Belief Is Better than Relief from Grief

John 11:32-44

32 When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said,  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. 34 “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.

35 Jesus wept.

36 Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

37 But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

38 Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. 39 “Take away the stone,” he said.

“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”

40 Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

41 So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”

43 When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.

Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

Belief Is Better than Relief from Grief

Have you ever played the “what if” game? Have you ever wondered what would have happened if you had met your spouse when you were both still in high school? Have you ever wondered how far you would have made it in your amateur sports career if you hadn’t broken your wrist? What if you didn’t take the job, or you did and it would have meant that you would have had to move to another city?

There are so many what ifs you could ask. But do you know when we often ask them the most? When tragedy strikes.

My siblings and I played that “game” this summer before and after my mom died. What if, 15 years ago, she had never contracted a staph infection during a “routine” surgery? What if that staph infection never reached her heart? What if she hadn’t cut her arm a couple years ago? She wouldn’t have needed to go to the hospital, which meant that she wouldn’t have been put in that medical transport. What if that driver had actually buckled her seatbelt? Then when they got into a car accident, she probably wouldn’t have broken her leg, which means that she wouldn’t have been as weak and unstable, which could have prevented the final fall that landed her in the hospital before she died. If any one of the links in that chain of events had been broken, I wouldn’t be talking about it today. Mom would very much likely still be here.

Maybe you’ve played that same “game” when one of your loved ones died. What if things had happened differently? That’s what Lazarus’ sisters wondered. We only heard Mary say it in our reading for today, but a few verses earlier Martha said the exact same thing:

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”[1]

They had seen him perform miracles before. Just recently he restored sight to a blind man. They believed that he was the Messiah – the promised Saviour of the world, the Son of God sent from heaven to deliver mankind from suffering. They had every confidence that had Jesus been there 4 days earlier he could have cured whatever fever, cold, cancer or flu afflicted Lazarus.

And it’s worth pointing out that that’s true. Jesus could have cured whatever ailed Lazarus. But just because he could have, does that mean he would have? Had Jesus been there, would the result have been any different? Jesus gave his disciples a clue on the day he first heard about Lazarus’ sickness:

“This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.”[2]

And then, strange as it seemed to his disciples at the time – and to Mary and Martha later – Jesus stayed where he was for 2 more days. He had the opportunity to be there. He chose not to and as a result, when he did arrive outside of Bethany, he was met by a mob of mourning Jews, Mary and Martha among them, and Jesus himself shed his own tears outside of his dear friend’s grave.  

Sometimes we play the “What if” game. How about a game of “Would you rather?” Would you rather have a God who grieves over tragedy, or one who prevents it? The answer seems like a no-brainer at first, doesn’t it? Of course we’d want a God who prevents tragedy! I’m grateful to have a God who grieves with me, but I’d rather have no reason for anyone to grieve at all.

But let me ask you this, if we had a God who always prevented every tragedy, what would that do to your faith and his glory? If nothing bad ever happened, would you begin to believe that nothing bad ever should happen, i.e. that you deserve happiness, that God owes it to you? If this life always presented a straight and easy road, would you fall asleep behind the wheel, i.e. would you grow complacent, even contemptuous about God’s almighty power and grace? If you never saw the problems and never felt the pain, would you ever appreciate his salvation and his promised consolation?

That’s the problem. We live in an imperfect world, and we are an imperfect part of it. Like Mary and Martha, we doubt the goodness, wisdom, power, and grace of God not so much by asking the questions but by making the statements we so often do when tragedy strikes, e.g. “God, if you had just _____, then none of this would have happened.” But what does that kind of comment say about us? That we know better than God? That we can see all ends? That our plans are always best? That God is some kind of dummy? That God wasn’t there at the river or on the road or in the hospital? That God doesn’t care?

God absolutely does care. And if you ever doubted it, read the shortest verse in the Bible again. It reads like a novel of God’s compassion and care for this fallen world and the sinful people who live in it:  

Jesus wept.[3]

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It’s a tender and touching moment to see the raw emotion of our Saviour. Lazarus’ death touched his heart too. But it does beg the question, Why? Why would Jesus cry? He was holding a miracle in his back pocket that was going to bring a smile to every one of those grieving faces. Why would he weep? There are two answers in this passage:

When Jesus saw [Mary] weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.[4]

Jesus wept at the toll that sin and death take in human life. Jesus grieves to see you grieve. His heart breaks at your heartbreaks. None of this brings him joy for a second, even if he knows we have every reason to have hope for a better future. The pain of the present pains him too. But there’s also this:

Some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”[5]

Jesus also grieves at our lack of understanding and hope. And I think this is worth pointing out, because our English translation doesn’t do us any favours. In English, Jesus does the same thing that Mary and Martha and the rest of the mourners do: he weeps. In Greek, though, they weep; he sheds tears. There’s a difference, isn’t there? It’s not as if Jesus isn’t sincere in his sadness; he’s literally moved to tears. It’s just that he doesn’t weep and mourn like people who have no hope.

Jesus knew the answer. Jesus knew that in a few moments’ time he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead and therefore also raise the spirits of everyone else who was there. More than that, though, Jesus knew that what he was about to do for Lazarus was going to serve as a preview of what Jesus would do for all mankind in just a few days’ time.

What’s easy to forget about this passage is that this trip to Bethany served as the launching pad for Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead took place mere days before he raised himself from the dead. Jesus was preparing the people’s hearts for a hope that was even better than getting a loved one back from the dead.

Let me ask you another “Would you rather?” Would you rather have a God who grieves over tragedy, or one who prevents it? What about a God who reverses tragedy?

One of those three things feels rare, but it happens far more often than you know. The other two happen all the time without exception. God doesn’t always prevent tragedy, but he does more often than you could know. How many close calls have you survived? How many near misses have you experienced? Or think about it this way, how few close calls have you had? Can you count them on fewer fingers than you have on one hand? That’s God’s preservation at work in your life! He is protecting and preserving you.

But even in those moments when in his wisdom and love and grace he allows tragedy to strike, the other two options are true without exception too. He weeps with you and grieves for you. He knows your pain; he’s felt it. He willingly sent his Son into the teeth of this world’s greatest tragedy to save you from eternal disaster.

Jesus didn’t deserve to die. He’s the only person in this world we could say that about. The rest of us are sinners. Like Mary and Martha, we doubt the power, wisdom, glory, and grace of our Father in heaven. But Jesus didn’t. He obeyed his Father even though that obedience led straight to the cross, because he loved his Father and trusted him, and because he loves you and was willing to die for sins that weren’t his own, so that your sins could be forgiven.

Like the mourners who came to grieve at Lazarus’ grave, we fixate on our earthly problems when tragedy strikes. But Jesus didn’t. He had your heavenly future in mind. That’s why he didn’t weep, but only shed tears, because while the sadness is real, it will not last forever. Jesus knew the greater miracle that he would perform in a few days’ time by rising from the dead himself, and giving you the hope of eternal life at his side in heaven, with all the saints who have died in faith and have gone before us to our Father’s home.

We are tempted to look back in time and play the what if game, wondering what might have been. God reminds us what is and what will be because of Jesus. We have a God who does protect and preserve us, more than we realize. We have a God who sheds real tears over our human heartaches. But best of all, we have a God who reverses tragedy, by living, dying and rising from the dead, and thereby giving us comfort in this life and hope for the next.

We could play “what if” all day long, but we can know that one thing that will always be better than relief from grief is our belief in the Son God sent to save us and the glory he will reveal to us through him. To him be all power and glory and honour and praise forever and ever. Amen.

[1] John 11:32

[2] John 11:4

[3] John 11:35

[4] John 11:33

[5] John 11:37,38

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Christians Have Rights (and Roles) Too!

1 Corinthians 9:7-12,19-23

7 Who serves as a soldier at his own expense? Who plants a vineyard and does not eat its grapes? Who tends a flock and does not drink the milk? 8 Do I say this merely on human authority? Doesn’t the Law say the same thing? 9 For it is written in the Law of Moses: “Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain.” Is it about oxen that God is concerned? 10 Surely he says this for us, doesn’t he? Yes, this was written for us, because whoever plows and threshes should be able to do so in the hope of sharing in the harvest. 11 If we have sown spiritual seed among you, is it too much if we reap a material harvest from you? 12 If others have this right of support from you, shouldn’t we have it all the more?

But we did not use this right. On the contrary, we put up with anything rather than hinder the gospel of Christ.

19 Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. 20 To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. 21 To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law), so as to win those not having the law. 22 To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. 23 I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.

Christians Have Rights (and Roles) Too!

Have you ever heard about the 3 things you’re never supposed to talk about in polite conversation? Politics, religion, and money. Well, we’re going to talk about all 3 today.

I’ve never preached on this text before – and this is my 500th sermon! – because it’s kind of awkward. 1 Corinthians 9 is the proof passage for why you pay pastors. As a pastor, that’s an uncomfortable topic. I don’t particularly enjoy talking about my salary or why you should give it to me. But let’s do the awkward thing and talk about money because by the end, I promise it won’t be about money at all.

Paul starts out by giving us several examples of something that is completely absurd:

Who serves as a soldier at his own expense? Who plants a vineyard and does not eat its grapes? Who tends a flock and doesn’t drink the milk?[1]

That would be ridiculous. We wouldn’t dream of making our military pay for the right to defend us with their lives. We wouldn’t dream of asking the people who provide us with our food to pay for the privilege of doing so. In both cases, we should be bending over backwards to show our appreciation to the people who render us such necessary service.

This isn’t rocket science. It’s common sense. But it’s more than that. It’s biblical. It’s divine. It’s a direct command from God himself:

For it is written in the Law of Moses: “Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain.”[2]

Not only would that be nothing short of animal cruelty, it would be counterproductive. If you want that ox to tread out the grain, it’s going to need energy and sustenance to do the work you want it to do. So, just as it is in your best interest to feed your beasts of burden, it is in your best interest to physically support those who serve you spiritually. Jesus himself says it, “The worker deserves his wages.”[3] He has every right to expect material support from you for offering spiritual service to you.

Paul makes a convincing and common sense case for paying your pastor. But then he says something almost as absurd as expecting a soldier to serve in the military at his own expense:

But we did not use this right.[4]

Who would do that? Who would refuse the wages he had every right to claim? You wouldn’t do that, would you? At the end of the month, when your boss hands you your cheque would you say, “Don’t worry about it; this month’s on me”? Of course not! So why would Paul? Was he independently wealthy? Did he not need the money? He definitely did. In fact, we read about that last week – how, when Paul was in Thessalonica, it was the people in Philippi who paid his way. Paul had needs, just like the rest of us. Why would he relinquish his right to remuneration? He tells us:

On the contrary, we put up with anything rather than hinder the gospel of Christ.[5]

What Paul is saying here about paying your pastor is 100% true and timelessly relevant. No Christian anywhere should expect to be spiritually served at someone else’s expense. But in the broader context of his letter to the Christians in Corinth, this is just one example of a larger point that Paul was making, like what he says a chapter earlier:

Be careful that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak.[6]

Christians have rights – like the right of a pastor to expect to be paid. But that’s just one example. You have rights, like the right to worship in a three-piece suit or a t-shirt and flip flops, to use the common cup or the individual (the alcoholic wine or non-alcoholic grape juice) in the Sacrament, to listen to a certain genre of music, to vote for a certain political party, to drive a certain kind of car – without any other Christian judging you for the choices that you make.

But in the exercise of your rights, you have to be careful that you do not become a stumbling block in the way of someone else’s faith.

Far too often, I think we forget how much our words and actions impact the faith of the people around us. We are all too often content to see them only as our sons and daughters – our fathers and mothers, our coworkers and neighbours – and to forget that they are blood-bought children of God with spiritual needs of their own. And that’s an immediately practical reality we face every day of our lives.

It’s one thing for me to have the freedom to root for a different sports team than my dad. We are free to disagree. My cheering for the Cowboys when they lay a beatdown on his Lions might hurt his feelings, but it won’t hurt his faith. On the other hand, if I drink a six pack of beer while watching the game in front of a family member who struggles with alcoholism, then I could hurt their feelings and their faith. Instead of being an instrument of God’s grace to that person’s life, I could become a stumbling block for them, i.e. a cause of sin in their lives and a roadblock preventing the Gospel from finding a home in their heart.

Your actions – the way you exercise your God-given rights and freedoms – can negatively impact someone else’s faith. And then they’re not rights and freedoms anymore. They’re sin. Paul minces no words about this:

When you sin against them in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ.[7]

And that sword cuts both ways. That’s not only true of the things you do, it’s also true of the things you are willing to have done to you. Remember what we heard Paul say earlier:

We put up with anything rather than hinder the gospel of Christ.[8]

Is that true of you? Or are you easily offended at the exercise of someone else’s God-given rights and freedoms? If someone disagrees with you about a policy or a politician do you get huffy about it and take your ball and go home, or worse, do you harbour hatred in your heart and say things, out loud or to yourself, that are hateful and hurtful? If someone makes a choice that you wouldn’t have made (that in itself isn’t sinful), do you turn up your nose at them or tear them down to their face or behind their back?

Are you willing to give up your rights and freedoms – to inconvenience yourself and swim in a sea of discomfort – for the sake of someone else’s faith? To go out of your way and risk your relationship so that they can hear the gospel? Are you willing to forego your righteous anger and forgive a person who sinned against you so that they can see in you the love of Christ for them?

Paul talks about how he was willing to do that:

Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews.[9]

Did you know that when Paul went to Lystra and Derbe, he encouraged Timothy to be circumcised just so as not to offend the weak consciences of the Jews there? That’s a pretty drastic step to take just to avoid the possibility of causing offense. But Paul and Timothy weren’t hell-bent on asserting their rights. They were willing to put up with anything rather than hinder the Gospel of Christ. If getting circumcised would open the door of talking about Jesus to a Jew, they were willing to do it, as crazy as it sounds.

To the weak I became weak, to win the weak.[10]

Did you know that Paul was willing never to eat meat again if it meant reaching people who weren’t sure whether eating meat was ethical? He was willing to change his entire lifestyle in service to the Gospel and to other people.

Paul is a shining example of putting up with anything rather than hindering the gospel of Christ. But here’s the thing, when Paul did it, that made him a good guy. When Jesus did it, that made him your Saviour.

Think about the rights and freedoms that Jesus relinquished for you. He had the right to stay in heaven and not get his hands dirty or descend into this sin-filled world and get tangled up in the messes we make. He had the right to insist on being treated better by the very people he came to save. He had the right to defend himself when he was unjustly arrested and falsely accused and wrongfully condemned. But he surrendered those rights and willingly put up with injustice and torment and death for you.

That’s what he said in our Gospel today:

“For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”[11]

Jesus did not put his own rights or freedoms – or bodily needs – ahead of his love for you. He gave up everything to win your forgiveness and your salvation and your eternal life and your heart.

That’s why Paul was willing to be the good guy he was and put up with anything rather than hinder the gospel of Christ, because the gospel of Christ means forgiveness, life, and salvation for all who believe. Because he knew that his words and actions had an impact on the faith of the other people around him. And their spiritual wellbeing was so much more important than the enjoyment of his personal, God-given rights and freedoms.

And that’s true for you too. You have God-given rights and freedoms as a Christian, but you also have a role in God’s plan of salvation for the people in your life. Be careful that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak. Instead do everything for the sake of the gospel. Be all things to all people so that by all possible means you might save some, just as you have been saved and forgiven and set free by the selfless sacrifice of our Saviour Jesus. Amen.  

[1] 1 Corinthians 9:7

[2] 1 Corinthians 9:9

[3] Luke 10:7

[4] 1 Corinthians 9:12

[5] 1 Corinthians 9:12

[6] 1 Corinthians 8:9

[7] 1 Corinthians 8:12

[8] 1 Corinthians 9:12

[9] 1 Corinthians 9:19,20

[10] 1 Corinthians 9:22

[11] Mark 10:45

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