5^th Sunday in Lent at Epiphany on March 9, 2008

John 11:17-27,38-45 On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. ¹⁸ Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, ¹⁹ and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. ²⁰ When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home. ²¹ "Lord," Martha said to Jesus, "if you had been here, my brother would not have died. ²² But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask." ²³ Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." ²⁴ Martha answered, "I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day." ²⁵ Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; ²⁶ and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" ²⁷ "Yes, Lord," she told him, "I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world." … ³⁸ Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. ³⁹ "Take away the stone," he said. "But, Lord," said Martha, the sister of the dead man, "by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days." ⁴⁰ Then Jesus said, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" ⁴¹ So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me. ⁴² I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me." ⁴³ When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" ⁴⁴ The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go." ⁴⁵ Therefore many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did, put their faith in him.

“Look, He’s Moving!”

Three friends were discussing death and one of them asked, “What would you like people to say about you at your funeral?” The first of the friends said, “I’d like them to say, ‘He was a great humanitarian who cared about his community.’” The second said, “I’d like them to say, ‘He was a great husband and father, who was an example for many to follow.’” The third friend said, “I’d like them to say, ‘Look! He’s moving!”

That’s what Martha would have wanted said about her brother, Lazarus. Martha had hoped Jesus would show up at her home in order to heal Lazarus. But Jesus had putzed and dawdled and delayed. Then she’d hoped He’d show up to bury Lazarus. He didn’t. By the time He finally made it to Bethany, Lazarus had been buried for four days and Martha was wondering what kind of friend Jesus was.

She hears Jesus is at the edge of town, so she heads out to meet Him. With her heart aching and tears running down her cheeks she cries, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” There is hurt in those words. Hurt and disappointment. The one man who could have made a difference didn’t, and Martha wants to know why.

Maybe you do, too. Maybe you’ve done what Martha did. Someone you love ventures near the edge of life, and you turn to Jesus for help. You, like Martha, turn to the only one who can pull a person from the precipice of death. You ask Jesus to give you a hand.

Martha must have thought, “Surely He will come. Didn’t He aid the paralytic? Didn’t He help the leper? Didn’t He give sight to the blind? And they hardly knew Jesus. Lazarus is His friend. We’re like family. I’ve cooked for Him. I’ve cleaned for Him. Doesn’t Jesus come over for the weekend? Doesn’t He eat at our table? When He hears that Lazarus is sick, He’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

But Jesus didn’t come. Lazarus got worse. She watched out the window. Jesus didn’t show. Her brother drifted in and out of consciousness. “He’ll be here, soon, Lazarus,” she promised. “Just hang on.”

But the knock at the door never came. Jesus never appeared. Not to help. Not to heal. Not to bury. And now, four days later, he finally shows up. The funeral is over. The body is buried, and the grave is sealed.

And Martha is hurt. Her words have been echoed in thousands of cemeteries. “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” “If you were doing your part, God, my husband would have survived.” “If you’d done what was right, Lord, my baby would have lived.” “If you really cared, Father, my mother would be sitting with me right now.” “If only you’d heard my prayer, God, my arms would not be empty.”

The grave unearths our view of God. When we face death, our definition of God is challenged. Which, in turn, challenges our faith. Which leads me to ask a grave question. Why is it that we interpret the presence of death as the absence of God? Why do we think that if the body is not healed then God is not near? Is healing the only way God demonstrates his presence?

Sometimes we think so. And as a result, when God doesn’t answer our prayers for healing, we get angry. When relief doesn’t come, we become resentful. When we are allowed to experience pain and sorrow and discomfort, we begin to doubt and question and shake our fist at God. Blame replaces belief. “If you had been here, doing your part, God, then this death would not have happened.”

It’s distressing that this view of God has no place for death. When we see death, we see disaster. When God sees death, he sees deliverance.

Jesus told Martha, “Your brother will rise again,” and she said, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Jesus replied, “You know, Martha, I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” Now comes the pivot point of the whole story. “Do you believe this?” Suddenly everything hushed, and from Jesus’ point of view, the whole turning of the world was pivoting now on her answer to this one question. Had His preliminary teaching work with her borne fruit, or was she still thinking, “I’ve got to see it first and then I’ll believe it.” Was she still a doubting Martha like her friend Tom?

“Do you believe this? That I not only bring resurrection, I am the resurrection. I own the franchise. You want it, you have to come to me – only to me. Whoever believes in me is immortal. In fact, if you believe in me, dying is not really death – it’s just a nap. Do you believe that?”

And He held His breath; He could probably hear His own heart pounding, because He so desperately wanted her to say yes. And she said, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world.”

I challenge you right now: where are you at on this question? You and I are all mortal. Death is coming. It is coming, whether you want it to or not. In researching for this sermon I found a web page at deathclock.com. I entered in my height, weight, date of birth and it gave me the date of my death. October 28, 2064. It’ll be a Tuesday. I’ll be 94 years old. I have only 1 billion 788 million seconds left to live.

Now, not for a single one of the seconds I have left, do I believe in the date that deathclock.com gave me, but the concept is simple. We are all going to die. You can eat unhealthy, smoke, and drink and take time off of your life. You can eat healthier, watch your cholesterol, exercise regularly, and have physical exams that may help to lengthen your stay in this world.

Still, how many funerals do you have to go to for the elderly or young adults or even children, to get the idea through your head that nothing is guaranteed regarding your length of life on this earth? What will you do? You can pretend that that day will never come; you can distract yourself; you can get so busy you don’t think about it; you can compete and try to armor yourself with props to make yourself feel immortal and invincible. You can work out physically and be the strongest person that anybody has ever seen. You can drug yourself so the pain and the fear go away. You can eat pills or drink certain liquids that will make you forget and get you distracted – you can do that. Still, death will come. And it will stress you out.

I have a better way. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who came into our world. Because of His death on Calvary’s cross and His resurrection from the Easter grave, death no longer has any mastery over you. Because of your inborn and actual sins, you will all die. But because of your faith in your Resurrected Redeemer, you will all live. 

When we lived in Kentucky, we would go to CiCi’s Pizza for all you can eat pizza buffet. On Friday nights at CiCi’s they had a magician entertain the children while we ate. Simple sleight-of-hand stuff. My older two girls were amazed. When the coin disappeared, they gapsed. When it reappeared, they were stunned. At first I was humored by their bewilderment. But with time, my bewilderment became concern. I knew it was only an act, but part of me didn’t like to see my kids being duped. I’m a protective father. The magician was tricking them. I didn’t like seeing my children fooled.

So I whispered to my daughters. “It’s in his sleeve.” “It’s behind his ear.” Maybe I was rude to interfere with my children’s enjoyment of the show, but I don’t enjoy watching a trickster pull one over on my children.

Neither does God. Jesus couldn’t bear to sit and watch the bereaved be fooled. He had to pull back the curtain and reveal the truth about death.

In every instance where Jesus raised someone back from the dead, his heart went out to them. He had compassion on those left behind. When Jesus saw Lazarus’ tomb, he wept. When Jairus begged for Jesus to come, Jesus came. When he saw the widow crying, Jesus had to do something to help her.

In every instance Jesus demonstrated loving compassion. Not for the dead, but for the living, the remaining. The young man was better off in heaven, but his mother needed him. The little girl was better off in her heavenly Father’s arms, but her earthly father wanted just one more hug. Lazarus was better off in his heavenly home, but his earthly home felt empty without him. And so Jesus heart went out to the grieving, and he did something to take away their grief.

Jesus finally arrived. He told the people to roll the stone away from the grave. Martha protested that her brother would stink something awful. Jesus paid no attention to her and then he said in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”

The mourners were silent. No one stirred as Jesus stood face to face with the rock-hewn tomb and demanded that it release his friend. No one stirred, that is except Lazarus. Deep within the tomb, he moved. His stilled heart began to beat again. Wrapped eyes popped open. Stiff fingers lifted. Joints frozen in rigor mortis move again. And a mummied man in a tomb sat up. Do you want to know what happened next?

Let John tell you. “The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.” Lazarus walked out of the grave, peeling those grave clothes off. Now, he may have needed a shower, but he was alive.

Question: What’s wrong with this picture? Answer: Dead men don’t walk out of tombs. Question: What kind of God is this? Answer: The kind of God who holds the keys to life and death. The kind of God who rolls back the sleeve of the trickster and reveals death for the parlor trick that it is. The kind of God you want present at your funeral.

He’ll do it again, you know. He promised he would. And He’s shown He can. “Because I live, you too will live.” (John 14:19) Then, on that great day of the final resurrection, we who were once dead will be able to look around at each other and exclaim, “Look, you’re moving! He’s moving! I’m moving, too! This is awesome!” “For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.” (1 Thessalonians 4:16) The same voice that awoke the man in Nain, that stirred the still daughter of Jairus, that awakened the corpse of Lazarus – the same voice will speak again. The earth and the sea will give up their dead. There will be no more death.

In case you missed it, Brett Favre retired. Lazarus died. For fans of both, it had been a rough week. An announcement. Disbelief. Doubt. Realization. Numbness. Shock. Crying, moaning, wailing, mourning. Denial. Bargaining. Depression. Anger. Finally acceptance. Most of the state of Wisconsin felt that way. Mary and Martha surely felt that way. Brett Favre may not be coming back. Lazarus did. And do will you. Jesus made sure of that. Amen.