His Word is not to avoid the trouble, but to learn how to live as faithful people through it.
Deciding to follow Christ, in Scripture and in life requires us to go into places of trouble. It requires us to go to the margins; to the places where the thin comforts of this world no longer work. Following Jesus means experiencing joy and suffering each in their fullness, knowing that Christ is fully present in all of life, and practicing the faith to turn to Him in times of trouble and believe again and again.
In equipping us for this journey, God has given us a symbol, an orientation, and a hope which is the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
The same Jesus who at first appears to have been wrong about Lazarus’ illness; the same Jesus who appeared to fail to save Mary from her grief; this is the same Jesus who not only raised Lazarus from his grave but also went down to His own in order to give the world a foretaste of our own resurrection.
After Jesus was accused by Mary, after He seemed to fail her and her brother, after He Himself began to weep for the loss of the friend He loved, some standing nearby said to one another:
“Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
The question, on the lips of Mary, and Martha, and even the onlookers was a troubling one, but one we should be familiar with: “Jesus where were you?”
“Jesus, where were you when Lazarus was dying?”
“Jesus, where were you when the world fell ill from this virus?”
“Where were you when 30,000 people perished?”
“Where were you when so many doctors and nurses in China and Italy gave up their lives?”
It can be easy, on troubling days like these, and reflecting on troubling texts like the ones we have been reading this Lenten Season, to lose our orientation in Christ and his cross.
It can be easy, looking at the disruption, the illness, and the loss of life around us to decide that the trouble outweighs any kind of faith God may be trying to draw us into through it…
In these times, we can find ourselves becoming skeptical or even critical of God:
“Why would God would allow this to happen?”
“What kind of God would allow this to happen?”
“Does God not care, does He not know what is going on here?”
And even if you do not feel this way, chances are that you are close to someone who does…
These times, for as difficult as they are, are each an opportunity to turn around (literally to “repent”) and to trust in God.
Friends, in addition to the instruction to preach the trouble, another instruction I took to heart at seminary was the direction to never “explain away” anyone’s pain or questioning of God with cheap slogans.
That no matter how tired, how overwhelmed, or exhausted we would find ourselves, we (ministers in training) should never, under any circumstances, answer a tearful plea with “It’s all a mystery”
Even in my relatively short time in speaking with people about God and faith, I have reckoned that there are untold numbers of people out there with broken hearts because a person of faith told them, at one time in their life, “it’s all a mystery”
Why did I lose my job? It’s all a mystery.
Why did my marriage end? It’s all a mystery.
Why did my loved one die? It’s all a mystery.
To the church’s great shame (and need for confession) this trite inability to engage with the trouble of life has become a cliché in popular culture. Anytime we ask questions of God that are too deep, too real, or too raw, we are sure to find an apathetic Christian throwing up his hands and saying “it’s all a mystery” (again, at least according to popular culture).
Only, that’s not the experience for many of us and it’s not the experience of those people witnessed to in the Gospel this morning.
For as troublesome as the nature of Lazarus’ illness, death, and resurrection is, it cannot be said that Jesus simply refused to engage with the trouble.
When Jesus heard of Lazarus’ death, he spoke in mysterious but also true words:
“This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it”
Later, in speaking of Lazarus’ death, Jesus again spoke in the truth of the resurrection that was to come:
“Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him”
Finally, even as Jesus was listening to Lazarus’ heartbroken sister Mary pour her heart out to Him, He did not explain away her pain. He did not offer her platitudes or slogans. He did not practice apathy. Rather, He listened and He watched her weep, and He himself began to weep.
By now, I hope that we are beginning to see.
That Jesus did not deny Lazarus’ death, or come slowly to his aid, or hear the plea of his sister without care or concern. Rather, He did it in order to demonstrate to the world what was about to take place at Easter.
How just like Lazarus, He Himself was about to be made to go down to death
How just like Lazarus, He too would be resurrected
How just like Lazarus, He was about to become a symbol of resurrection, of God’s Word made flesh on earth, of the hope of the Gospel…
It’s not a mystery. Actually, it’s anything but.
It is not a mystery that Christ died in order to be resurrected.
It is not a mystery that Christ went to the cross in order to save us from our sins.
It is not a mystery that Christ rolled the stone away in order to show the world that the powers of sin and death have no power next to God’s Salvation.
It is not a mystery that later, by sending His Holy Spirit to guide the church, Christ intended this Gospel to spread throughout the world and to call all who would hear it to take up their cross and to follow Him, even to death.
Hear now the end of the story of Jesus and Lazarus:
38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 42 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.” 43 When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
To hear how Jesus resurrected Lazarus from the grave.
To hear how Jesus gave of Himself and went through pain and weeping to do so.
To reflect on the reality that Jesus underwent all of this while knowing that He himself would soon be crucified and killed.
Is to hear not of a God who does not care.
It is to hear not of a God who throws his hands up and says it’s all a mystery.
Rather, it is to hear of a God who cares very deeply… who is willing to go where we go and even where we dare not. It is to hear of a God who outpours His love for us in the miracle of the resurrection.
It is to hear of a God who goes into and through the places of trouble, all for our sake and the sake of the Gospel.
“So that God may be gloried”
“So that the sleeping may be awoken”
“So that all who saw would know the Son was sent by the Father”
These are the reasons Jesus Christ gave for the trouble which was revealed and sanctified in this story.
Whether, in these times of Lent and this time of worldwide pandemic, we find ourselves doubting or praising the Lord for the trouble around us, let us at least recognize that ours is a God who goes into the places of trouble with us.
And not only that, but our God takes on this trouble while knowing that He has taken all of it to the cross for our sake.
Through times of trouble, we are called to seek and to cling to the cross of Christ more closely than ever: to seek this symbol, to seek this orientation, to seek this hope. Not just so that we would be comforted by the story of Jesus but so that we might learn to live it in our own lives. To know his cross so closely that we are able to find and lift up our own and to offer both as symbols of the Gospel to a world in need of hope.
In opposition to the uncaring or apathetic God spoken about in culture, the Christ of Scripture and of the cross is a God we can trust.
We know that we can trust in Christ
The Good News this day, and on each day of trouble is that we have hope in the resurrected Christ. We have hope in the one who raised Lazarus and Himself, and who will raise all who believe in this Gospel from the grave.
We know that we can trust in the hand of Christ, outstretched to us in the tomb of this world, accompanied by the voice calling us to “come out” and to be “unbinded” by death.
We know that we can trust in this hand because this hand has already died for us; this hand has taken on death itself and died to it in order to be reborn and to demonstrate the Glory of God.
We know it is the hand of Christ, the hand of the Saviour, the hand that can raise the dead with a word, because it is the hand that has been pierced.
When you find yourself closest to Spiritual death…
When you find yourself in the death of fear, or sin, and hopelessness, or apathy, trust in this hand and seek it…
You will know and trust for certain it is the hand of Christ when you see the wound that has been put there; to save you from all sin and to offer you eternal life.
Amen.
