My primary text is the shortest verse in the Bible. Many of you already know the reference: John 11:35. “Jesus wept.” But before I focus our attention on those two words, let’s also remind ourselves of what the Lord Jesus said a few chapters later: (John 14:1-9a)
And so, it is
important that we view the ‘Jesus wept’ passage in John 11:35 in context with what
I just read in chapter 14. If you remember the story about Lazarus, when Jesus
learned of His friend’s illness, He and the disciples stayed a few more days
where they were. When they finally arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had already died
and was in the tomb for four days. When Jesus witnessed the grief of Mary, and
Martha, and the other mourners, John tells us in two simple but profound words:
“Jesus wept.”
We must never
gloss over those two words. They are saturated with evidence of God’s passion
and compassion for you and for me: “Jesus wept.”
There is not a person in this room who does not know
life and suffering are nearly synonymous. Job – who certainly had his share of
suffering – Job said it very well when he remarked: “Man is born for trouble as sparks fly upwards.” (5:7) A few
chapters later he adds: “Man who
is born of woman
Is
of few days and full of trouble.” (14:1)
And so, life being as it is, I think it’s normal to
ask, “Where is God in all of it? Where is He in all the trouble and heartache
and loneliness and sadness?”
I used to think He was always there, in the shadows –
as it were – ready to come to us, ready to comfort us. But over the years I think
I have come to know Him more accurately. He is NOT in the shadows as we suffer
loss, and rejection, and heartache.
He is there, right alongside us. Right ‘With Us.” His
arm is around our shoulder. He weeps as we weep. THAT is what John 11:35
demonstrates for us. He is not in the shadows as we mourn. He is embracing us –
and He is weeping with us.
Here is
another important text that dovetails with this truth embedded in the shortest
verse in the Bible. It’s from Romans 8: “But you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry
out, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of
God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and
fellow heirs with Christ . . . . For I consider that the sufferings of this
present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be
revealed to us. . . .And we know that God causes all
things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called
according to His purpose. For those whom He foreknew,
He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son . . ..”
Listen,
please. Unless and until we believe – REALLY believe – that our
omnipotent Father God is not only ABLE, but that He DOES cause all things
that come into our lives – all things, all things – unless we believe God
causes all things that come into our lives to work together for good to those
who love Him – we will never be able to come to a place of peace and assurance
in the face of the most desperate trials. Or even the simplest.
God is not in the shadows. He is so near to us,
especially in our heartbreaks, that we
can almost sense His body warmth if we pay close enough attention. The history
of God’s affectionate interactions with His children fills the pages of
Scripture. For the sake of time, let’s look only at the story of Leah. You will
find it in the book of Genesis, beginning in chapter 29. I’ve referred to it
before, but because the principle of this story is timeless, I share it once
again.
Leah always lived
in the shadow of her younger sister's beauty. When Jacob visited the family,
Rachel's beauty captured him – so much so, he agreed to work her family's farm
for seven years as payment to marry her. But on the eve of the completion of
that seventh year, Rachel's family pulled a classic bait and switch. When the
new groom awakened the next morning, he found himself lying next to Leah. If
Jacob still wanted Rachel, he'd have to work another seven years.
He did, but
it's not difficult to imagine how Leah felt – unloved, unattractive, unwanted,
knowing her family had to trick Jacob into her marriage bed. Yet, the story
grows more poignant. Scripture tells us: “When
the Lord saw that Leah was not loved, he opened her womb . . . and (she) gave
birth to a son. She named him Reuben, for she said, ‘It is because the Lord has
seen my misery. Surely my husband will love me now’" (Genesis
29:31-32, NASB).
Can you almost hear the wistful yearning in her voice? "Now my husband will love me."
Have you ever
been there? Desperate for the one you love to love you in return? Was it – or
is it – a parent’s love? A Spouse’s? A child’s? Then you know some of Leah’s
heartbreak. She hoped the birth of their son would change Jacob’s heart. But it
did not.
Have you ever
been there also that you thought to yourself if you only did this, or that, or
whatever it might be – if you only did something more, the one you
wanted to love you would then love you? But it didn’t work, did it? Of course
not, because real love doesn’t work that way, and that’s why their love for you
remained as elusive as it had been before you did whatever it was you did to
gain their love.
But, back to
Leah. She conceived again. And then, again. Listen to her hopeful cry: "Now at last my husband will become attached
to me, because I have borne him three sons."
Yet even after
six sons, it was Rachel who remained
the light in Jacob's eyes. Leah hungered for her husband's embrace and gentle touch,
she yearned for a kind word, and to know in the core of her being that her
husband loved her. Yet, Jacob remained hardened to her heartache and insensitive
to her sorrow.
But God . . . .
Christian,
those two words are critically important words to remember as we live lives
that sometimes seem hopeless. “But God” can help us focus on the omnipotent and
omniscient One who knows all our tears and confusion and doubts and fears and
loneliness. Those two words, “But God” should remind us that the One who loves
me and you beyond our human capacity to comprehend – that He never abandons us
or turns away from us, especially in our darkest and loneliest hours.
“But God” are
the two words that bring Leah’s story to an astonishing and unexpected
conclusion.
I’ve read those
chapters in Genesis dozens of times, but several years ago my eyes froze at the
list of Leah's six sons – Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, and Zebulun.
Then my eyes fixated on two: Levi and Judah.
While Leah lived
in her sister’s shadow, she couldn’t know that eternity would measure life and death through her own offspring – and not Rachel's.
Levi and
Judah: ancestors of Moses, Aaron, David, Solomon, Ezra, Ezekiel, Zechariah . .
. on and on the list would grow. All of Israel's religious and political
leaders would trace their ancestry through her womb. All of them – including Jesus,
the Messiah.
God tells us
through Jeremiah, by the way, another
of Leah's descendants, "For I know
the plans that I have for you, plans for welfare and not for calamity, to give
you a future and a hope" (Jeremiah 29:11).
Hope.
The same God
who authored the life and the outcome of Leah’s story also tells us through St.
Paul: “For whatever things were written before were written for
our learning, that we through the patience and comfort of the Scriptures
might have hope.” (Romans 15)
That's what
Leah's story is all about – great, inexpressible hope. And confidence. And
perseverance. It’s about God beside us, about God who loves us, and who knows
our deepest hurts. It’s about God who turns all things to the good for those
who love Him, who trust Him, who are called according to His incomprehensible
purpose.
Let’s go back
a moment now to John 11:35 and to what Jesus said later in that 14th
chapter of John’s gospel: “He who has
seen Me, has seen the Father.”
When the Holy
Spirit inspired John to include the story of how Jesus wept with those who
wept at the grave of Lazarus, God did so to ever remind His children – you
and me – that He, meaning Almighty God, that He is not unaware of our tears.
And that He – God – whom we know as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – that
God most surely weeps with us.
It is through
the stories of Lazarus and Leah – and dozens of stories like theirs – God asks
us to trust Him in our loss and grief and heart break – to trust Him that He is not in the shadows,
waiting for us to call Him to come close.
We
don’t need to call Him close because He is ALREADY close – as close as our
breath. As close as our skin. He promised to never leave us alone in our
loneliness or confusion or grief. And God never breaks His promises.
Where was God in all we’ve been through? Where is God in all we’re going through? What trials and emotional storms trouble you today? I have my own as surely as you have yours. And I must ask myself over and over again – as you must ask of yourself the same questions: Will I BELIEVE God not only KNOWS my pain and loss and heartache – but that He actually weeps with me? And – and just as important – will I choose to believe that He WILL cause my circumstances to turn for good – even if His plan causes me pain?
The right answer to those
questions holds the seeds of a life-changing fruit.
Let me close this message with the words of a
centuries-old hymn by Catharina
von Schlegel. I refer to this hymn because it dovetails so well, I think, with
today’s message – the theme of which is trusting God in all of life’s
circumstances – the heartaches and the joys, the loneliness and the
companionships.
1. Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
2. Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.
3. Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.
4. Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last
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