John 11:1–44

When the Spirit of God speaks of places down here, we see what it is that gives them their importance. Bethany was the town of Mary and Martha, and Lazarus, whom Jesus loved. That is how places on earth become interesting; some whom Jesus loves are living there. "The LORD loves the gates of Zion more than all the dwelling places of Jacob." "And of Zion it shall be said, 'This one and that one were born in her.'"

The two verses that open this chapter show that John wrote this Gospel when the other Gospels were well known. He names Bethany as the town of Martha and Mary, and he assumes his readers know the women better than the village.

You might suppose that sorrow, sickness, and death would never touch such a favoured household. Anyone who thinks so does not know that Messiah the Prince was also the Man of Sorrows. And where He is the Guest, it should be no surprise if afflictions come along with Him.

This was the brother of the Mary who anointed the Lord. Yet being related to that famous woman did not make him immune from suffering… What a boundless blessing to be loved by Jesus — but even this did not keep sickness away. The work of divine love is not to guarantee freedom from suffering, but to make it serve the divine end.

The reader will notice that in this beautiful scene there is no record of any clash between Martha and Mary. Each had her place to fill. There was room for both. "Jesus loved Martha and her sister." Here Martha comes first. In verse 1 we read of "Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha." From God's standpoint, no one has any reason to clash with another in the smallest degree. And there is no need whatever to compare one person's sphere with another's. If Christ is our one absorbing object, there will be lovely harmony in action, though our line of things may differ.

Here we begin with what was most characteristic of our Gospel — His divine Sonship displayed in resurrection power… It was John's place, above all, to mark Him out as Son of God. The Holy Spirit does this by giving us the resurrection of Lazarus in his Gospel. In resurrection Christ is the life-giving Spirit, in contrast with Adam. But He is the Son from all eternity, and the Son gives life to whom He will, before death no less than after resurrection.

What happened at Bethany, with its touching and moving details, shows how God weaves the golden threads of His purpose into the darkest fabric of the lives of His saints. It was surely written to comfort His own people who must face what may be the bitterest sorrow of this valley of tears.

The family at Bethany had learned the love of Jesus so well that, with the confidence such love gives, they draw on His love in the day of their trial. The sisters do not ask the Lord to come, nor do they suggest that He should heal their brother. With simple confidence in the love of the Lord, they spread their sorrow before Him. Neither do they plead their love nor the love of Lazarus to the Lord, but they plead the Lord's love to Lazarus. Their confidence in the Lord and His love is such that, having made their trouble known and pleaded His love, they know they can safely leave themselves in His hands.

It was not their love for the Lord or the love of Lazarus for Him that they pleaded, but His love. His love was sure. It could not be questioned. It had flowed out to them without limit; they knew it and had experienced it. It was the cause and the strength of their confidence in Him.

John 11:5 states plainly the place the little circle at Bethany held in the heart of the Lord Jesus: "Jesus loved (agapao) Martha..." But the sisters' appeal in verse 3 rests on what they had the best right to know — the Lord's personal affection for their brother: "he whom you love (phileo) is ill." This is what strikes the Jews when they see Him weep: "See how he loved (phileo) him!"

They spoke with Christ freely. Even so, there was no undue familiarity, no forgetting the great difference between Him and them. "Lord" was the message. Then they told Him how things stood with Lazarus. They asked for nothing, they suggested nothing. They told Him the fact, and left it there, still sure that His love would not fail them at such a time. They counted on it.

It was not an insistent, passionate petition. It was calm and restful, sure that their message would stir the Lord's concern at once. It rose above the prayer of the leper: "Lord, if you will, you can make me clean." Surely the leper had not gone beyond faith in the Lord's power, while the sisters knew and believed His love as well as His power.

How infinitely blessed to be someone Jesus loves! But even this did not give immunity from sickness. The work of divine love is not to guarantee freedom from suffering, but to make it serve the divine end.

He had healed the official's son at Capernaum while He Himself was miles away from that city. He could have healed Lazarus at Bethany in the same way, had He pleased, while He was still beyond the Jordan. But He did not. The messenger carried the message and came back, with no promise that the Lord would come to Bethany, and no promise that the sick man would be healed.

Now it was a very simple message, but a very touching one. Those sisters would say to each other, He will be sure to come as soon as our message reaches Him. But He did not come. Perhaps you have been praying for something and the answer has not come. Something else has come. The very reverse of what you were praying for. God does not always answer our prayers according to the terms of them. And I think it is an immense mercy.

Jesus' love was trusted here, and Jesus did love them all: "This illness does not lead to death." Not that the illness was not deadly in character. Not that it did not in fact produce death and end in death. He knew it did. But that was not the final result. God allowed the evil for His own glory — that is, so that He might triumph over it for the creature, and do so in the Person of the Son, so that the Son of God might be glorified by it. … So it was mercy to let the evil have its full results, though painful mercy, because that gave us full ground to be sure of God's love through it all.

So here the Lord knew the end from the beginning when He said, "This illness does not lead to death." But anyone quick to judge by the beginning was bound to judge wrong. What would that man have thought when he heard Him say, "Lazarus, come out," and saw the dead man walk out of the burial cave?

He could have healed him, but He waited, and His glory shone out beside a grave of death and decay. It is not ascension and glory that mark out the Son of God, but resurrection.

God let things take their course, as we say. He let death enter that much loved home. But all of this was for the glory of God. The enemy looked as if he had it all his own way, but that was only appearance. In reality death itself was building the platform on which God would display His glory.

The key to the chapter is verse 4. That is a magnificent word. That was God's purpose. If we look at outward things, at sorrows and trials, apart from God's aim in sending them, we fall short of God's thoughts about us and of our link with His glory. In this chapter the glory of the Son cannot be separated from the glory of God Himself.

God gave the strongest proof of His power in Christ's resurrection. Yet we already see that same divine power in the raising of Lazarus, and we will see it again in the resurrection of all saints. He was, and is, the resurrection and the life. The power of resurrection is the proof that He is Son of God.

Many a sickness that comes on the people of God is in no way discipline for sin. As with Lazarus, it is for the glory of God (John 11:4). Still, God does deal with His people as the One who governs them. If we see a fellow believer whom God is disciplining by some sickness because of a particular sin, we can pray for him, as long as the sin is not a sin that leads to death.

We need spiritual discernment about this kind of dealing from our God. People are too quick, like the friends of Job, to read God's hand on a person as a sign that He is dealing with that person for some sin or evil course.

What a blessing to stand beside a friend's sick bed and say, "This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God!" And this is faith's privilege. Yes, and not only in the sick room but at the open grave, the true believer may see the beams of God's glory shining over it all.

Strange it must have seemed to them, when He had received their message, "He stayed two days longer in the place where He was." He did not move. He waited until the sickness had done its work and Lazarus lay dead. What a test that must have been to their confidence in Him. We may be sure that the devil was not far away from them. As those days dragged slowly by, he would suggest that their trust had been misplaced. He would suggest that Jesus could not deal with that special kind of sickness, or, worse still, that He had stopped caring. It was then that the Holy Spirit gives us this telling comment: "Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus." No lack or loss of love kept Him from them. Indifference did not make Him delay. It was the perfection of His love, the wisdom of it. He had something in store for them which was infinitely better than the best they had expected of Him.

It was not His custom to receive the requests for help addressed to Him this way. Usually the answers came swift, and sure, and abounding. A woman touched Him in the crowd. A Roman officer sent Him a message. A Syro-Phoenician woman cried out to Him. Each one got an immediate and fitting reply. But the desire of these, His very dear friends, received no direct response.

It is hard to think it good when the Lord does not stop the evil we dread. It is hard when He does not come the first time love asks Him. The evil may even have come from our own unbelief or sin. Yet we hold this wrong confidence in Jesus' love: that He must be at our beck and call to remove it. Surely He has indeed made Himself our Servant from first to last, but in His wisdom (for that is love), not ours… When the right time has come, He is as ready to go at all cost… He offers to come at cost at the wise moment, and that proves it was no lack of love that held Him back or delayed Him.

His staying in the same place for two days was not the impulse of human feeling. In the same way, His going to the place of deadly hatred followed the light He walked in and was… He lives in dependence. He waits for His Father's will. When His Father gives it, it settles His movements at once.

Then we learn that He stayed the two days for the blessing of His disciples. The Lord says, "For your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe." This crushing sorrow had overtaken the two sisters. It would become the occasion of glory to the Father and blessing for the two sisters in their loss. It would also lead to the blessing of others.

Yet He paused. The enemy might throw in all sorts of suggestions, and their own hearts might invent all sorts of reasonings… But there is a divine remedy for all the heart's reasonings, and a triumphant answer to all the enemy's dark and horrible suggestions. What is it? Unshaken confidence in the eternal stability of the love of Christ.

His delays in answering prayer are always because of a love that is wiser than we understand.

He had come to do the Father's will. So we see Him here waiting on that will, governed wholly by it, and not by His own affections, pure and perfect as they were. He had received the touching appeal — an appeal to His heart: "Lord, he whom you love is ill." Even so, He would not move until the Father's appointed time had come. How differently we often act! Would it not be enough for most of us to hear that someone in need wanted us there, someone bound to us by close ties? Let us learn that there is a higher region than even the promptings of the tenderest affection. The will of God is the Christian's only law.

During these two days He had received no direction from His Father to go to Bethany. He loved this family, and the two sisters reminded Him of it. Still He stays where He was, without stirring. Then His Father made His will known to Him, and He goes without hesitation to the place of danger He had left. The light of day was on His path, the light of His Father's will. There He always walked.

Love is glad to be called on, and will not disappoint the confident appeal of faith. At the same time, divine love acts according to divine wisdom. It acts, at times, in a way that seems so strange and contrary to the way of human love and human prudence... Human love would have gone at once; human prudence would never have gone at all. Whether He stays or goes, Jesus does not act by the thoughts of nature. He depends on the Father's will and acts according to it.

Such delays are a great trial to faith and patience. But He was teaching them to wait for His time, and for Him alone. We cannot hurry Him.

He who was God, and loved as no man ever did, stayed two days where He was. Then He calmly said to the disciples, "Let us go to Judea again." They wonder. Did He not know better than they the murderous hatred of the Jews? Had He forgotten how often they had tried to stone Him? Why then did He propose to go there again? He was here to do the will of His Father; and here was a work to do for His glory. His eye was always undivided, His whole body full of light.

The Lord had chosen the twelve disciples so that they might be "with Him." They were His personal attendants, and He kept joining them with Himself in His service... During His travels we often find Him graciously including them with Himself when He spoke of what He meant to do next. For example: "Let us go to Judea again" (John 11:7); "Let us go across to the other side" (Mark 4:35); "See, we are going up to Jerusalem" (Matt. 20:18).

It is faith alone that can move along the path where Jesus leads. To mere nature that path is dreadful. It is rough, dark, and lonely. Even those standing around our blessed Lord when Lazarus died seemed quite unable to grasp His thoughts or to follow His steps with understanding. When He said, "Let us go to Judea again," they could think only of the Jews stoning Him. When He said, "I go to awaken him," they replied, "Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will recover."

A title of respect among the Jews, meaning "master, teacher." It was applied to the Lord, though often translated "master."... Jesus forbade the disciples to be called Rabbi, for one was their Master, even Christ.

He who was God, and loved as no man ever did, stayed two days where He was. Then He calmly said to the disciples: Let us go to Judea again. They wonder. Did He not know better than they how murderous the hatred of the Jews was? Had He forgotten their repeated attempts to stone Him? Why then did He propose to go there again? He was here to do the will of His Father; and here was a work to do for His glory.

They had seen Him calm a great storm, overthrow the power of demons, and even break the power of death. But when men tried to murder Him, He used no power at all. He simply escaped out of their hands and withdrew beyond the Jordan River. They felt that He was safe there and that they were safe with Him. And when He proposed to return to Judea they thought it a very foolish thing to do, and asked in surprise why He was going back.

His disciples, in the timidity of unbelief, bring in their human fears, and would talk Him out of returning to Judea; there is a lion in the way! ... The precious, tender love of His human heart could not move Him towards Judea until He had the Lord's word in His ear. And now no fear of Jewish hatred or of Satan's opposition will hold Him back from going. The will of Him who sent Him had fallen on His opened ear, and that is enough.

Human love, thinking only of relieving the sick one, would have set off at once for Bethany. Human prudence, thinking only of self, would never have gone at all — as the disciples' question shows. The Lord, rising above both human love and human prudence, acts according to divine love moved by divine wisdom.

The disciples do not understand the motives that governed the Lord. They wonder, not so much at His delay, but at His decision to return to the land where the Jews had so recently sought to stone Him. They were looking at circumstances and speaking by the light of natural prudence. The Lord was walking in the light of the Father's will, and so there were no stumbling steps in His path. We at times, looking only at circumstances, stumble and stray: our way is uncertain and dark. It is only as we spread all our difficulties before the Lord, looking only to Him, and seeking to walk according to His will, that we shall walk in the light.

Suppose He had gone off two days earlier — He would have been walking in the night, because He had no word for it. That was an impossibility with Him! When He went, He had the word, He walked in the light, and never stumbled. This is what I long for in my own heart, and for all believers — this nearness to the Lord. May we walk so close to Him that, when we have to go somewhere, we put our hand in His and do not take the wrong street. There is always a right street and a wrong one in every journey.

If it was the will of the Father, it was day. Jesus was not only sent by the living Father; He also lived because of Him. So for the disciple He is the light and the food and the motive. The known will and word of God is the light of day; to be without it is to walk in the night, and stumbling is the sure consequence.

And so, just as He would not be moved by the precious, tender love of His human heart to go toward Judea until He had the Lord's word in His ear, so on the other hand He will not be held back from returning there by any fear of Jewish hatred or Satanic opposition. The will of Him who sent Him had fallen upon His opened ear, and that is enough.

His every step, His every act, His every word had direct reference to the claims of the Father's glory. Deep personal affection did not take Him to Bethany, and no personal fear could keep Him away. In all He did, and in all He did not do, He found His motive in the glory of God.

"The day" was the time of Jesus' presence in this world as the Light of the world. When the time of service is ended, our departure is equally clear.

There is this distinction. The one who walks in the day has the light of the world. The one walking in the night has no light in himself: it is night, and all is total darkness. It is never said that we have light in ourselves. We have no light in ourselves; but the one who has the light walks in the light — as the believer does — in the Light of this world, Christ.

He not only saw the light, He was the Light of the world — not merely a child of light, but the Fountain of light. His disciples, however, are slow to hear. They neither recognise the voice of the Son of God nor see the path of the light of life. They judge that death for Himself, rather than life for others, lay ahead.

So long as He had a work for Paul to do, no one could injure him or frustrate His purpose. And so it has been throughout the whole history of the church, and will be: afflicted, but not hemmed in; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. Her confidence through it all is the same as her Lord's: there are twelve hours in the day, and if she walks in the light of His will, no one can injure her or make her stumble.

Apply them to Christ, and to our own path too. He saw the light, and He walked in it. Suppose He had gone two days earlier — He would have been walking in the night, because He had no word for it. That was impossible for Him! When He went, He had the word, He walked in the light, and never stumbled. This is what I long for in my own heart, and for all believers: this nearness to the Lord. May we walk so close to Him that if we have to go to a certain place, we can put our hand in His and not go by the wrong street. There is always a right street and a wrong one in every journey.

"Are there not twelve hours in the day?" were the words of Jesus. He had to suffer, and so may we; but is it the way there — the way to the home my affections are set on? This settles every question and delivers from ten thousand sorrows. The strength of God holds me up in it; the love of God carries me through.

If it was the will of the Father, it was day. Jesus was not only sent by the living Father; He also lived because of Him. In the same way, for the disciple He is the light and the food and the motive. The known will and word of God is the light of day; to be without it is to walk in the night, and stumbling is the sure consequence. If Christ is before us, the light will be in us, and we do not stumble. May we always heed His word!

Here is the distinction. The one who walks in the day has the light of the world. But the one who walks in the night has no light in himself. It is night, and all is in complete darkness. It is never said that we have light in ourselves. We have no light in ourselves. But the one who has the light walks in the light — and this is the believer — in the Light of this World, Christ, the living One who obeys God's will, as the Image of His Person. That was the state of the Jews after they rejected Him. They went on in darkness, though they thought they were walking and tried to walk. They had no light in them. The disciples were different: they had the light with them.

What do verses 9, 10 mean? Apply them to Christ, and to our own path too. He saw the light, and He walked in it. Suppose He had gone off two days before — He would have been walking in the night, because He had not the word for it. That was an impossibility with Him! When He went, He had the word, He walked in the light, and never stumbled. This is what I long for in my own heart, and for all believers: this nearness to the Lord. May we walk so close to Him that when we have to go somewhere, we put our hand in His and so do not take the wrong street.

The disciples did not understand the motives that governed the Lord. They wonder at His delay, but even more at His decision to return to the land where the Jews had just tried to stone Him. They were looking at circumstances and speaking according to the light of natural prudence. The Lord was walking in the light of the Father's will, and so there were no stumbling steps in His path. At times we look only at circumstances. Then we stumble and stray, and our way is uncertain and dark. We shall walk in the light only as we spread all our difficulties before the Lord, look to Him alone, and seek to walk according to His will.

A man must have light to guide him. If he walks on without light from heaven, he is sure to stumble. Christ walked in the day. We see what that means, lived out in full perfection in Him. That is how the Shepherd goes before the sheep! He walks in heavenly light. He teaches us to walk in the same path, but He walks in it first Himself.

One thing stands out in the chapter and holds you by its charm. It is the friendliness of our Lord, and the wisdom of that friendliness. There was a circle at Bethany where He was free and at home. It was He who said, "Our friend Lazarus" — not your friend, or My friend, but "our friend." That happy circle took the disciples in. Where friendship is true and real there is no restraint, and a friend may be better than a brother. We do not tell our secrets to strangers. To a friend we love and trust we tell our deepest thoughts and unload our cares. Friendship rests on confidence and love.

"Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep." It was only a gentle sleep. Death is not death in the presence of the Prince of life. The grave is only a sleeping place. "I go to awaken him." He could not have said that if Lazarus were being raised from a sick-bed.

It is important to notice that here, as everywhere, the word sleep applies to the body. It is the suited word of faith for death. How dark is the unbelief that twists it, as some do, into making the soul something material! He who is the truth speaks of the thing as it really is. He knew that He was about to raise Lazarus.

The Lord said Lazarus had fallen asleep, and that He was going to wake him. Then He went to the grave where Lazarus was, and called with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." If it was the spirit of Lazarus that slept, why not go where his spirit was? Why go to where the body was?

He says, "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep." He speaks as if He had been sitting by the bedside, watching. And with what sovereign calmness! In the middle of all their anxieties there was One who they thought was neglecting them. His eye was watching there, and He saw the eyelids closing. All of this was so that He might show them, and us as well, the full power of His love.

This, then, was the reason why Jesus kept away from His beloved friends. He waited for the fitting moment. That moment came when Lazarus had already lain in the grave four days. Every human hope had vanished. Every human effort was powerless and worthless. "I go" — not to raise him from a sick-bed, but "to awaken him." The stage was cleared of every human prop, so that the glory of God might shine out in all its brightness. "Man's extremity is God's opportunity," and it is easy to see that the grave gave God a far better opportunity than a sick-bed.

When death comes to the Christian it is only sleep — sleep for the body until the Lord wakes it at His coming. That is why Scripture says of Stephen, "And when he had said this, he fell asleep" (Acts 7:60).

So Lazarus is a picture of the saints who will be "asleep" when Christ comes. Others besides Lazarus were dead and lying in their tombs at Bethany. But the Lord spoke to only one — the one He knew and loved. He made a selection among those who were in the grave. And when the Lord comes down from heaven with a shout, only those who know that voice will answer.

When the Lord said to His disciples, "Our friend Lazarus is asleep, but I go that I may awake him out of sleep," they replied, "Lord, if he sleeps, he will do well." That is literally "he will be saved." They used a related word — the verb formed from the same root as "Saviour."

Jesus spoke this way because death took on this character in His eyes. The power of resurrection and of life was in Him. The apostles apply His words literally to natural sleep, so He explains them.

The Lord begins to show what He was about to do. But they were slow to think of death on the one hand, or of His resurrection power on the other. Preventing death, healing disease, falls far short of triumph over death. The disciples were to be strengthened by the sight of resurrection before He died on the cross and rose again.

What touching affection! What gracious intimacy! What a tender linking of Himself with the family of Bethany on the one hand, and His disciples on the other! "Our friend Lazarus sleeps." It was only a gentle sleep. Death is not death in the presence of the Prince of life. The grave is only a sleeping place. He could not have said such words if Lazarus had been raised from a sick-bed. "Man's extremity is God's opportunity," and it is easy to see that the grave gave God a far better opportunity than a sick-bed.

Here, as everywhere, sleep refers to the body. It is the fitting word of faith for death. How dark is the unbelief that twists it, as some do, into making the soul something material! He who is the truth speaks of things as they really are. He knew He was about to raise Lazarus.

They did not understand what the Lord said. But their ignorance, as always, becomes the occasion of our knowledge. Here our Lord shows plainly that He meant Lazarus's death when He said he "sleeps." And so the common expression is the expression of truth: he "fell asleep," "those who sleep in Jesus," and the like.

Many passages in the New Testament describe the death of the Christian as sleep. No other word in English says so much about quietness, peace and rest, and about the absence of weariness and worry. Sleep is the word chosen by the Holy Spirit to describe the death of the Christian. How well we may say, as the disciples did, "Lord, if he sleeps, he will do well." Yes, indeed, the one who sleeps through Jesus does well. On the other side of such a sleep there is eternal life, strength that never fades, the presence of the Lord, and the day of God's everlasting favour that will never know a night.

It is the Holy Spirit who, through John, gives us this commentary on the Lord's words. Such commentary is not peculiar to this place, but a recurring feature of John's Gospel. For other examples see John 2:21; 7:39; 11:13; 12:33; 21:19, 23. The misunderstanding of the Lord's words is carefully noted, and their real meaning is set out.

Jesus spoke this way because death took on this character in His eyes. The power of resurrection and of life was in Him. The apostles applied His words literally to natural sleep, so He explains them.

"Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep." It was only a gentle sleep. Death is not death in the presence of the Prince of life. The grave is only a sleeping place.

The Lord begins to reveal what He was about to do. But they were slow to think of death on the one hand, or of His resurrection power on the other. Preventing death, or healing disease, falls far short of triumph over death. Seeing resurrection would strengthen the disciples before He died on the cross and rose again.

It is important to notice that here, as everywhere, sleep is said of the body. It is the fitting word of faith for death. How dark is the unbelief that twists it, as some do, into making the soul material! He who is the truth speaks of the thing as it really is.

The Lord says of Lazarus, "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awaken him." Then He went to the grave where Lazarus was, and called with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." If it was the spirit of Lazarus that slept, why not go where his spirit was? Why go where the body was? Since our Lord by His death has removed the sting, which is sin, we are only said to sleep when we die.

They did not understand what the Lord said. But their ignorance, as always, becomes the occasion of our knowledge. Here our Lord shows plainly that He meant his death when He said he "sleeps." And so the common expression is the expression of truth: he "fell asleep," "those who sleep in Jesus," and the like. Sleep only closes the memory on the sorrows of the world now past. Then we wake up in fresh strength for a day that will never wear it out.

He speaks so quietly that they do not understand Him. The shadow of death lies on all their souls, but the thought of sleep is not even a shadow. "Lord," they say, "if he has fallen asleep, he will recover." So He comes down to their everyday language: "Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe." How little like faith their mood was! "But let us go to him."

But the Lord Who tries faith meets the weakness of His disciples, and clears up the difficulty. He tells them plainly, "Lazarus has died." He says He is glad for their sake that He was not there — not there, that is, simply to heal — so that they would believe, once they better knew His power to give life and raise the dead.

Jesus spoke like this, because death took this character in His eyes, the power of resurrection and of life being in Him.

Notice that here, as everywhere, sleep refers to the body. It is the suited word of faith for death: how dark the unbelief that twists it, as some do, to make the soul material! He Who is the truth speaks as the thing really is. He knew that He was about to raise Lazarus.

"But let us go to him" completed what the Lord had to say. "Go to him" He said. Lazarus was dead. But Lazarus had not ceased to exist. He was still a living creature, though not in his body. Lazarus was sleeping. He would go to awake him out of sleep. Death does not end a person's existence, as the dying thief learnt, who was to be with Christ after death in paradise.

Whatever the Saviour's thoughts were, and however hard circumstances pressed on His soul, they never overcame Him. They never held back the most perfect love. "For your sake I am glad that I was not there" (v. 15). If it was a trial to Him to seem lacking in love for these poor women, He was still perfectly obeying His Father's will, which is confirmed here. And in the middle of the deep exercises of His heart — the power of life and all the weight of death meeting in His mind — He rejoiced at the good the disciples were about to gain from it.

Then we learn that He stayed those two days for the blessing of His disciples, for the Lord says, "For your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe". This crushing sorrow had overtaken the two sisters. It would bring glory to the Father and blessing to the two grieving sisters, and it would also lead to the blessing of others.

But had he really died? Had life left his body? The Lord announced the fact of his death two days after the messenger had reported his illness (14). The sisters were sure that Lazarus had died (21, 32). The Jews in the company of Mary testified to it (37). And four days had he been dead and buried (17, 39). So no one could deny the miracle. If Lazarus came forth from the tomb, it was the Lazarus who had died.

But man is a poor judge of divine love, and even saints learn it only by faith. Jesus will have us trust His love… If a mere man, with power to heal, loved someone who was sick, how quickly he would have healed the patient! And Jesus had already shown His power to heal in that same hour. No matter what the distance in between, or how unconscious the sufferer, why not speak the word on behalf of Lazarus? Did He love the nobleman of Capernaum and his boy, did He love the Gentile centurion and his servant, better than Lazarus? Certainly not. It was for the glory of God, so that the Son of God might be glorified by that very sickness. He did not stop it; He let it run its course.

He says, "for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe," because He was going to raise him from the dead. Healing would have been no such proof of His divine sonship. It is just what they all say, "Could not this man, who opened the eyes of the blind, have kept this man from dying?" But there Lazarus was, dead, and the question was the power of the Son of God who raises the dead.

The Lord meets the disciples' confusion of thought by plainly stating, "Lazarus is dead." Then we learn that His waiting the two days was for the blessing of His disciples… This crushing sorrow that had overtaken the two sisters would bring glory to the Father, and blessing to the two grieving sisters. It would also lead to the blessing of others.

In all of this He thought of the need of His disciples, as He wanted them to see the glory of His divine person. What a heart is Yours, blessed Lord! Your own death was also ahead, and still at such a moment You express Your love for Your poor disciples! And You are always the same — the same to us as to them.

He was glad that He had not been there — for the sake not only of Lazarus and his sisters, but of the disciples. If He had been there, no doubt Lazarus would not have died (vv. 21, 32). But he had to die if the Lord was to show His resurrection power in him, and stir up real faith in His own.

How blind unbelief is! It looked for the Saviour's death. Yet at that very moment He was about to raise a dead man from the grave, and so be marked out as Son of God in power. Evil was being allowed to have its way. Yet how blessed to hear our Lord say, "Let us go to him!" It was in the power of One who is the Resurrection and the Life. "Let us also go, that we may die with him" is the best that affection can do, short of the faith of resurrection power.

How this should quiet our hearts in the presence of God when He seems slow to answer our cries! Urgent need or pressing danger is usually demanding and impatient. "Has not God said," we repeat at such times, "that He will hear our prayers? How then is it that we have cried in vain?" Ah, no! we never cry to Him in vain… If the Lord waits, He waits only for His own glory, and our fuller blessing.

The name Thomas means "a twin," and so does Didymus, which John uses three times. Only John tells us anything about him after his call and appointment. His refusal to believe the news of the resurrection has passed into a proverb (John 20:24-31).

Thomas Didymus was not a talkative man like his friend Simon Peter. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak it was to the point, showing the sort of man he was. Only John records his words, and we may be sure that the Holy Spirit who inspired him to write his Gospel had a purpose in that.

"That we may die with him." As in the first edition, "him" here has a small first letter, because its exact meaning is uncertain. Zahn, like Grotius, takes it to mean Lazarus. Most commentators, however, understand it to mean Jesus. See verse 9 and following.

Comparing verse 8 with verse 16 makes it plain, I think, that Thomas expected nothing but death for the Lord from the hatred of the Jews. Since the Lord had decided to go into Judea, Thomas proposed that the disciples should share their Master's fate. No doubt there was love in such a resolve. But how blind unbelief is! It looks for the Saviour's death at the very moment when He was about to be marked out as Son of God in power. He would do it by raising a dead man from the grave! "Let us also go, that we may die with him" is the best that affection can do, short of the faith of resurrection power.

Whatever made him stumble, we see how attached his heart was to Christ. There was a fine devoted heart! But he ought to have known better; he ought to have counted on it that Christ could not die unless He gave Himself up.

Thomas, as often happens with us, cannot rise above the circumstances. He says, "Let us also go, that we may die with Him." The Lord has life before Him; Thomas can only see death. Walking in the light of the Father, the Lord sees life beyond death. Walking under the power of circumstances, Thomas can only see death as the end of life. Still, his words show that even in the darkness of his way his love clings to Christ... The love of Thomas would rather die with Him than live without Him. It is possible to be more intelligent than Thomas, but with less affection.

It looks as though some of them were holding back, but not he. He had cast in his lot with his Master and would share His fortunes in life and in death, whatever others might do... He had affection for Him, there can be no doubt about that, but faith and spiritual intelligence were greatly lacking. Anyway, he would die with his Lord; he meant that, though when the fury of hell began to rage he fled like the rest of them.

John's first reference to Thomas (John 11:16) shows that there is a good measure of affection for Christ in his heart. The next mention, in chapter 14, shows how completely he had missed the greatness of the One whose disciple he was. In chapter 20 he seems, in his disappointment, to have fallen into unbelief... Those precious marks of suffering love made their impact on Thomas. They moved his affections and enlightened his mind. His fervent response, "My Lord and my God," gladdened the heart of Christ. It also showed the full measure of Thomas's recovery.

When He raised the daughter of Jairus, she had only just died. They were carrying the son of the widow of Nain to the grave when the Lord met him and gave him back his life. With Lazarus, death had held its prey for four days. That way the display of divine power in his resurrection would be greater still. There was a second thing as well. Many Jews had come from Jerusalem to comfort Martha and Mary about their brother, so they were ready to be eyewitnesses of the power of Jesus in raising the dead.

But had he really died? Had life left his body? The Lord announced the fact of his death two days after the messenger had reported his illness (14). The sisters were sure that Lazarus had died (21, 32). The Jews in the company of Mary testified to it (37). And four days he had been dead and buried (17, 39). So no one could deny the miracle. If Lazarus came forth from the tomb, it was the Lazarus who had died.

God was ordering all for a bright testimony to His Son. Aeschylus, himself a religious man among the nations, only voiced what they all believed: once a man is dead, he has no resurrection. What had God for those who believe on Jesus? What had Jesus? What is He but the resurrection and the life? It was no question of the last day only. Jesus was there then, the conqueror of death as of Satan.

The delay was deliberate. It gave the sickness time to end in death, and death time to produce decay. Why was this? Here is the answer, for all time, to a question that keeps rising in the hearts of believers. Death was not the real end of this event. The real end was the showing of the glory of God and the glorifying of the Son of God… So what seemed so strange and unexplainable worked out for glory to God and good for men. There was a response of the highest kind in the apparent lack of response on the part of the Lord.

Lazarus had lain four days in the tomb! Death had claimed the body, and decay had claimed it too. Still, One who could say, "I am the resurrection and the life" came into that scene of sorrow. He showed His love by His tears, and His power by His Word. Lazarus heard His call and came out, leaving the tomb and death and decay behind! So He showed Himself to be greater than any other who had appeared on earth. A Man truly, but more than a man!

Human affection would have rushed in to help at once. But by letting death come in first, the raising of Lazarus brought what nothing else could: glory to God, and glory to Christ Himself too… How this should quiet our hearts before God when He seems slow to answer our cries!… We never cry to Him in vain; "The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are open to their prayer." If the Lord waits, He waits only for His own glory, and our fuller blessing.

The 'house of dates,' a village on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives, about 2 miles from Jerusalem, near the road to Jericho. It was where Lazarus, Martha, and Mary lived. In their house the Lord found a resting place, among those whom He loved. They were always ready to welcome Him, and to give Him the best of what they had.

Jesus had healed many other people. But here, close to Jerusalem, in the sight of the Jews, the power of life — divine power in Jesus — was shown at the moment when He was about to die, and in a very striking way… Because Bethany was near Jerusalem, many Jews had gone there to show their sympathy with the dead man's sisters and to comfort them. In this way a crowd of witnesses was brought to the spot. They were there to verify the Lord's wonderful work, to spread the report of it in the holy city, and to establish beyond contradiction that it really happened. This brought on the crisis, which was soon to have a solemn result in the death of the Saviour, according to the counsels and settled purpose of God.

Jerusalem was near Bethany, "and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them concerning their brother." God never gives up His government — and this is the comfort of the faithful heart. He orders everything according to the counsels of His own will, whatever men may think or do. He glorifies Himself even through the seemingly trivial circumstances of human affections.

Taking place so near to Jerusalem, this sign had a deep effect. It moved many to faith, and it stirred the chief priests and Pharisees to a fiercer resolve to kill Him. They had to admit that He had done many signs. Yet they only thought about what these things might do to their own position before the Romans. God was not at all in their thoughts.

But why Bethany? Did He not always find comfort there when He was refused elsewhere? Did He not receive kingly honour there when scorned elsewhere? Did He not feast in the house of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus when others despised Him?… He led His own out as far as Bethany. There He Himself and His love were prized; at Jerusalem they did not value Him.

At this privileged spot He could spend the night surrounded by the developed affections of His people. It lay in the shadow of the city of disasters, near to Jerusalem where He was about to suffer. There He was to be cast out, despised, insulted, spat upon, disowned — the Christ of God! And within two miles was the place where affections welcomed Him, and made room for Him… What a wonderful privilege for God's people to make room for Him in their hearts under the very shadow of that which would wipe out His name if it could!

The time since the death and burial is carefully stated. So is how near the spot was to Jerusalem, and the number of Jews who at that moment had joined Martha and Mary to console them in their sorrow. God was ordering all for a bright testimony to His Son.

Bethany was near Jerusalem, so many Jews had gone there to show their sympathy with the dead man's sisters and to comfort them. In this way a crowd of witnesses was brought to the spot. They would verify the Lord's wonderful work, spread the report of it in the holy city, and establish it as genuine beyond contradiction. This would bring on the crisis which was soon to have a solemn result in the death of the Saviour, according to the counsels and settled purpose of God.

The family must have been held in respect. Many of the Jews had come from the holy city, nearly two miles away, to express their sympathy with the sisters over their brother's death.

Bethany is a wonderful spot in the Scriptures. It is a place of blessing to those who love Christ. It is the place where He lifted the shadow of death from spirits weighed down by the loss of Lazarus. Beloved, it was only two miles from Jerusalem, where He was hated!

What, then, would draw Him back to Judea, under the jurisdiction of Pontius Pilate, to be found again within easy reach of the hostile Jews? The glory of God, and the need of sheep of the flock, were the motives.

There is not only the groan that His Father alone could rightly understand. There are also the tears that Martha, Mary and those around them can in some small measure understand. They are indeed tears of sympathy with the bereaved sisters in their great sorrow. What deep comfort the tears of Jesus have brought to His own in times of bereavement. And how blessed for us to know that He can enter more deeply into the ravages of death than anyone else can.

It may be significant that only Mary's name appears in connection with the Jews who believed. Of the Jews who came to comfort the sisters we read that they "came to Martha and Mary" (verse 19). Perhaps it was the testimony of Mary's life and ways that impressed those Jews. It led them to consider what Jesus did, and so to believe in Him.

Many of the Jews had come to mourn with them over his death. When they saw him raised, they believed on the Lord. But some of the Jews went and told the Pharisees what had taken place. These were the unbelieving ones, we suppose, for not all who came from Jerusalem to Bethany believed on Him at that time.

When Jesus finally came to Bethany, He found that death had done its work: Lazarus had been in the grave four days. Sorrow filled the home of Martha and Mary, and many Jews had come to comfort the sisters in their loss. Martha had been over-active and troubled at the Lord's earlier visit. Faced with this great sorrow, she is restless and distracted. Mary, who had sat at His feet to hear His word, can now sit still in the house to wait for His coming.

Circumstances governed Martha's heart, and the Lord's late arrival sets her at once in action. What would Jesus say? What would He do? Martha had confidence in Him, but she weighed nothing. Mary was more serious. She was used to sitting at the feet of Jesus and listening to the divine testimony that came from His mouth. Perhaps she was more puzzled about why the Lord had not come earlier. But she had more reverence for His Person, and the sense of His divine character moved her more. She stays quietly in the house, waiting until God arranged that she should be found with Jesus.

Martha had certainly been tried as well as Mary. Both used the same words when they came into the Lord's presence, and that shows how the Lord's delay had perplexed them... but Martha had not yet reached the blessed end of the trial, for she is still marked by haste and, we may add, impatience. Mary, on the other hand, had learnt her lesson, and so she could calmly wait for the call of her Lord. Her sorrow was not gone, for her dearest earthly tie had been broken... but her sorrow was now lit up by settled confidence in the Lord.

Martha runs out uncalled. Mary sits in the house until Martha calls her, just as Jesus Himself did not go until God called Him. In a way there was no harm in Martha, as people say, and she meant no evil. But she rushes out from her own feelings instead of waiting for the Lord's call.

Mary, who in the earlier day had listened to His word, can now quietly wait for Him to speak and act... Then she received the word, "The Teacher is here and is calling for you." She acts at once in obedience to that word, for we read, "she rose quickly and went to him."

They were in deep trouble, and in their distress the Lord was their refuge. They rightly turned to Him and spread their trouble out before Him. They said, "he whom you love is ill." The Lord was indeed "a present help," though His help did not come at once. He received the urgent appeal of the sisters. Then we read that "he stayed two days longer in the place where he was." Apparently He was doing nothing. He waited until death closed off all hope in human effort. Nothing was left for the two sisters but to "be still" and learn that God is God.

Martha's faith rose no higher than that He was Messiah, and that God would give Him whatever He asked... Yet when Mary arrived and fell at His feet, she says, like her sister, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."

Mary was no better yet either... It is good to remember this sorrowful fact: when He goes one step beyond what we have generally believed, we have no power in us to receive it.

Martha, always the first to act, meets Him outside the village. She confesses both her faith and her disappointment: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." In what follows, her emotion is stirred by His presence. It goes beyond her actual faith, as the outcome shows.

Martha went and met Him. Seemingly without a moment's pause, her heart blurted out its impatience and its barely hidden reproach: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." This was true, for death could not have happened in the presence of the Lord. On Martha's lips, however, the truth was the expression of her complaint that the Lord had not been there before her brother died.

Both were right in believing there could be no death in the presence of Jesus. But they both erred, along with many more of God's saints. They assumed it would have been better for them if their sorrow had been prevented. If the Lord had come, they reasoned, they would not have lost their brother. But then they would not have seen the glory of God, as the Lord said to Martha: "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" (John 11:40).

But man is a poor judge of divine love, and even saints learn it only by faith… Notice how telling it is that the writer says Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. He says it just before mentioning that He stayed two days where He was after the message came. If a mere man with power to heal loved someone who was sick, how soon he would have healed the patient! … Did He love the official of Capernaum and his boy, or the Gentile centurion and his servant, more than Lazarus? Certainly not. It was for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified by that very sickness — not stopped, but allowed to run its course.

Was there any reproach implied in her opening words? Since Mary used them too, we are inclined to see them as words of lament… Her words seem to imply that she did not understand He was truly a divine Person equal with the Father. For she speaks of Him asking of God. That is a word fitly used of men in relation to God, and men are of course not equal with Him.

The presence of Christ gave her a certain amount of confidence. But it gave her no sense of the power of life in Him who had come into this place of death.

Not that Mary was above the pressure of death any more than others. She repeats what Martha said, but she was of a different spirit in repeating it… But if she still saw in Him only power to preserve, if she had yet to learn that He is the resurrection and the life, at least she fell at His feet, as Martha did not. And the Lord, though He says nothing, will soon answer in deed and in truth.

In what follows, her emotion, stirred by His presence, goes beyond her actual faith. The result shows it: "But even now I know that whatever You ask from God, God will give You." The Lord tests her at once with an assurance of a joy too great for her: "Your brother will rise again." She sinks at once into mere orthodoxy: "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day."

Her faith knew He could have restored Lazarus to health. But she hardly dared to believe that the Lord could restore her brother to life. Yet she acknowledges that the Lord stood in such favour with God. So she can say, "Even now, whatever You ask from God, God will give You."

It is well known that the Greek words we are almost forced to translate "ask" in verse 23 are not the same. The first (ἐρωτάω) expresses familiar entreaty. The second (αἰτέω) expresses lowly petition. So in this Gospel our Lord often uses the first when He asks the Father on behalf of the disciples. He never uses the second. However low He may go down in grace, He is always the conscious Son of God in flesh, yet no less a Divine Person. Martha shows how little she grasps His glory. She supposes that He might rightly and successfully appeal to God as a suppliant does.

She had faith, then — faith at least in the Lord as having power with God, as a prophet like Elisha had. But it is clear she had no idea, even though she had accepted Him as God's Christ, that she was standing before the Son of God. How tenderly the Lord still dealt with her weakness and defective faith! How gently He stooped down to the state He found her in! He led her on to the truth of what He was — that in His own Person He was both the resurrection and the life.

Martha, loved as she was, acted on the impulse of her nature... "I know that even now whatever You ask from God, God will give You." This itself may be a love of the object given rather than of Jesus the Giver. It makes Him the Servant, not the Master, of our blessing. If He makes Himself that, in the riches of His grace, blessed as it will be, blessed be His name! But it was only as an accepted Man with God, the Teacher: "God will give You" — no consciousness of what Jesus was in Himself.

Being a prophet means having the communication of the mind of God. That places one in, and assumes, the intimacy with Him which enables one to ask and receive from Him... Martha was sure Christ was in this position; she did not know or realise His intrinsic living power. And note this. The Christian, so far as he values his place in Christ, is in this position: "If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you."

Here lies the wide difference between Mary and Martha in John 11. Mary found Him her resource when death emptied her heart and her home. Martha looked to Him as the servant of her need. He would lead her higher, to set before her heart Himself, who was the resurrection and the life — but she was not up to this.

The Lord saw right down to the bottom of her heart, with all its conflicting emotions. He pitied His poor servant, and at once He announced the cure for all the sorrow of death in the coming resurrection: "Your brother will rise again." Ah, yes, her unbelief replied, "in the resurrection on the last day." In this she went no further than the common belief of every orthodox Jew.

So He rebukes Martha. Martha had said that God would give Him whatever He asked. He does not accept that. He speaks instead on the authority of His own personal glory: "Your brother will rise again." Nor does He go along with her afterthought, that her brother would rise on the last day. He says to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die."

The Lord tests her at once with the assurance of a joy too great for her: "Your brother will rise again." She sinks at once into mere orthodoxy: "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day."

He answers this simply, "Your brother will rise again" (v. 23). But she can think of this as nothing but the orthodox doctrine of a future general resurrection. How little comfort even true doctrine has in it apart from the person of Christ! Marvellous indeed is His reply, "I am the resurrection and the life." In Him personally is the answer to her every need, as of all creation. "I Am" implies His deity, and resurrection and life are certainly found only in God.

Martha had said to our Lord that she knew her brother would rise again in the resurrection at the last day. She got her eye on an event. Our Lord turned her eye upon Himself.

Here is real faith, a truth she had learnt well. She was not a Sadducee. This is the faith of the Church generally: "He will rise again on the last day." Without doubt. The same thing might be said of the most wicked man.

The command had gone out at the beginning, when it was said to Adam, "You shall die." That power had been felt and acknowledged, and there was no setting it aside. No power could put it away, even for those whom the Lord loved, except a power like the one that sent out the command at the first. By that power alone can death be stopped — by the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the resurrection and the life.

Behind the mysterious wisdom that has allowed such an awful upheaval there is, at the same time, a gracious and sympathetic support richly given by the ascended Lord. He gives this assurance: even if the one He loved may not be restored as Lazarus was, He still says, "Your brother will rise again." For in the fullest sense, "everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die." That is, there is no death, as such, for the Christian.

Yes. But when? Martha replied, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day." Every orthodox Jew held the resurrection of the dead as part of his creed (Hebrews 6:2). Were the Lord's words limited to a future application? He would soon give proof of His real meaning.

Here is real faith, a truth she had learnt well. This is what the church at large believes: "He will rise again on the last day." No doubt about it. The most wicked man could say the same thing.

It may help some readers to remember that "the last day" has a broad moral force. It is like "the day of the Lord" in 2 Peter 3, except that it reaches further. It takes in the resurrection of the saints, which "the day of the Lord" is nowhere said to include. Between John 6:39-40 and John 12:48 comes the thousand years of Revelation 20:4-5. "The last day" begins a little before that and ends a little after. It is a vague, or general, expression for the whole closing scene, when man's day is over and God acts in power, whether in blessing or in judgment.

In each of Martha's replies she stated what was true, but she found no comfort. She lacked the knowledge of the right truth. True comfort rests on the particular truth that suits the circumstances of the moment. For this we must rightly divide the word of truth. This is no question of rule or routine. In our trials and difficulties, the Lord Himself brings out of the Scriptures what will help us right now.

The Lord gives her a definite word to encourage her faith to draw on the resources in Himself. He says, "Your brother will rise again." Martha's faith accepts that there will be a final resurrection, and that on that day her brother will rise again. Like us, she finds it easier to believe what God will do at some distant date than what God can do at the present moment.

Martha had said to our Lord that she knew her brother would rise again in the resurrection at the last day. She had her eye on an event. Our Lord turned her eye on Himself.

Any hint of it passed Martha's thoughts by, though she showed a fair standard of the nation's faith (John 11:24-26). She spoke of a resurrection at the last day. The Lord told her of a power of resurrection in Himself. That power would not wait for the last day. It would act first, in a glorious resurrection that comes before all other resurrections, worthy of Him who is "the resurrection and the life." This was the resurrection of the Lord Himself, a resurrection from the dead. It will also be the resurrection of those who are His — not "on the last day," as Martha or the Jew might once have spoken, but "at his coming," as the Spirit in the church now speaks (1 Corinthians 15:23).

He is the Resurrection, so He will call His sleeping saints out of the tomb. The one who believes in Him, though he die, yet shall he live. He is also the Life. So He will keep all those who are alive when He comes, and they shall never die: "everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die." He is the full answer to all that His saints will need.

The Lord speaks here as already present to bring about the great results of His power. That power was still hidden in His Person, but He was about to give the proof of it in the resurrection of Lazarus. Power is in His Person. He gave the present proof of it in the resurrection of Lazarus. He will carry it out in full when He comes back to use this power in its fulness.

In His presence a dead person should live, since He was the Resurrection. And in His presence a living person should never die, since He gave what is called "life more abundantly" — that is, a life that death cannot touch.

Notice here the order of thought: "lives and believes," not believes and lives. The never dying has to do with the body. In the case described, the body and the soul will never part.

As the Resurrection, He will raise all His sleeping saints when He comes down into the air. As the Life, He will change the mortal and corruptible bodies of His living ones, and make them like His own body of glory. These last will never die at all.

At His coming there will certainly be the most perfect fulfilment of what is said here. But nothing except that fulfilment makes us think of putting the words off to the future. And that goes right against the division of time the Lord is making: "everyone who lives and believes" — now; not, shall be living and believing at My return. He says not a word about that here.

Against the life He gives, which is eternal life, death has no claim and no rule. The body still waits for its change and its redemption. Even so, for the one who now shares His resurrection life, death is behind him, and not ahead of him.

The Lord puts the question formally to Martha: "Do you believe this?" This was the great crucial question. Death reigned over man, and Christ Himself was about to go through it. Was there anything more powerful in the world, on the part of God?

Martha, feeling that the Lord went beyond her spiritual understanding, makes a correct confession of faith… but altogether general.

It is clear from the confession of Peter, of Nathanael (John 1:49), and of Martha (John 11:27) that the Jews in our Lord's time identified the Christ, the promised Messiah, with the Son of God. The same is clear from the high priest's demand (Matthew 26:63) and from Paul's preaching in the synagogues (Acts 9:20). The Jewish people plainly believed that the Messiah was no less than God's own Son. So their question was not whether the Christ was the true and proper Son of God. Their question was whether Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ.

The Lord puts the question straight to Martha: "Do you believe this?" It was indeed the great crucial question. Death reigned over man, and Christ Himself was about to go through it. Was there anything more powerful in the world, on the part of God?

To the Lord's question, "Do you believe this?" she can only give the vague reply, "Yes, Lord; I have believed, and still believe, that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world." Her words held truth, no doubt, but they gave no real answer to the question. She felt the uneasiness usual even to saints who hear what is beyond their depth.

In reply, Martha gives a general confession of faith. It was true as far as it went, and backed by Scripture (Psalm 2). But it falls far short of the fresh revelation the Lord had just made: in His Person as the Son, the resurrection and the life were there.

Martha's response showed that she had not understood it. But there was still real faith — faith in Christ according to Jewish hopes — for she said, "Yes, Lord; I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world." Her confession of faith did not go beyond the second Psalm. And yet, believing as she did in Christ, she had the title to all the blessing bound up with the whole truth of His glorious Person — although she did not know it.

So in her reply she fell back, wisely, on what she did believe for sure: He was the Christ, the Son of God, announced as the One coming into the world. She had already reached the faith this Gospel leads us to, and so she had "life in His name."

She believed in the Christ who was to come into the world, but she could get no further. It is good to remember this sad fact: when He goes one step beyond what we have commonly believed, we have no power in ourselves to receive it.

Her reply held truth, no doubt, but it was no real answer to His question. She felt the uneasiness that even saints feel when they hear what is beyond their depth. She thinks of her sister as one who would understand far better than herself. So, without staying to learn, she hurried off and called Mary in private. Mary, when she heard, rises quickly and comes. How sweet that call was to her heart!

Why did she do this? Why such haste to leave Jesus, that good Comforter, and to call her sister? Was there not a secret awareness that she could not talk with Jesus about subjects like these? She believed Him to be the Son of God. But "I am the resurrection and the life" was too deep for her. Her heart was not at ease with Jesus when He spoke like this. And have we nothing similar to this? Think of the sweetest and most blessed privileges of the Church. Are they not often the very things that send the children of God away? They are not at ease when Christ speaks of such things. They must go and find some Mary. It is a call for someone else, not for them.

There was then, I judge, a whisper in her soul. Her more heavenly-minded and better-taught sister would understand the Lord better than she did. Under this prompting she went and told Mary that the Teacher had come and was calling for her. This, I believe, was the secret of Martha's word to her sister. It was not that the Lord had really called for Mary. Still less was Martha guilty of carrying a false report. But Martha's heart told her there was a sympathy between the Lord and Mary. That thought, with no wrong in it, came out like this: "The Teacher is here and is calling for you." And so it proved.

She goes away and calls her sister. She says the Teacher (He who taught — notice the name she gives Him) had come and was calling for her. It was her own conscience that was to her the voice of Christ.

She who sat at His feet and heard His word will not move without His word. But this message reaches her: "The Teacher is here and is calling for you." Then we read, "And when she heard it, she rose quickly and went to him." She waits for His word, His call, even in her deep, deep sorrow. But once she has His word, she is as quick to reach Him as she was slow to move before.

Love drove her swift obedience. She sat in the house, waiting until He should call. When His call reached her, she hurried to answer it. Waiting before the Lord is the sure way to become fit to obey what He asks.

So she goes and calls her sister Mary in private. Mary seems to have been waiting for a clear call, and she rises at once and comes to Him. The Jews had come out from Jerusalem to comfort the grieving sisters as best they could. They follow her, supposing she is going to the tomb. Instead they find themselves in the presence of Jesus.

Martha loves Him and believes in Him, but she does not grasp what He has said, so she calls Mary, feeling that her sister would understand the Lord better. Mary waited for the Lord Himself to call her. Sorrowful though she was, she modestly left the first move to Him, and so, believing that the Lord had called her, she goes to Him at once.

She who sat at His feet and heard His word will not move without His word. But then this message reaches her: "The Master is here and is calling for you." And at once we read, "And when she heard it, she rose quickly and went to him." She waits for His word, His call, even in her deep, deep sorrow. But once she has His word, she is as quick of step to reach Him as she was slow to move before.

Mary's response to Martha's word shows the state of her soul at once. It was love that made her obedience so swift. She sat quietly in the house, waiting until He should call, and then, when His call reached her, she hurried to answer it. Waiting before the Lord is the sure way to become fit to obey what He asks.

Here we see once more the difference between these two devoted women. On the earlier occasion the Lord of life and glory visited her house, and Martha was weighed down with her serving. Now death has entered the home, and she is restless and distracted. Mary, who in that earlier day had listened to His word, can now wait quietly for Him to speak and act.

She rose up quickly to meet Him, and her friends followed, not knowing what she meant to do. They supposed she was going to the tomb to weep there. Her object was to meet the One who loved them.

To weep at the grave of those we love, even the world can do, but it brings no comfort: tears will not bring back our dead. To weep at the feet of Jesus is to find the comfort of His love. We weep at the feet of One who can raise our dead in His own time, and who can comfort our hearts until then... In other days she had sat at His feet as a learner. So in her days of sorrow she is able to be at His feet as a mourner. And as a result, a little while later, she will be at His feet as a worshipper.

Everything was arranged by God, and God provided the eyewitnesses of the power of Jesus, for He purposed to raise up a striking testimony to His beloved Son.

Let us not forget, dear Christian readers, that one of the marks of faith is to hurry. Abraham hurried when it was a matter of the Lord's service. Zacchaeus did the same when the Saviour invited Himself to his house. Mary did the same when the Lord called her to come to Him. If it is a matter of Him and of His Person, can we ever hurry enough? But on the other hand, should we not keep clear of the haste that so often marks the flesh and the old man?

Mary's response to Martha's word shows the state of her soul at once: "As soon as she heard, she rose quickly and came to Him." Love drove her swift obedience. She sat quietly in the house, waiting until He called. When His call reached her, she hurried to answer. Waiting before the Lord is the sure way to be fit for obeying what He asks.

The Jews, mistaking her action, say, "She goes to the grave to weep there". She was doing something far better, something only faith can do: she was going to the feet of Jesus to weep there. To weep at the grave of loved ones even the world can do, but it brings no comfort: tears will not bring back our dead. To weep at the feet of Jesus is to find the comfort of His love. We weep at the feet of One Who can raise our dead in His own time, and comfort our hearts in the meantime.

The Greek words parakaleo and paramytheomai are both translated "to comfort," but there is a difference between them. The second word (from para and mythos, "a word, speech") occurs in four places: John 11:19, 31; 1 Thessalonians 2:11; 1 Thessalonians 5:14. Older English versions translate it "comfort," and it seems to express more tenderness than the first.

It was not so. The grace of Christ meant that Jesus would meet Mary there, and she was soon to see a bright outshining of the glory of God in her beloved Lord. What strangers to Jesus were those who tried in vain to console her in the presence of death!

The Jews who came to comfort Mary, seeing her rise up quickly, said, "She goes to the grave, to weep there" — to weep in hopeless sorrow. Perhaps some of us think all hope is gone. We have let despair seize us, because our loved ones have been taken from us, our business shattered, our earthly hopes dashed to the ground... It may look as though we can do nothing now but sit down and mourn and weep over all the sorrow. That is just what the Jews thought Mary was doing at the grave. But instead of going to the grave under all the weight of hopeless sorrow, she went to the feet of Jesus.

Bethany was near Jerusalem, so many Jews had gone there to show their sympathy with the dead man's sisters and to comfort them. This brought a crowd of witnesses to the spot. They would confirm the Lord's wonderful work, spread the report of it in the holy city, and prove it beyond contradiction. So they would bring on the crisis. It soon had a solemn result: the death of the Saviour, according to the counsels and settled purpose of God.

Mary was not above the pressure of death any more than others. She repeats what Martha said; but she was of a different spirit in repeating it. But if she saw in Him as yet only power to preserve, if she had to learn that He is the resurrection and the life, at least she fell at His feet, as Martha did not. And the Lord, if He says nothing, will soon answer in deed and in truth.

When Martha went and met the Lord, she spoke at once. But the account states two things about Mary before she expressed the sorrow of her heart. She had come into His presence, she had seen Him, and she had fallen at His feet — and only then did her lips utter her pent-up feeling. In fact, it would seem that Mary fell at His feet as a result of having gazed upon His face. She knew more of the Lord than her sister. With her quick and responsive affection, she would read in His face what Martha could not have perceived.

The Jews, mistaking her action, say, "She goes to the grave to weep there." She was doing what was far better, what faith alone can do. She was going to the feet of Jesus to weep there. To weep at the grave of loved ones even the world can do, but it brings no comfort: tears will not bring back our dead. To weep at the feet of Jesus is to find the comfort of His love. We weep at the feet of One who, in His own time, can raise our dead, and in the meantime can comfort our hearts... In other days she had sat at His feet as a learner. So, in her days of sorrow, she is able to be at His feet as a mourner. And in a little while she will be found at His feet as a worshipper.

Mary, too, was under the weight of death. In that respect she did not go beyond Martha. But she was sure of the goodness of Jesus, as Martha also had been, and she said, "If You had been here, my brother would not have died." Death was between her hope and Jesus, since Jesus had not been between Lazarus and death. For her, death had shut the door to all hope. Lazarus was no longer in the land of the living, and there was no longer anyone to be healed.

"He could not have died if You had been here, Lord." I do not think there was complaint in it. I think it was a simple statement of a soul that was under the sense of the glory of His Person in a very beautiful way.

In her case there might have been perplexity, but there was certainly neither complaint nor implied reproach. It was her heart's confession that if He had been in Bethany her brother would not have died. Great as her grief was, she could trust Him completely, and she did.

She falls at His feet with a stronger emotion than Martha has shown, but only to repeat her sister's words... There, unlike Martha, she stops and says no more. She sees no way, and cannot speak as if she did. Let the lips she has listened to so often speak for Him and her.

The sight of human tears drew out a groan from the loving, sympathising heart of the Son of God. Let all mourners remember this. Jesus did not rebuke Mary for weeping. He did not make light of her sorrow. He did not tell her she ought not to feel, that she ought to be above anything of that sort. No, that would not be like Him. Some heartless people may talk that way, but He knew better. Though He was the Son of God, He was a real man. So He felt as a man ought to feel. He knew what a man must feel while walking through the dark valley of tears.

The word translated "deeply moved" occurs elsewhere for a "strict" or stern "charge," as in Matthew 9:30 and Mark 1:43. It also appears for angry speech, as in Mark 14:5. Here it is the inward feeling rather than the expression... It means the strong, and perhaps indignant, affection the Lord felt at the power of death. That power held not only the Jews but Mary, and the enemy still wielded it... His indignant sense of Satan's power through sin did not lessen His deep compassion in the least.

He groaned in the spirit. That groaning is not said to have been audible. We do not read that the Jews noticed it. They made no remark on it. But we know it, and learn from it how really, how deeply, He can feel for the sorrows of His sinful creatures.

He was so "deeply moved," or "groaning," because He had gone down in spirit under the heavy load of sorrow. That load lay on the heart of Mary and on the hearts of those around her. Through His sympathy He entered their grief and made it His own. He took it up on His own shoulders, so to speak. He knew perfectly what caused it, and He weighed its real character before God. So the burden pressed on Him until it forced out this groan. And remember that the heart of this burden was death. At that moment death lay on the mourners' hearts and over the whole scene. But death is the judgment of God on man. So we may say that in this scene the Lord anticipated His death on the cross. Here He took up and bore this judgment in compassion and sympathy; on the cross He bore it for the glory of God, making atonement for sin.

But we may note that in our Lord's case, deep as His grief was, it was His servant. "He troubled Himself." It did not gain the mastery, as our affections tend to do with us. Every feeling in Christ was perfect in kind, in measure, and in timing. His groaning, His trouble, His weeping — what were they not in God's sight!

He was holy, innocent, undefiled, and death had no claim on Him. Yet He felt in His spirit the dreadful dishonour done to God, and the awful distance and desolation of men. As perfect Man, He not only felt for God. Being God in His own glory, He also felt for man as only God could in the presence of human misery.

Some might possibly think that such expressions of sorrow on the part of our Lord were needless, seeing He was about to raise Lazarus. But think what we should have missed if there were no record of His groaning and shedding tears. Now we may see how He knows "our frame."

He was aware of His friend Lazarus' death while still in the place where He stayed two days, to allow it to happen in His absence. He timed His return to suit the circumstances. At the beginning of this whole course of events He declared, "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" — and that declaration makes it clear how fully He knew the whole sad episode and its happy outcome in advance. That He depended on ordinary sources of information for this detail — really, what can be said of this?

"Where have you laid him?" If the Lord had not asked this question, would not unbelievers have said that He was only acting a part, or that there was collusion?

It means the strong, and it may be indignant, affection the Lord felt at the power of death over Mary, and not only over the Jews. The enemy still wielded that power... His indignant sense of Satan's power through sin did not interfere in the least with His deep compassion.

He saw the power of death resting on those human hearts. It was a very deep thing. He knew He was just going to raise him from the dead. But He sees the state they are in. They do not know what is coming... He had the power to remove it all, but the weight and dark shadow of death was resting on human souls, on those He loved, and He felt it.

His tender question to the broken-hearted sister, "Where have you laid him?" shows how gently the Lord lightened the burden of the sorrowing heart. He made her see that His heart was just where hers was — at the tomb of Lazarus... He told the widow of Nain not to weep. He told Jairus that his daughter was not dead but sleeping. Each time He meant to wipe away the tears. But in Bethany the Lord weeps with His saints. The grandest display of the power of the Lord to raise the dead came together with the greatest witness to His deep sympathy with the bereaved.

This expression appears twice in chapter 1. First the Lord uses it, inviting others into His circumstances. Then Philip uses it, inviting Nathanael to see the Lord. But all that man has to show the Lord is a grave! How could He help thinking of His own coming death and burial for the sake of mankind in its sinful, ruined state?

The power of human sympathy only ties us down to the grief it wants to ease. It lays the body in the grave and puts a stone over the mouth. The Lord does indeed grieve and trouble Himself, but He seeks out the ruin to remedy it.

"Where have you laid him?" That is all you can do. The man that I love I can do more for... Notice the tendency, which Jesus does meet. We bring God down to the service of our sorrow. We do not look to the power of God to remedy our sorrow for His glory. This is our unbelief. It is, "Come and see Lazarus dead," not, "You, O Lord, are the resurrection and the life."

Everyone knows that the verses of our Bible are a human arrangement. Yet who can doubt that the Spirit of God guided the one who made it, in putting these two words into a verse of their own! They should stand alone, because they open a window into the very depths of the Lord's heart. They have comforted mourners in every age. They will keep comforting His people until God Himself wipes away every tear from their eyes.

The sight of human tears drew a groan from the loving, sympathising heart of the Son of God. Let all mourners remember this. Jesus did not rebuke Mary for weeping. He did not make light of her sorrow. He did not tell her she ought not to feel, that she ought to be above anything of that sort. No — that would not be like Him. Some heartless people may talk that way, but He knew better. He was the Son of God, but He was also a real man. So He felt as a man ought to feel. He knew what a person feels when passing through the dark valley of tears.

The sisters had reason to weep for the loss of their brother. But the Lord had no need to weep for a man He was about to raise. It was not for the dead He wept, but for the living — not for the loss of Lazarus, but for the sorrow of Mary and Martha. In a little while, love will raise Lazarus, but first love will weep with Martha and Mary. He broke His heart to bind up our hearts, and shed His tears to dry our tears.

These tears of the Saviour were deep sympathy for the whole human race. Death crushed it with a weight it could not lift. He felt for these tested souls too.

They are truly tears of sympathy with the grieving sisters in their great sorrow. There is truth in what the Jews said: "See how He loved him!" What deep comfort the tears of Jesus have brought to His own people in times of loss.

He wept as He was reaching the grave of Lazarus, though He knew He carried life for the dead. He who had just said, "I am the resurrection and the life," wept. Divine power left His human feelings free to run their full course.

The word here means shedding silent tears. It is not the word for loud wailing that Luke 19:41 uses. But those silent tears of Jesus have moved the hearts of grieving believers for two thousand years.

"God comforts the downcast." If we were never downcast, we would never know that precious care of His. A stoic does not need the comfort of God. It is worth having a broken heart to have it bound up by our most merciful High Priest.

Some who saw the tears of Jesus said, "See how He loved him" (John 11:36). This was surely true, as the sisters knew (John 11:3) and as John knew (John 11:5). The tears expressed the love of Jesus for Lazarus. They also showed that He was not unfeeling toward the cruel wounds death had made in the hearts of the sisters of Bethany.

The Jews, standing around the grave, misread the tears. They say, "See how He loved him!" The Lord did love Lazarus, but the tears were not the expression of His love for Lazarus. The sisters may weep for the loss of their brother. But there was no need for the Lord to weep for one He was about to raise. He did not weep for the dead but for the living — not for the loss of Lazarus, but for the sorrow of Mary and Martha. In a little while love will raise Lazarus, but first love will weep with Martha and Mary. He broke His heart to bind up our hearts, and shed His tears to dry our tears.

These tears of the Saviour were deep sympathy for the human race, crushed under the weight of death and unable to lift itself out. They were sympathy for these tested souls too. The Jews thought the tears of Jesus came from His affection for Lazarus: "See how He loved him!" they say. That was very natural, but what He was about to do forbids us to hold such a thought.

Even the Jews could not help saying, "See how He loved him!" What would they have thought if they had known He was just about to raise the dead man? ... Only faith in the glory of His Person reads the depth of His love rightly, and values it in its measure. "Jesus wept." These words mean one thing to someone who sees only a man. They mean far more to someone who knows Him as the mighty God, the only-begotten Son! Even a believer cannot fail to own His love here. But how much greater that love becomes when we see His divine dignity, and know that He was about to act in the power of divine life above death!

His tears told the Jews how Jesus loved Lazarus. Like the sisters, they could not understand why He had not kept him from dying. They reasoned in a human, worldly way. Love that showed such sympathy, they thought, might have used its power at the start to heal the sick man. But perfect wisdom and unfathomable love had arranged the circumstances. The Father was directing and the Son was obeying. Everything was working together for good — that is, for the glory of God.

John 11:36, "See how He loved him." While we can speak of His love in the past tense, how good to know it is a love that continues. John, in Revelation 1:5, spoke of the love of Christ as a reality that never stops. About our sins he used the past tense: "has freed us from our sins." But about the love that led Him to do that cleansing work once for all, he wrote, "To Him who loves us." Praise His Name, He loves and will go on loving His own.

The people, talking from their point of view, say, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man also have kept this man from dying?" It is all a mystery to them. They do not say, "Could he not have raised this man?" but, "Could he not have kept this man from dying?"

But there Lazarus was dead, and the question was the power of the Son of God who raises the dead. Healing would have been no such proof of His divine sonship.

We judge that God might have spared us many a trial, and we settle it as a clear, unquestioned conclusion, that He had the power. The friends of the family at Bethany said the same. But their reasoning fell short, because it took in only part of the truth: they thought only of the power of Christ.

The onlooker — himself blind — might say, "He has the power, where is His affection?" That is how someone who does not know Him reasons. But in this hour of trial are not His own also very low in their estimate of Him? His love, His power, where were they? All this is unbelief, and He rebukes it as such.

Here the poor human heart lets itself out in its ignorant reasonings. How little did these sceptics understand either the person or the path of the Son of God! How could they appreciate the motives that moved Him either in what He did, or in what He did not do? He opened the eyes of the blind, so that "the works of God might be displayed in him." And He did not prevent the death of Lazarus, so that God might be glorified by it.

This second groan is deeply affecting. He groaned, at first, in sympathy with the mourners around Him. He groaned again over the hardness and dark unbelief of the human heart, and of the heart of Israel in particular. But note this: He does not try to explain why He did not stop His friend from dying, even though He had opened the eyes of the blind.

These Jews knew that the Lord had the power to do wonderful works. But they did not know the wisdom and the love that made Him wait until Lazarus was dead before He came to the grieving sisters. Not only the ravages of death, but the unbelief and ignorance of men, brings a groan from the blessed Son of God.

All were under the weight of death. Lazarus was in the grave, and death was already doing its corrupting work. Martha and Mary both say, "If you had been here, my brother would not have died." The Jews say, "Could not this man … have kept this man from dying?" None realised that the One who is the resurrection and the life was among them.

If that had happened, how much those sisters would have missed! What impressions of the glory of Christ they would have lost! They would not have known the preciousness of His tears of compassion. They would have missed the might and authority of that "loud voice," the knowledge of Himself as "the resurrection and the life," and the sight of the glory of God.

The word translated "deeply moved" appears elsewhere for a "strict" or stern "charge," as in Matthew 9:30 and Mark 1:43. It also appears for an angry speech, as in Mark 14:5. Here it points to the inward feeling rather than its outward expression... It means the strong, and perhaps indignant, feeling the Lord had at the power of death. That power held not only the Jews but Mary, and the enemy still wielded it. The phrase that follows brings this out even more, and so does verse 38. His tender sympathy shows instead in His weeping (verse 35)... His indignant sense of Satan's power through sin did not weaken His deep compassion in the least.

These Jews knew that the Lord had power to do wonderful works. But they did not know the wisdom and the love that made Him wait. He waited until Lazarus was dead before He came to the grieving sisters. It is not only the ravages of death that bring a groan from the blessed Son of God. The unbelief and ignorance of men do the same.

There is not the slightest use in arguing with unconverted people. It only deceives them by making them think they can argue. It is always the best way to deal seriously with them about their own moral condition before God. We do not find our Lord taking any notice of the unbelieving reasoning of those around Him. He only groans again and goes on His way.

The Lord groaned deeply at the grave of Lazarus, but He had power to carry it in spirit to God, and was strengthened. He came to the place of death and found all sealed up, and a stone laid upon it; and He groaned in spirit. Men put away their dead as something repulsive — to get rid of them quickly.

Jesus again felt for Himself the power that shut God's glory out from man. He comes to the cave with a stone laid on it, which served as a tomb... Martha could not rise above the humbling effects of death, and she would have kept them out of sight from others. But Jesus would not hide what was due to God in grace to man. How soon the word of the Lord is forgotten when the sad facts of human ruin stand in front of us! Faith gives the word heed, and reaps the blessing in due time.

Christ entered into all the sorrow around Him at the grave. He groaned and was troubled. He saw the power of death over all these poor people. He enters right into it, and it presses upon Him. But He comes into the scene of death in the power of life.

Death had drawn out a groan in the spirit of Jesus, and again (verse 38) we find the grave doing the same. But now He was about to bring the power of His word into action and display... There are five striking pairs of words in this chapter which would sum up the whole story. They come in verses 4, 5, 17, 35 and 39 — "Jesus heard," "Jesus loved," "Jesus came," "Jesus wept," "Jesus said." The grieving believer today still waits for the fifth to be fulfilled. It will come with that "shout" which will raise the dead and change the living.

At the tomb He takes His place as the One to command, and to be obeyed. "Take away the stone," was His first word. They took away the stone, in spite of Martha's interruption. There was surely something in His manner and in His word that made those around obey promptly. To move the stone was not difficult. Human power could easily do that. To raise the dead required the exercise of divine power, direct or delegated.

"Take away the stone." Suppose the Lord had removed it by a miracle. Objectors would then have suggested fraud — that Lazarus had moved it from inside.

Poor Martha cannot hide her unbelief — that is to say, the influence that outward circumstances had over her soul. Lazarus had been in the grave four days already! Corruption must have already begun, she says. God allows this, so that there is not the slightest doubt, and so that the proof of Lazarus's real death is given. But the glory of God did not depend on how easy the work was. It showed itself in the impossibility.

But if Martha could not rise above the humbling effects of death, which she would shut out from others, Jesus would not hide what was due to God in grace to man. How quickly the word of the Lord is forgotten in the presence of the sad circumstances of human ruin! Faith gives the word heed, and reaps the blessing in due time.

There was a divine reason, too, for the choice of these cases. Suppose the Lord had raised only the child of the Jewish ruler of the synagogue. Unbelief, in its shameless presumption, might have questioned whether the death was real. It could have said the same about the son of the widow. The case of Lazarus was of another kind. Death had claimed him and held him for four days, so that even his sister exclaimed, "Lord, by this time there will be an odor." But He who stood by the grave had "life in Himself" (John 5:26). He was about to die and rise again, so that He might be Lord both of the dead and the living (Rom. 14:9). Death therefore had no power in His presence — indeed, it could not exist there. And He, stooping to us in grace, has proved it by meeting and overcoming death at every stage of decay and corruption.

And what of that? Could the humbling process of decay, even if complete, stand for one moment in the way of Him who is the resurrection and the life? Impossible! Bring Him in, and all is clear and simple; leave Him out, and all is dark, and nothing can be done. Only let the Son of God speak, and death and corruption must vanish like the darkness of night before the beams of the rising sun.

She realises that the body has gone to corruption, adding to the hopelessness of the case in the eyes of nature and reason. But all this weight of death on man, and the natural unbelief of the heart, only adds to the display of the glory of God. When all is utterly hopeless on man's side, God acts for His own glory.

There are five striking couplets in this chapter that would serve to summarise the whole story. They occur in verses 4, 5, 17, 35, 39 — "Jesus heard," "Jesus loved," "Jesus came," "Jesus wept," "Jesus said." The sorrowing believer today still waits for the fifth. It will come true in that "shout" which will raise the dead, change the living, and catch them all up to be with Him. The other four are valid and effective for us at all times.

That is in connection with verse 4. How interesting and blessed is this answer from the Father to all the dishonour that man was putting on Him! It connects Jesus with the glory of God, so that the Son of God might be glorified by it. What rich reward there always is in waiting for Him! It was a divine thought that the Son of God should be glorified on earth without leaving His place at all. He is still the rejected Jesus, and what comes out? The Son of God glorified.

Martha's energy comes out here: she was an active, busy person, but full of unbelief. "Lord, by this time there will be an odor… Jesus said to her, Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" There was His power coming in. What we find here is divine power coming into the place of death. In Christ's own resurrection we find it more blessedly still. They could put the stone there, they could weep over the one they left behind. This power of death had come over all the nature of man. What could they do? Weep over him and leave him there. But what was that? Nothing.

It is only the eye of faith that can see the glory of God. Unbelief sees only difficulties, darkness, and death. Faith looks above and beyond all these, and always basks in the blessed beams of the divine glory. Poor Martha saw nothing but a decaying human body. The only reason was the dark, depressing unbelief that held her.

God allows this, so that no one can have the slightest doubt and the reality of Lazarus's death is proved. But the glory of God did not depend on the work being easy. It showed itself in the impossibility of the work.

Both were right in believing there could be no death in the presence of Jesus. But they both erred, as many more of God's saints do. They assumed it would have been better for them if their sorrow had never come. If the Lord had come, they reasoned, they would not have lost their brother. But if so, they would not have seen the glory of God.

At the word of the Lord, men could roll the stone from the mouth of the cave. They did this, despite Martha's interfering protest, but their power stopped at that point. The display of the glory of God, which Martha was to see if she believed, was His work alone. Giving life and raising the dead are wholly His work, though He may use men to clear away obstacles.

See how the divine glory displays itself at the grave of Lazarus, even despite the unbelieving suggestion of Martha's heart. For God, blessed be His name, delights at times to rebuke our fears as well as to answer our faith.

To move the stone was not difficult. Human power could easily do that. To raise the dead required the exercise of divine power, direct or delegated. Who was He who now appeared as the One commanding? All present should hear, and, if they would, understand. It was the Son of the Father. Who on earth had ever spoken to God in heaven like this but Himself?

"Take away the stone." Suppose the Lord had moved it by a miracle. Objectors would then have hinted at fraud — that Lazarus had done it from inside.

Throughout the Gospel of John, the Lord's glory as a divine Person is always kept before us. He is the Son, but always seen in the place He had taken as Man. So He stands on earth and looks up to heaven, as suits the dependent Man. When meeting the needs of the five thousand, "He looked up to heaven." When healing the deaf and mute man, He did so "looking up to heaven." When meeting our sorrows He "lifted up His eyes" to the Father. He never stops being the Son. Yet, having become flesh, He never leaves the place of subjection and dependence that suits Him as Man.

It was when the stone was removed that He turned to His Father. His action was to display His glory, and it was to be an act of dependence. Every step of the perfect path, and every action in it, were in dependence on the Father whose glory He always sought. This was an occasion for thanksgiving to the Father. What had the Father heard? Was it the groanings of verses 33 and 38? Groanings that expressed the deep feelings of His spirit in the presence of the ravages of death.

He was One who could raise the dead. Yet He does it only in service, because He had taken the place of a servant. So He asks for it: "Father, I thank you that you have heard me."

At the graveside, the Son bore testimony to the Father's guidance and His own dependence. He had come to the tomb at the very moment the Father would have Him there. Obediently to the Father's will, He raised Lazarus, and delivered him to his sisters. And by the act of resurrection, the Father glorified the Son in Bethany, having heard His prayer.

Always glorifying the Father in all that He did, Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me." As He gave glory to God, He longed at the same time over the souls of those around Him. He wanted them to receive Him as the One sent from the Father, and they were about to see striking testimony to it.

Four times in our Lord's own life He gave thanks. With five thousand starving men in front of Him, He gave thanks because He knew what He would do. When His testimony was rejected He gave thanks. At the grave of Lazarus He gave thanks, before He raised him. And facing His own death He gave thanks. Scripture says, "give thanks in all circumstances" — but that is not as hard as "giving thanks always and for everything." This is God's will for us.

At the grave He speaks and acts in divine power over death, in communion with the Father. Martha's unbelief only draws out the expression of it. He is the resurrection and the life... And having said this, He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come out.

All present should hear, and, if they would, understand. It was the Son of the Father. So, lifting up His eyes to heaven, He said, "Father, I thank You that You have heard Me..." (41, 42). Whoever on earth had ever spoken to God in heaven like this but Himself?

He was One who could raise the dead. Yet He does it only in service, because He had taken the place of a servant. So He asks for it: "Father, I thank You that You have heard Me."

The Lord first prayed (vv. 41-42). He was not asking for the resurrection of Lazarus. He prayed in calm, conscious unity with the Father, to show those who stood by that He did nothing apart from the Father's will. The Father heard Him always. He did not plead with Him at all, for He speaks not as the dependent Man in Luke, but as being One with the Father... So it was not prayer that raised Lazarus, but the Lord's own authoritative, divine word.

Every movement and act in the life of that blessed Man rested in simple dependence on the Father Himself. When He heard that Lazarus was sick, He waited two days. Natural affection did not move Him. The direction of the Father's will did, so that He might be glorified... The resurrection of Lazarus was the greatest testimony to the Son as the Sent One of the Father.

He had come to the tomb at the very moment the Father would have Him there. In obedience to the Father's will, He raised Lazarus and gave him back to his sisters. And by the act of resurrection, the Father glorified the Son in Bethany, having heard His prayer.

In view of the crowd gathered there, He thanks the Father for hearing Him, and as One who always hears Him. He points directly to that gathering, standing there in unbelief, who may yet come to believe.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit, all interested in the bystander... Our Christian lives must look up. But we are not well developed in our spiritual lives if we do not look out, and become interested in those that stand by.

In Christ I see a divine heart, reflecting the perfect certainty of a love no one can question. It is peace. Now He says to us, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you." What peace those words express: "I knew that You always hear Me, but I said this on account of the people standing around." And this same peace is ours now; see 1 John 5:14-15.

He commanded again, crying with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." The one who was dead came out. He was bound hand and foot with grave clothes, his face wrapped in a cloth. Everything there stood in the way of obeying the command — his limbs tied, his face wrapped up. But the word of command was a word of power. Life returned to the body. Strength and vigour returned to the limbs. But had he really died? Had life really left his body? He had been dead and buried for four days. So the miracle could not be denied. If Lazarus came out of the tomb, it was the Lazarus who had died. His resurrection was beyond dispute.

There was no personal contact with the Lord, as there had been with the daughter of Jairus. He only spoke, and it was done. He, who called all creation into existence, called Lazarus out from the dead by His word.

With a loud voice He calls, "Lazarus, come out!" So Lazarus did not rise in answer to prayer. He rose at the Lord's own authoritative, divine word. Lazarus came out, even though he was bound hand and foot with grave clothes. His face was covered too. He could not see where he was going. But the power was in the voice that called him — the power of resurrection life.

At last He cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." Others have pointed this out: if our Lord had not said "Lazarus," all the dead would have risen. The name marked out the one who was to be subject to His divine life-giving power.

Others besides Lazarus were dead and lying in their tombs at Bethany. But the Lord only spoke to the one whom He knew and loved. He made a selection among those who were in the grave. And when the Lord comes down from heaven with a shout, only those who know that voice will respond.

He could have set Lazarus free as easily as He could have made the stone disappear. He could have willed it all without crying with a loud voice. But He wants us to trust the power of His word. So He would have us notice the corruption that comes before He gives life, and the bondage that may follow it now. Liberty is needed as well as life; but it is unnatural that someone who has been made to live should stay bound.

"I am the resurrection," He had said. He proved it here. What happened to Lazarus is a pledge of that power which will call every sleeping saint from the tomb. It is a pledge, too, of that power which will call all the ungodly dead to appear at the great white throne. Nothing could stop Lazarus obeying the voice of Christ. Nothing will be able to hold the bodies of the ungodly dead in the grave. God's people can find encouragement from this account. When He calls His own from the tomb, every one of them will come out.

A second word He spoke: "Loose him and let him go." Lazarus is a type of a sinner who hears His Word. We are dead in trespasses and sins. Spiritually, man is in the grave, in death and in darkness. He is in corruption. The Lord of Life gives life. And besides this He gives, along with that life, liberty. He sets us free from the bondage of the law and of sin. In the next chapter we read of Lazarus again. He is in fellowship with the Lord who raised him from the dead. Whoever hears and believes receives three blessed things: life, liberty and fellowship.

With a loud voice He calls, "Lazarus, come out!" So Lazarus was not raised in answer to prayer, but by the Lord's own commanding, divine word. Though his hands and feet were tied with grave clothes, Lazarus came out. His face was covered too (v. 44). He could not see where he was going, but the power was in the voice that called him — the power of resurrection life. The miracle is complete and perfect.

What was the difficulty of the stone to Him? For Himself He needed to remove nothing. It was for their sakes. Look at man in the disgusting state of death before he was raised! And what did the binding of the grave clothes, or of the cloth over his face, matter to Him now? … He could have freed Lazarus as easily as He could have made the stone vanish. He could have willed it all without crying with a loud voice. But He wants us to trust the power of His word, and so He would have us notice the decay that comes before He gives life, and the bondage that can follow it now. We need liberty as well as life. It is unnatural that anyone made to live should stay bound any longer.

There is not only life, but liberty. When Lazarus heard the voice of the Son of God, he came out. Yet his hands and feet were tied with grave clothes, and he could not see, or walk, or move at all. But when the second word reached him, "Loose him and let him go," he gets liberty.

"Loose him and let him go," is now the word that sets him free. The Lord wills that those who have received life from Him should enjoy it in all its blessed freedom, free from the grave clothes of Judaism, which were meant to stamp men with death, and not with life. "Loose him and let him go," is the Lord's word now to the evangelist and to the teacher. … the Son of God is glorified in freedom, not in bondage.

When Lazarus came out of his tomb at the command of the Lord, his hands and feet were tied with grave clothes. They were evidence that he would have to return to that grave again, and he needed friendly hands to loose him and let him go. But the sacred body of Jesus did not need such friendly service. It did not rise from the dead wrapped in the clothes of death. He left them behind Him, undisturbed by His rising.

Strictly speaking, it was not a pledge to the saints that they would rise in glorious bodies, for Lazarus came out bound hand and foot with grave clothes, to walk again in flesh and blood. It was instead a pledge to Israel of the life-giving power of the Son of God on their behalf. It showed them that the promised resurrection, or revival, of the nation rested on Him, and that He would bring it about at the right time.