The Raising of Lazarus / John 11:1-44
The Raw Reality of Life and Pain
That video hit home a little harder for me, considering my wife and I, two weeks ago, celebrated the birth of our first child. Two weeks ago today, our firstborn, little Finley Michael Hawes, was born. I am just so thankful for the gift of life. I am so proud of my wife and the fight I saw in her while delivering our little boy.
You know what amazed my wife and me during her nine months of pregnancy—especially as she got a little farther along—is how many women loved to walk up to her and ask if they could feel her belly. We would always chuckle when women said, “Oh, I miss being pregnant so much!” My wife and I would look at each other like, What part of being pregnant do you miss? Hauling around an extra thirty or forty pounds? Getting up to pee every ten minutes? Getting constantly kicked in the ribs throughout the day? What part of this do you miss?
So much of pregnancy, and delivery especially, exposes every bit of our humanity. You see a raw, unfiltered realness. The only way I can describe the delivery room is that it is beautiful, horrible, messy, and amazing all at the same time. It is one of those moments where you realize all that pain, all those nine months of preparation, was worth it. The joy is worth the pain. Now, I know the women in the room are looking at me thinking, It’s easy for you to say—you didn’t push an eight-pound human being out of your body. You’re just the guy who stood there awkwardly while your wife did all the work. That is very true, and I am so proud of her.
Today, we are going to look at a story in the Bible that goes right into that raw space. In John chapter 11, Scripture captures deep, real human emotion and meets us right where we are. The Bible lets us look through the lens of two sisters who are hurting and grieving. They lose a brother they love dearly, and they wonder where Jesus was in their deepest moment of need. Where was Jesus? He could have easily been there for their brother and stopped this sickness from turning into death.
How many times have you been asked—or maybe asked yourself—How can a good God allow this much pain, evil, and suffering in our world? Where was God in my deepest moment of need? For some of you, you might be asking, God, in my darkest, heaviest battle with depression and anxiety, where were you? People have asked, God, during the Holocaust in World War II, where were you for your chosen people in those concentration camps? Or, God, where were you when my business partner betrayed me, stole from me, and stripped away my ability to provide for my family?
The Problem of Pain
C. S. Lewis tackled this question in his book The Problem of Pain. He summarized the dilemma every human wrestles with in times of crisis:
“If God were good, He would wish to make His creatures perfectly happy, and if God were almighty, He would be able to do what He wished. But the creatures are not happy. Therefore God lacks either goodness, or power, or both. This is the problem of pain in its simplest form.”
Lewis dug into our raw human experience. When we are in pain, in need, or in a season of crisis, we tend to conclude one of two things: either God doesn’t care about us and is okay watching us struggle, or He cares, but He isn’t powerful enough to control the situation.
Some of us picture God as a sadistic playground bully—like the kid who fries ants on the sidewalk with a magnifying glass. If you remember the movie Toy Story, think of Sid, the neighborhood kid who ripped the heads off dolls, replaced them with weird parts, and blew them up with dynamite just because he could. Some people hold that view of God when they feel deserted in their pain, imagining that He enjoys watching them suffer alone.
Others hold a Santa Claus view of God. To them, God is a jolly, nice guy in the sky who drops in occasionally to hand out blessings if you say the right prayer, but He cannot protect you from everyday pain and struggle. He gives you good things, but He remains fundamentally detached from your daily life.
As we look at John 11 today, we will discover that neither picture is true. Neither represents who God is or where He stands in our deepest moments of pain.
A Costly Delay
Let’s turn to John 11 and ask: Where is Jesus in our deepest moments of hurt?
John 11:1-3 (NASB)
Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. It was the Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped His feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick. So the sisters sent [word] to Him, saying, ‘Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick.’
John wants us to understand right away that Lazarus, Martha, and Mary are close siblings, and as a family, they are deeply close to Jesus. Significant moments have already occurred and will continue to occur in their home. John emphasizes their bond so we can feel the intimacy of their friendship. The sisters send word: “Lord, he whom you love is ill.”
If you are reading this story for the first time, you expect Jesus to spring into action. His dear friend is in critical condition. Death is knocking at the door, Lazarus’s life is slipping away, and we expect Jesus to step into a phone booth, put on a cape, and fly to the rescue. If He truly loves Lazarus and his sisters, that is what He should do, right?
John 11:4-6 (NASB)
But when Jesus heard [this], He said, ‘This sickness is not to end in death, but for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by it.’ Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when He heard that he was sick, He then stayed two days [longer] in the place where He was.
Put verse 4 in your mental back pocket, because we will come back to it. In verse 5, John reiterates that Jesus deeply loves this family. But look at verse 6: “So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.”
Verses 5 and 6 feel like a total contradiction. He loves them deeply, yet He stays put? What is going on?
Put yourself in the sandals of the messenger Mary and Martha sent. Your legs are heavy. Your head is pounding like a drum. Sweat stings your eyes. Your throat is parched, and your heart is beating out of your chest. Throughout that twenty-mile sprint, your side splits with pain, begging you to walk. But you push harder because you know the sooner you reach Jesus, the sooner He can save Lazarus. You finally collapse before Jesus, gasping for breath, telling Him that Lazarus, Martha, and Mary desperately need Him. Jesus listens, looks at you, and calmly turns back to the crowd He was with, saying, “This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God.” Then He continues His conversation.
Can you imagine that? You ran twenty miles with urgent news, and Jesus does not move. Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever cried out to God in a crisis, begging Him to intervene, while life beats you down and Heaven seems silent? You wonder, God, are you taking a lunch break? Is this your day off? Are you punishing me? Where are you?
You can be sure the messenger, along with Martha and Mary, felt that exact ache. They thought, Jesus, you don’t understand how serious this is.
Walking into the Light
Two days later, on His own timetable, Jesus decides it is time to move.
John 11:7-10 (NASB)
Then after this He said to the disciples, ‘Let us go to Judea again.’ The disciples said to Him, ‘Rabbi, the Jews were just now seeking to stone You, and are You going there again?’ Jesus answered, ’Are there not twelve hours in the day? If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. ‘But if anyone walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.’
Jesus tells the disciples it is time to pack up camp and head out, but they object. Bethany is dangerously close to Jerusalem, where the religious leaders are scheming to trap and kill Jesus. They envy His growing influence and despise how He challenges their religious traditions. The disciples want to stay far away.
Jesus responds with absolute confidence. He reminds them of what He taught back in John 8: He is the Light of the World. Light does not fear darkness. When light steps into a room, darkness scatters. Jesus does not need to sneak around in secret; He walks in broad daylight according to the Father’s timing. Look at how calm and in control He is.
John 11:11-14 (NASB)
This He said, and after that He said to them, ‘Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I go, so that I may awaken him out of sleep.’ The disciples then said to Him, ‘Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will recover.’ Now Jesus had spoken of his death, but they thought that He was speaking of literal sleep. So Jesus then said to them plainly, ’Lazarus is dead,
I find great comfort in the disciples because they are consistently a few steps behind. Jesus speaks metaphorically about sleep, and they reply, “Well, sleep is great for recovery!” Finally, Jesus speaks plainly: “Lazarus has died.”
Now, if you remembered verse 4, a red flag should be waving in your mind. Jesus previously said this sickness would not lead to death. Did Jesus misdiagnose the illness? Did He think it was just a bad head cold that some chicken noodle soup and kombucha could fix?
A few years ago, my brother-in-law went to urgent care with severe abdominal pain. The medical staff checked him over and diagnosed him with a simple stomach flu, telling him to take some antacids. It turned out his appendix had burst, and he nearly lost his life before making it back to the hospital. Did something like that happen here? Did Lazarus’s death catch Jesus by surprise?
John 11:15-16 (NASB)
and I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, so that you may believe; but let us go to him.’ Therefore Thomas, who is called Didymus, said to [his] fellow disciples, ‘Let us also go, so that we may die with Him.’
Jesus looks at His disciples and says, “For your sake I am glad that I was not there.” Can you imagine hearing that right after losing someone you love? The disciples had spent significant time in that home; they loved Lazarus too. Jesus looks them in the eye and says He is glad He wasn’t there to stop it.
Thomas—who often gets an unfair reputation as the doubter—speaks up in verse 16: “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” Thomas may look like a glass-half-empty guy, but what he is really saying is profound: I would rather die with Christ than live without Him.
That is a challenging question for every follower of Jesus. Is that your posture? Would you rather die with and for Christ than live without Him? Or are you only on Team Jesus as long as He keeps you comfortable, safe, and prosperous? Thomas shows us what true discipleship looks like: absolute allegiance, even into the face of death.
Meeting Martha in the Tension
Jesus and His disciples make the journey to Bethany.
John 11:17-20 (NASB)
So when Jesus came, He found that he had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, about two miles off; and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary, to console them concerning [their] brother. Martha therefore, when she heard that Jesus was coming, went to meet Him, but Mary stayed at the house.
By the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been in the tomb for four days. Jesus was only twenty miles away—less than a day’s journey—yet nearly a week has passed since the sisters sent their plea. Martha and Mary are grieving, confused, and likely wrestling with deep frustration.
Martha hears that Jesus is near and rushes out to meet Him.
John 11:21-22 (NASB)
Martha then said to Jesus, ’Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died. ‘Even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You.’
Listen to the raw grief and hurt in her voice: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She believes in Jesus’s power to heal. Her struggle is not with what He could do, but with why He didn’t do it.
How many of us have experienced that exact internal fight? In our minds, our theology tells us God is good, powerful, and trustworthy. But our hearts scream that He let us down and deserted us in our hour of need. There is an agonizing tension between our theology and our pain.
John 11:23-27 (NASB)
Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’ Martha said to Him, ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?’ She said to Him, ‘Yes, Lord; I have believed that You are the Christ, the Son of God, [even] He who comes into the world.’
Jesus declares, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Notice He does not say, “I give resurrection and life.” He says, “I AM the resurrection and the life.” He is life itself. He is the source. As the resurrection and the life, Jesus steps into your present, pushes out the pain of your past, and pulls in the hope of your future.
In verses 24 and 27, Martha responds with what we might call “bumper sticker theology.” She knows the orthodox, correct answers. She knows the truth of the future resurrection, much like someone quoting Romans 8:28 during a tragedy. But her heart is broken. It is that Sunday-morning posture where we put on a smile and say, “I’m blessed and highly favored,” while inside our hearts are shattered and our faith feels paper-thin. That is where Martha stands.
The Tears and Wrath of Jesus
Next, Mary comes out to meet Him.
John 11:28-35 (NASB)
When she had said this, she went away and called Mary her sister, saying secretly, ‘The Teacher is here and is calling for you.’ And when she heard it, she got up quickly and was coming to Him. Now Jesus had not yet come into the village, but was still in the place where Martha met Him. Then the Jews who were with her in the house, and consoling her, when they saw that Mary got up quickly and went out, they followed her, supposing that she was going to the tomb to weep there. Therefore, when Mary came where Jesus was, she saw Him, and fell at His feet, saying to Him, ‘Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.’ When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her [also] weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and was troubled, and said, ‘Where have you laid him?’ They said to Him, ‘Lord, come and see.’ Jesus wept.
Mary falls at His feet with the exact same cry: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Look at how Jesus responds. He does not offer a theological lecture. Verses 33 and 35 tell us He was deeply moved in spirit, greatly troubled, and He wept. God is not cold or detached. He is not emotionally erratic like a comedy character shouting that he’s in a glass case of emotion; He is steady, faithful, and deeply moved by our sorrow. He is Immanuel—God with us in our suffering.
John 11:36-38 (NASB)
So the Jews were saying, ‘See how He loved him!’ But some of them said, ‘Could not this man, who opened the eyes of the blind man, have kept this man also from dying?’ So Jesus, again being deeply moved within, came to the tomb. Now it was a cave, and a stone was lying against it.
The onlookers notice His affection, but some question His power: “If He loved him so much, why didn’t He stop this? Was this beyond His capability?”
In verse 38, Jesus arrives at the tomb, “deeply moved again.” In the original language, this phrase conveys an intense emotion that includes deep indignation and anger. Why was Jesus angry? Because He was looking at the devastating fruit of sin. As the Creator of life, Jesus knows we were made for life, not the grave. When He sees how death has terrorized those He loves, it fills Him with holy anger.
This reveals the holy wrath of God. Many people shy away from the wrath of God; they prefer a sweet, safe, sunshine-and-rainbows deity. But you cannot truly have the love of God without the wrath of God. They are two sides of the same coin. God’s wrath is His intense hatred of anything that harms what He loves. He hates what sin and death do to His children. This passage is soaked in the deep affection, empathy, and fierce holiness of God.
“Lazarus, Come Out!”
Jesus prepares to act.
John 11:39-40 (NASB)
Jesus said, ‘Remove the stone.’ Martha, the sister of the deceased, said to Him, ‘Lord, by this time there will be a stench, for he has been [dead] four days.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Did I not say to you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?’
Martha objects to opening the tomb. In the classic King James Version, she famously says, “Lord, by this time he stinketh.”
Growing up, my family lived on a thirty-two-acre ostrich ranch in Mariposa on a dirt road. It was an interesting childhood, to say the least. One summer day, my three older brothers and I came home from a sporting event to find a headless snake wriggling in our driveway. About forty-five minutes earlier, my mom had encountered a rattlesnake and taken its head off with a flathead shovel—she went into full beast mode. Whenever we killed rattlesnakes in the summer, we always dug a deep hole to bury them. If you left a carcass in the hot summer sun, the wind would catch that decaying smell, and it was completely stomach-turning.
Martha is saying, Jesus, we don’t want to smell decay. We don’t want to see our brother rotting. We had the memorial, we said our goodbyes, and we just want closure. But Jesus gently reminds her: “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”
Look at the patience of Jesus. He does not condemn Martha for her hesitation. He does not say, “Well, since you lacked faith, I’m leaving.” Instead, He walks beside her, patiently coaching and strengthening her faith. That is what He does with us when we wrestle with honest doubts.
John 11:41-44 (NASB)
So they removed the stone. Then Jesus raised His eyes, and said, ’Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. ‘I knew that You always hear Me; but because of the people standing around I said it, so that they may believe that You sent Me.’ When He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come forth.’ The man who had died came forth, bound hand and foot with wrappings, and his face was wrapped around with a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’
Jesus lifts His eyes and thanks the Father for already hearing Him. That is absolute confidence in prayer. It is like watching a classic sports replay when you already know your team won—there is zero anxiety.
Then, with a loud voice—in the Greek, a mega voice, like a megaphone of divine authority—He shouts, “Lazarus, come out!” Just as darkness cannot remain when light enters, death cannot stand when the Author of Life speaks. Death scatters. Lazarus walks out of the tomb, bound in grave clothes, and Jesus commands, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
This is a living picture of the freedom Jesus brings. When His presence enters our lives, the chains of sin and death lose all authority over us. If you trust in Jesus as the resurrection and the life, death has no ultimate claim on you.
The Greater Glory
If you have grown up in church, you know how this story ends, and it can be easy to lose the wonder of it. But imagine standing in Martha and Mary’s shoes. Imagine opening your brother’s tomb, watching him sit up and smile, and jumping down into the dirt to embrace him alive. In a single moment, every ounce of confusion, grief, doubt, and anger evaporated in the presence of the Resurrection and the Life.
Now pull verse 4 out of your pocket: “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.”
Jesus understood the larger purpose from the beginning. We only see the tragedy in front of us, but God uses the stage of human impossibility to display His power and lead people to eternal life.
About six months ago at our church in Madera, a young couple came up to congratulate my wife and me on our pregnancy. In the course of the conversation, I asked, “Do you guys have kids?”
The moment the words left my mouth, the atmosphere changed. The wife began to weep. Her husband gently looked at me and said, “We did. We had a baby boy born with severe health complications and no arms. In his two short years of life, he went through over fifteen surgeries. But he was filled with the joy of the Holy Spirit. His fight and his joy amazed every doctor and nurse who cared for him.”
He continued, “When he passed away, his memorial service was packed. Several of the doctors and nurses came. Afterward, they told us, ‘We came to support your family, but we walked out of that service feeling a love we have never experienced before.’”
With tears in his eyes, that father said, “We miss our son terribly, and we cannot wait to be reunited with him in heaven. But if even one of those doctors, nurses, or attendees gave their life to Jesus because of our little boy, every surgery, every tear, and every ounce of pain was worth it.”
Where Was God?
Where was Jesus in your deepest moment of need? Does He care? Is He in control?
Look at the cross. The resurrection of Lazarus was a signpost pointing straight to what Jesus would accomplish just weeks later outside Jerusalem. On the cross, Jesus entered our ultimate pain and absorbed our death. Through His resurrection, He broke the power of the grave once and for all.
There is no greater declaration of God’s love and power than the cross and the empty tomb. He tells you: I am with you, I am for you, and I have already won the victory for you. I have put death to death so you never have to live in fear. I am the resurrection and the life.
In your deepest seasons of hurt, grief, and confusion, look to John 11. Look to Jesus and rest in His power, His care, His holy wrath against sin, and His perfect timing.
Closing Prayer
Jesus, we come before You deeply thankful that You never waste our pain. Lord, we do not want to treat suffering with cheap clichés. We acknowledge that grief is real, pain runs deep, and we choose to mourn with those who mourn. But we anchor our souls in the living hope found in You, the Resurrection and the Life. Thank You for stepping into our present, wiping away the pain of our past, and securing our eternal future. We love You, and we trust You. In Your mighty name, Amen.