Thursday, March 19
Opening Prayer:
Lord God, help us to believe that you are able to
bring life out of the most painful, chaotic, and messy circumstances. When we are tempted to doubt the goodness of
your heart, or to lose hope that you will, indeed, care for us, help us to hold
fast to an unswerving trust in your unfailing love. In the name of Jesus. Amen.
Scripture: John 11:38-44
Journal: Where have the circumstances of your life made it
difficult for you to believe in God’s heart?
Who can you relate to most in this story right now? Why?
What stones do you need rolled away within you these days?
Reflection:
The cave is dark and cold, filled with death and
decay. After all, it's been four days since the dead man was placed
inside. There's no more hope; that's it! Death has had the final
word. If only Jesus would've shown up sooner...but now what could he
possibly do?
Ever feel that way? Ever feel
like all hope is lost; like life and health and change are not possible because
of the gravitational pull of the deadness inside? Martha would have us
believe that it is just too late. "Don't open up that tomb, it's
going to stink. It is far too messy to be redeemed." I'm so
glad that Jesus didn't (and still doesn't) share her sentiments. In fact,
Jesus specializes in messy. That's because Jesus knows that for something
(or someone) to be resurrected it has to truly die first. Why do you
think he waited four days before he arrived at the tomb? Why do you think
he said to Martha, "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would
see the glory of God?" You see, Jesus is bigger than death—be it
the death of someone we love, the death of a relationship we hold near and
dear, the death of a dream, or the death that lives within us on a regular
basis. Death would have us believe that this is it. That's
all there is. There's no way out of this pain and darkness and
depression. We are stuck. We are trapped. Life can never be
the same again.
But
Jesus knows better. Maybe that's why he weeps. Maybe he is
heartbroken that somewhere, deep inside, we don't truly believe that he can
redeem this, whatever this may be. Maybe he is weeping over
the fact that we do not really believe that he can, or will, bring life out of
the most unimaginable pain and brokenness. Maybe his tears come from the
fact that our circumstances have made us doubt the goodness of his heart.
And maybe his sadness is, somehow, related to our stuckness. Who
knows?
Luckily the story doesn't end
there. In fact, Jesus then calls out, "Take away the stone."
And some unknown, unseen (to us) group of people spring into action.
People that are filled with the hope that this is not, indeed, the end.
People that are filled with the faith to know that even though things look
unredeemable, Jesus is able to breathe life into even the most dismal and
hopeless and painful of circumstances. People that care so deeply
for the one inside the tomb that they are standing by, willing and ready, to do
whatever it takes to help make that redemption possible. "He can't
get out himself," they think, "so why don't we help roll the stone
away and just see what Jesus will do."
Truth be
told, there can never be enough stone-rollers in the world. In fact, what
if that was what our churches were full of? Oh what a different world it
would be! Stone-rollers don't care about the stink. They don't
care about the mess. They don't care about what anyone thinks. They
are beyond all of that, because at some point in time someone had the courage
and the grace to roll their stone away, so that they might walk out of the
grave into the light of new life. And because of that, if there's ever a
time when someone needs a stone rolled away—rather than to be avoided or judged
or given up on—they want to be the first in line. I get the privilege to seeing
some stone-rollers do their thing from time to time, and let me tell you, it is
remarkable. Being a stone-roller is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
After the stone is rolled away,
Jesus turns his eyes, and his heart, to his Father—the giver of all life.
He knows the Father's heart like no one else. He knows the
goodness. He knows the faithfulness. He knows the love. And
he knows that those standing around, particularly the family of this dead man,
are doubting all of that at the moment. Maybe, somehow, they think that
it was God's hand that caused all of this pain, but Jesus knows
better. He knows the heart of the Father that groans for and
with his creation (Romans 8:26) in their most broken hours—and so he
prays. He prays that they may believe; believe that he is
the God of life even in the face of death, believe that they can trust
his heart even when they can't see his hand, believe that he was sent from the
Father's side to redeem the unredeemable.
So Jesus calls out the dead man's
name and tells him to come out. Notice he doesn't just say “Come
alive” or “Be healed,” but “Come out.” Because a
significant part of the new life that Jesus calls us to is leaving the tomb
behind. He raises us from the dead, breathes new life into our soul, and
then calls each of us to “Come out.” Thus, coming to life again
but choosing to remain in the tomb is not an option, yet so many people
live like it is. So many people, claiming to belong to Jesus, claiming to
have been raised from the dead, are still sitting in the darkness of the tomb
of shame or guilt or anger or bitterness or unforgiveness or self-pity.
They are still living a life that is anything but alive. We must
take that step out of the tomb. Then, and only then, can the body of
Christ (maybe even the same ones who rolled away the stone) come along side us
and help us take off the grave clothes so we can be totally alive and totally
free.
Prayers
Closing
Prayer: O Lord, I believe, please help
my unbelief.
