The twilight dragged the darkness behind it one more time. The man leaned clumsily on his side as best he could and coughed yellow mucus into the bowl. He was too sick to notice the huge string of saliva that hung precariously between his bottom lip and the bowl’s edge. He was sweating profusely as the temperature on his forehead was burning him up. Reaching for some water his sister held back her tears.

“don’t lazarus. Drink this.”

He breathed heavily and quickly hardly recognising her as she lifted the bowl to his lips and eased him back onto his bed. It had been six weeks.

“I’ve sent someone to bring Jesus. He’ll save you.”

The pain was too much in his chest. Even though he was delusional, even though he was fighting all he could, something inside him knew he would die. The pain in his chest came back so violently and that he shrieked.

This was torturous. Come on Jesus. Come on, and help me, either heal me or kill me. Don’t let me suffer anymore.

His prayer was answered before the painful night was through.

It was still dark when the messenger came back and made his way through the crowd. The dawn was breaking and the people were gathering. The community had heard the news, Lazarus was dead and it was time to start mourning. The messenger had run as fast as he could to get back. But he really didn’t know what he was going to say. Jesus had not been particularly helpful when he had heard the news of Lazarus’ illness.

As the messenger neared the house he could hear the sounds of women wailing. It was loud and heart wrenching, callous against the beauty of the sunrise. At odds with the beginning of a new day. And he slowed his run down to a walk. He knew it was over. He knew that Lazarus was dead. Drawing closer he heard the cries were broken up with some words.

“Why? Why? Why didn’t Jesus save him? Why didn’t Jesus heal him? Why didn’t he come? Why? Why?”

the messenger pushed his way through the crowd of tears, and arrived at the door. Mary and Martha were in the room, with Lazarus’ corpse. Mary was still wiping his forehead even though she knew he was dead. She stared silently and vacantly. She was not crying. She was spent, there were no more tears to shed. When the doorway darkened she looked up and saw the messenger. She paused.

Her gut felt so heavy, and her body felt hollow. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and mustered up the courage to ask him, “well? ” her eyes fixed stonily on him, not wanting to hear the answer.

The messenger threw his head back and clutched his forehead with one of his hands. He knew that he had to tell her the truth even though she wouldn’t like it. He ran his hand down his face and stopped at his chin.

“Jesus said, that this illness doesn’t lead to death . . .”—he choked. There in front of him was a dead man. He plucked up enough courage to say the rest. “he also said that the illness was for God’s glory so that the son may be glorified through it.” Silence. “and that was all he said.” He looked desperately at her, trying to communicate that he was just the messenger so she wouldn’t get mad at him.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. She looked away as her rage began to fill her emptiness. The news was salt massagerd in her wound. This was the first time that Jesus had been wrong.

What did he mean by that. Here’s Lazarus and he’s dead and Jesus did nothing about it. Simple as that. She’d even seen Jesus heal someone from afar and that was a roman’s daughter who he didn’t know from a bar of soap. Yet here, here was Lazarus, one of Jesus’ best mates, a Jew even and he did nothing to stop it? Even worse, tried to put a theological spin on it? And even worse than that, got it plain wrong? How does that work?

And these things collided with each other in her mind as she tried to reconcile this inactive Jesus with the rest of her experience of him.

She could on one level understand why he hadn’t come back to heal Lazarus after all a week ago the local ministers had tried to kill him for saying some pretty controversial stuff. He basically had claimed to be God and even had tried to bring some biblical support for it. so sure, he didn’t need to come back, but why couldn’t he still have acted. Next to her brother who was dead because of Jesus’ inaction…she shook her head in disbelief. Jesus until this point had been able to anything and she really believed he would do something here. But he didn’t. Lazarus was dead. Jesus had failed and got it wrong. Jesus had forsaken her. And the pain was just unbelievable.

Mary hung her head and lowered her forehead onto her dead brother’s chest. “why?” she whispered but it wasn’t a question. “Why.”

Two days had passed. Lazarus was buried and the mourning was taking place. He had been wrapped in burial clothes and had been anointed with oils. People had finished weeping and wailing, beating their chests. A massive stone had been set against the tomb and sealed Lazarus in to decay in peace.

The business began of remembering things about him, laughing about his antics, nodding their heads in approval at just how good a guy he had been. The horror of the pneumonia was now a thing of the past as people let their good and bad memories flood the house. There was a sense of togetherness and closeness as people shared deeply and held each other. It was a beautiful time, but no-one spoke of Jesus.

Everyone who had stuck around were simply there to console and keep Mary and Martha comforted.

“I’ve just been told he’s coming.” Martha looked at Mary. “what do you want me to do?” Mary tightened her lips together and seethed. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Martha you go and just keep him away from here. I don’t have anything nice to say to him. He could’ve stopped this and he didn’t.”

Martha got up and went to meet Jesus before he made it into the village. She knew that there were enough angry people there that this could quickly get out of hand.

She was angry too, but she knew that it just wouldn’t do to have this time of mourning disrupted by violence. she saw Jesus in the distance and her gut gave way.

she had so much she wanted to say to him. So much. And little of it was nice, she had these images in her head of a man that didn’t care, it was the only way she could cope, to distil Jesus down into a callous and uncaring monster who was a trickster and a fraud, a brilliant magician but a charlatan nonetheless. But as she drew closer he became familiar again. She stopped for a moment and thought. “Damn it, I still respect him.” Gave a deep breath and continued on to meet him. Her chest began to tighten with nerves as she approached.

Jesus noticed her and quickened his steps toward her. As they came closer a look of compassion was all over his face but as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t trust it. He reached out to embrace her and she stopped and stepped away from him. Their eyes were the only things that locked.

She looked at the great healer : despising yet respecting. A strange mix. She couldn’t deny how much he had done for her, yet she also couldn’t deny how he hadn’t come through when it mattered most.

Tears welled up and she blurted “Jesus. If you had been here he wouldn’t have died.” She wanted to punch him but instead stared angrily at him.

“Jesus. Can you hear me? If you had been here he wouldn’t have died. You could have stopped him. I know that for a fact because you seem to ask God for things and he gives them to you without a second thought. You could have prayed and it would’ve been fine. But you didn’t. if you had been here it wouldn’t have happened.”

Jesus still with compassion, almost with a secret, almost with a shred of hope that no-one else had, and with a manner that hinted at another ending to her story he said to her. “Martha, your brother will rise again.”

She widened her eyes at him and put her head to one side. “Eh? Um Jesus. That’s really not much comfort right now. I don’t need your theology right now. I need answers from you. Answers like, why didn’t you save him? Why didn’t the great healer heal him. He was a faithful friend, yet you’ve shown more compassion to the beggars on the street. What gives with that Jesus? How come you save and heal them but not us? We know at the last day of existence in the big picture if you like, at the end of time he will rise again BUT THAT DOESN’T HELP ME NOW DOES IT! So will all the beggars who you’ve healed. You’ve done mighty things for those who don’t know you. What about me? What about us who are faithful? Surely there’s meant to be some kind of protection for us?” and she began to rant about how unfair it all was, about how it hurts now and that future hope is small compared to this pain she feels in the present, that Jesus had let her down by not coming when she sent the messenger, that Lazarus’ death was waste and made no sense.

“Martha, stop. Listen to me. I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die they will live. Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. You are quite right. I could have come and saved him, but does that automatically mean I have to. Life and death are meaningless to me in the physical sense. I’m concerned about eternal consequences. And the people around here ought to be concerned about that too. You weep as though you have lost someone into the abyss. Death is so final for you. Life is so fragile for you. But you also know that death isn’t the end!

“What’s my message been all along? It’s not just been about the here and now, but about the then and there. My miracles are not to show that we should expect happiness now, but to show where the power over life and death are. In me. My miracles are not just about giving people a new start here and now, but about giving me spiritual credibility. They are pointers to the greater story which is not just here in this physical existence.

“People are afraid of death. And life is so precious. Life is so precious. But I’ve never said that! Take up your cross and follow me. These are the words I speak, store up riches in heaven not on earth. Love your enemies not because it gives you peace but because it points them to heaven. Give to the poor, not because they need clothes, but because your love is your miracle in this world that thinks nothing of them.

“And no-one seems to be getting this Martha. No-one seems to be understanding that this life is just a fraction of eternity. True blessing comes in paradise, outside of this existence. There’s more to the story of life, much more. Death isn’t a full stop, it’s a comma. That’s why we can give everything away, why we can lay our lives down easily for others, why we can put others first, why we don’t need money to rule us, why we can love people more than we love ourselves. Do you see? Do you see why I’ve said to people that it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for the rich man to enter into heaven? It’s because this life is nothing if people think it’s everything.

“I am the resurrection and the life. Life is precious as a gift from God, but eternal life is more precious. Set your minds on the things above.

“do you remember how I would see crowds and crowds of people, and they all needed healing, but I would stop healing and preach to them? Do you remember that? Why do you think I would do that? Why would I let people remain in suffering so that I could preach? Because my miracles needed to be put in context. I am not about making this life cushy and pain free. I’m here to save you from an eternity without God.

“I am the resurrection and the life. My miracles are not just for the benefit now but for eternal benefit. Martha. Do you believe that I am life?”

His tone was frustrated and fierce.

His disciples still didn’t understand the significance of this message. That this Jesus is what we need to find fulfilment in. if we hold this life too precious then we fail. If we pursue our own individual precious goals and do not factor God into them, then have we really listened to his message? Take up our cross. What does that mean? We normally think it means suffering, but didn’t Jesus suffer unto death? Take up your cross and follow me?

And Jesus looked around at everyone in front of him.

“I am the resurrection and the life. Martha. Do you believe this?”

And Martha didn’t want to. It meant too much. It meant that her dreams of happiness needed to be laid at the feet of the one whom she called lord. She knew that if she acknowledged this fact that it was possible that God actually allowed Lazarus to die. That the resentment she felt towards God was unwarranted. That the feelings of anger to Jesus were unfair. That she had been selfish in wanting Lazarus to live. That she had placed too much importance on the preciousness of this life and not believed enough in the eternal life. But she had to and she spoke.

“Jesus, My Lord, in my heart I believe that you are God’s son and the one who can save all into heaven. Your will be done.” And with that she left to find Mary and bring her to Jesus.

Mary came to Jesus. She was angry. She had stormed out of the house, absolutely livid that Jesus could manipulate her sister like that. “Bull pucky” she shouted had Martha.

“If he is the saviour of life, why can’t he save us from our pain now? Tell me that? Life isn’t meant to be painful. If he loves us why can’t he let us have life to the full now? That means having our family together don’t you think? It means no suffering don’t you think? A happy life is a fulfilling life. We should be happy not gut-wrenched. There’s no peace here.”

“Damn it Martha, you were supposed to protect us from him, to keep him away from here. But instead you’ve brought him right into the painful heart of it all. I’ll go and sort it out myself.”

But as she approached Jesus she softened. He was her friend after all and had shown her so much kindness. So much compassion. So much care. He had given her a new start.

And she fell at his feet her anger dissipated, but her disappointment remained.

“Jesus, if you’d been here he would not have died.”

But this time, it was an accusation. Jesus the lucky charm to fix it all and his heart sank. There were many others around him now, those who had followed Mary because they thought she was going to the tomb to weep there. But now that they saw Jesus, those that felt he could’ve made a difference fired disappointed stares at Jesus.

But why? Why this expectation? Why couldn’t they see what he was about? Why couldn’t people after all that they had seen and heard from Jesus, why couldn’t they understand?

And his heart was heavy because people didn’t see. They just didn’t see. And time went into slow motion as he looked across the crowd at the full gamut of emotions. They were grieving, they were disappointed, they were let down. They accused him of not being there, they accused him of arriving at all. Some had nothing to say to him, some were seething with a million unkind words. And He knew they didn’t get it. They were still more interested in life now.

“Where is the tomb?” he asked.

And in a split second all the looks on the people’s faces changed. All the doubts turned to interest, all the hate turned to a welcome, where there was mourning, there was perhaps a sigh of relief. Some thought he was going to simply pay his respects and move on, others wondered if there might be a miracle here, especially after his comment about resurrection earlier.

And Jesus looked around at them as they eerily formed around him and guided him to the tomb. Jesus wept.

And people said, “look how much he loved Lazarus.” But that wasn’t why he wept. Others wondered if he was disappointed in himself for letting Lazarus die. But that wasn’t why he wept either.

He wept because the eternal message just wasn’t getting through and the end of his ministry on earth was drawing to a rapid close : he only had another few weeks and then it would all be over. Would they listen this time though? If he raised Lazarus from the grave would they believe?

They approached the tomb. It had been four days. There was a medical superstition that the spirit of someone would hang around the body for three days in case the body was revived. On the fourth day, everyone had lost hope and the tomb was sealed.

The tomb was just a cave in the side of a small cliff, and it had a big slab of stone over it.

Jesus ordered that they remove the stone.

There were protesting looks shot at him and when his face didn’t change, they were redirected at Martha. How could Jesus just keep on being so insensitive about this burial. Just let them grieve for crying out loud. And Martha seeing the impatience in the crowd went up to Jesus, “What are you doing? He’s been dead for four days, there’s a stench in there.”

And Jesus said to her : “do you believe?” and their eyes locked as she remembered their talk just before. And afraid, going out on a limb, taking a step of faith, knowing the crowd would be mightily upset with her for doing this, being careful not to look at her sister she said nodded at the men to remove the stone. And they removed it and a foul stench flooded the crowd. People coughed and gagged and were now quite incensed at Jesus. “Who in hell does he think he is?”

And Jesus prayed to God.

“Let them know that you are God through this act.” And he looked at the tomb and shouted. “Lazarus, come out.”

Crowd made double takes at Jesus. Did he really say that. Not sure where to look. A few seconds seemed to last ages. But the crowd were now reluctantly curious. They were now amazed at Jesus’ craziness, but their curiosity had overtaken their sense of decorum, their appetite for interest dissolved their despise for his tastelessness. And they looked intently at dark hole in the rock as though they were watching a reality TV show.

And for Mary and Martha that hole in the cliff represented their pain. And for many of us, that gaping hole in the cliff is that pain that we carry in our life. And it hurts. It hurts so bad. And some of us think that Jesus will take away that pain. But it doesn’t work like that. Some of us think that if he took our pain away then we could live a more fulfilling life. But it doesn’t work like that. What if Jesus lets us down?

We want Jesus to reach down and make it all better, because we know he can, and so we think he should. What if he doesn’t? Where is our faith?

And we stare into the gaping hole in the side of the cliff and we want to know what will happen. Has our prayer been heard? Will the divine really be sprinkled on our life?

And we think that pain is not part of a fulfilled life. And we think that God wants us to reach our dreams and aspirations. And that he will remove the obstacles in our way. but it doesn’t work like that.

The reason Jesus told Lazarus to come out of the tomb was not to make Mary and Martha a happy family again. It was for the benefit of those who were watching to see that his message was a message from above. If this miracle came off, then people would see that Jesus is truly the resurrection and the life. He will have demonstrated power over all things: power over the authorities on earth : overturning tables in the temple; power over social prejudice : hanging out with the untouchables in society; power over the prevailing religious practices : people were amazed at his teaching in the synagogue; power over the elements : water into wine; power over nature : withering the fig tree; power over intellectual disorders : the mute man could speak; power over the demonic : legion into the pigs; power over the weather : stopping the storm; power over sickness : healing after healing; and now power over life and death in no uncertain terms. Yet still people did not believe in his message! Love God and love people. That’s what life is about. He was extremely critical of any lifestyle that didn’t put God and others first. This is a reflection of whether or not we believe. And that’s the question I leave you with. Do you believe or are you looking for that next miracle?

Belief is hard yards, miracles are instant fix. Which one brings depth of relationship?