Looking past the "felt board perspective"

Lazarus. He died. Jesus raised him. And everything in between. I never realized how many elements there are to this story, and still cannot wrap my mind around it all. I must admit, in the past I have had a bad habit of reading the Word from the "felt board perspective". Of course, I would never miss the big parts of the stories; such as, the actual resurrection of Lazarus. But God has really been challenging me to see the story as a whole. To read intentionally. To be in the story. I mean, these were actual people. Humans. Humans with feelings that I feel! All the little, unwritten details are just as important in these stories as the climax that the Sunday school lessons are dubbed after.

I know we have all heard that before, but it's been such a prevailing movement in my life these past few weeks that I just wanted to share it. So, here are just a few of the points that have shaken up this story for me:

"He whom You love"

For starters, John opens the story with Mary and Martha sending someone to tell Jesus that the one who He loves is ill (John 11:3). The one whom He loves. The disciple who Jesus loved. The one He loves. John uses phrases like this over and over, mostly referring to himself, but now to Lazarus. I just love that. It captures the relational aspect of Christ. It allows us to see that when He was on Earth, He built outstanding, to-the-core relationships. He didn't waste any time. He built the kind of relationships that warmed the heart and fabricated tears (11:35).

Not only should our hearts swell at the idea that God wants that with us, but it should also humble us in the fact that our relationships are not that profound. If even Christ, in His short time on Earth, with the most important and expansive mission, made time to love like that, then what does that say about our fickle, dependent, consequential "friendships"?

Death is not a destination

Then, the very next verse Jesus responds, "This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it" (11:4). He says from the very beginning that death is not the end.

Maybe it's not death that you're facing, but a broken heart. Bankruptcy. Unemployment. Student loans. Depression. Divorce. Unfaithfulness. Loneliness. Worthlessness. And the list goes on. Straight from the mouth of Jesus, we're comforted with the fact that there is more to come.

This is a concept that Paul understood with such entirety, that he seemed completely fearless. In Philippians 1, where he pens from a Roman jail cell, he says, "Yes, and I will continue to rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance." He understood that his imprisonment was not the end of the story.

God's plan is so intricate and well-woven, that not even death is absolute. And we can rest assured that no matter what happens in our lives, there is still a plan. No matter who conspires against us, God is with us. No matter what we are facing, there is good to come.

Martha's expectations

We do see Martha express emotions of anger or contempt with Jesus when she says, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (vs. 21). But the rest of the passage makes me wonder if some part of Martha was patronizing Jesus. To me (and I could be wrong), it sounds as if she is being political with her words. As if she is expecting something great from Jesus, but doesn't want to come across as presumptuous. Which, to this I can relate.

I have found myself stepping around an elephant in my prayers, so not as to offend God. I feel as though this is what Martha is doing when she says to Jesus, "I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day" (vs. 24). The Sunday school answer. Politics. And though it sounds so bad, it makes me excited, because I feel a hint of expectation in her responses.

Man, I try to put myself in her shoes at this point. I just don't know that I could get past the fact that Jesus didn't come to heal him, to expect what could come of this. I'm sure Martha was mad, bitter, heartbroken, and on the verge of losing composure. I can almost feel the tightness in her throat as she looks at Jesus, knowing that He could have saved Lazarus; the effort she gives to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, as she fights through the emotions; the shaking in her knees as she stands before the man that could have saved her brother from death.

Even with all of that emotion and pain going on, she is able to see possibility. She is able to respond to Jesus with trust and belief. That simply astounds me, and I can only pray that I could be as faithful and trusting as she was in a situation where death seems like the end.

The empathy of Christ

Mary runs to Jesus with the same expression as Martha in verse 21, but follows it with tears--laying every emotion at the feet of Jesus. And Jesus "was deeply moved in spirit and troubled" (vs. 33). He felt her pain. Only then to join in Mary and the fellow Jews' weeping (vs. 35).

What a beautiful reminder to know that when we fall in pain at His feet, He mourns with us. Not only with us, but for us also. No, He does not delight in our sorrows. They pain Him as well. He is hurting with us. And He doesn't always take it away, but the amazing thing is that He knows, understands, and feels what we're going through, and promises never to leave our side (Isaiah 42:16).

Christ's authority:Lazarus' obedience

Finally, the following is an excerpt from my Tyndale Study Bible:

"Even when the curtain of death was between them, Lazarus responded to Jesus' voice."

All Jesus said was, "Lazarus, come out" (vs. 43). There was simply a prayer to God (vs. 41), followed by a command. A power like that cannot be denied. We must be intentional in showing Christ the same respect and obedience that Lazarus and death itself shows Him in this passage.