Life

(John 11:17-45)

If you’re familiar with John chapter 11, then you have already stood in awe of the rock-solid faith of both Mary & Martha. Martha professed to Jesus her confidence in the Resurrection when she stated that she knew her brother would be raised on the last day. “Martha answered, ‘I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day’” (v.24). In one beautiful confession, she acknowledged believing both that Jesus would return on the last day and that when he did, all believers would rise again, including her brother. 

Yet her faith was not just a forward-looking faith; in looking backward, it also assured her of how differently her brother’s sickness could have ended. “‘Lord,’ Martha said to Jesus, ‘if you had been here, my brother would not have died’” (v.21). We see Mary demonstrate the exact same confidence. “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’” (v.32). Subtle as it might be, notice they don’t express mere optimism that it could have gone differently if Jesus had arrived earlier, saving Lazarus from death, but complete confidence that it would have gone differently because Jesus would have healed him. 

First of all, where does this kind of faith come from? To get the full picture, I think that any time we come across John 11, it should always be read with Luke 10 in mind. That’s where Luke records for us the account of Jesus at the home of Mary and Martha, long before Lazarus had even been sick. At that time, Martha was busying herself tidying up the house and preparing food for Jesus. In her mind, Mary was just sitting around doing nothing while she did all the work.

But Jesus saw it differently. He used that opportunity not to rebuke Martha for her loving service, but to remind her that Mary had made the better choice: to prioritize hearing the Word. Whenever we have the opportunity to listen to Jesus, take it.

Why does that account fit so well with what we have here in John 11? Because it would appear that over the course of time between that visit from Jesus and the death of Lazarus, the sisters took Jesus’ encouragement to heart, prioritized his teachings in their lives, and their faith was strengthened as a result. That would explain the sisters’ beautiful expression of confident faith that Jesus would have healed Lazarus if he had arrived earlier. 

Of course, that kind of faith comes with a catch, doesn’t it? When we know what God can do, it can lead us to struggle when he doesn’t. Some who were present expressed that very struggle when they witnessed all of the grieving and sadness caused by the death of Lazarus. “But some of them said, ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?’” (v.37). If he was able to act, then why didn’t he?

As you faced the ugly, gut-wrenching reality of the death of someone close to you, perhaps you’ve had similar questions weigh heavily on you. You’ve wondered it previously: why didn’t Jesus, who reveals in Scripture both that he can heal disease and raise others from the dead, why didn’t he intervene when it came to my father, my mother, my spouse, my loved one? He could have, but instead, he did nothing. Why? Well-intentioned fellow Christians have tried to provide every possible response to appease this frustration, but their answers don’t satisfy us. We still come back to this: “if God could have, then why didn’t he?”

Or, like Martha, you’ve both confessed and struggled with the reality of a Savior who was capable of healing and holding off death, but did not. “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask” (v.22). Do you hear the confident trust in her words, coupled with the longing of what her heart truly desires? She both expresses confidence that Jesus had the power to save her brother from dying, but also that, “it’s not too late, Lord – and I am optimistic that even now you can choose to grant my heart’s desire and raise my brother from the dead.”

Is it too much to ask of God to somehow have asked even this sort of miracle in the life of my loved one? Why not a miracle? Why not my loved one? Was my loved one not worthy of this type of death-defying miracle that Lazarus received? Am I not worthy of it? 

Before we allow Jesus to address and answer these questions, we want to remember how God himself feels about death. And, like no other account in Scripture, this event provides us with a powerful example.

At the beginning of this whole narrative, we see the risk Jesus was willing to take to deal with death: his disciples were afraid for his own life! When Jesus shared his desire to go to Lazarus, they were shocked. “‘But Rabbi,’ they said, ‘a short while ago the Jews there tried to stone you, and yet you are going back?’” (v.8). They realized Jesus was putting himself in danger by going anywhere near Lazarus, where he would be putting himself right back in the thick of those trying to kill him. Is there really any question if Jesus cares about people dying when he’s willing to put his own life on the line to do something about it???

We also experience Lazarus’ death from Jesus’ perspective. “When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. ‘Where have you laid him?’ he asked. ‘Come and see, Lord,’ they replied. Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’ (v.33-36). “Jesus wept!” And it wasn’t just because he missed his friend – the one he was going to raise back to life in just a moment! – but also because he personally witnessed firsthand the devastating effect death has on people in this world. 

How much does God care? Since Jesus came into this broken world, let’s not presume he doesn’t care about death or loss. He’s actually the One person able to do something about it. And he showed it powerfully with Lazarus. “So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, ‘Father, I thank you that you have heard me. 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.’ When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ 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’” (John 11:41-44). Can we question if God really cares about people dying after a miracle like this? Hardly!

But we must go further, because Jesus also knows what happens to those who die physically who are also spiritually dead at the same time: that they are lost forever to hell. God expressed this concern through the prophet Ezekiel, saying, “As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign Lord, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die, people of Israel?” (Ezekiel 33:11). So yes, God certainly cares about death, and far more than we could imagine, as his heart is concerned not just about the pain of needing to plan a funeral, but the possibility of being lost eternally. 

But we must go further still. Why did Jesus raise Lazarus? Was it simply to dry the tears of mourning loved ones? To undo the sting of death?

He revealed it by his own words when he spoke to his Father, explaining the deeper intent behind this miraculous occasion, “that they may believe you sent me” (v.42). God knows our greatest need: faith in him! God knows there is no hope for anyone who does not believe.

Even before Jesus arrived at the gravesite, he had already said the same thing to his disciples. “[Jesus] told them plainly, ‘Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe” (v.14-15). God knows our greatest need: faith in him! God can do so much more than raise a corpse to be alive again; he can bring dead souls to be spiritually alive, guaranteeing not just an extension of a longer life here on earth for a few more years, but for an eternity! 

And his raising of Lazarus from the dead didn’t just bring Lazarus back for a few years, but rescued souls for eternity. “Therefore many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him” (v.45).

Isn’t that how God operates? We have tunnel vision, focusing on the one thing, and all the while God is thinking of the bigger picture. He gave sisters back their dead brother, but he gave who-knows-how-many onlookers the greatest gift of all: saving faith in him. They heard Jesus’ powerful words and saw them in action with their own eyes, and through it, the Holy Spirit gifted them with faith and eternal life. Jesus gave so much more than just life to the dead!

The resurrection of Lazarus was not a promise that God will miraculously raise our loved ones from the dead here and now.

It’s a promise much greater than that.

God WILL raise all those in Christ on the Last Day, and it will be forever. God knows our desire and exceeds what we could ask for by promising not just a few more years together in this short blip of life that barely even registers on the timeline of eternity, but he promises forever together for all who believe in him. 

Lazarus died again. You will die. I will die. We will all have our own John 11 story. But it’s not the dying that sets us apart. We have that in common with all people. Everyone dies.

But what sets us apart, what is uniquely shared among us and all believers, is that we know the One who lived again. We know the One who still lives. We know the One who will live forever. And through faith in him, we know that we, too, will live with him forever, together with all of our loved ones who in faith fall asleep in Jesus. 

A Real Christmas Is (Not) All About You

(Luke 1:39-55)

Whether you have it on repeat or you skip it every time it comes on, the song is popular enough to engrain in our hearts and minds that Christmas is “the most wonderful time of the year.” Even if it’s been a while (or never) since you’ve sung carols in the snow (especially if you live in CA), toasted marshmallows, or gone “mistletoeing,” the song ushers in warm and fond memories of Christmases past that put us in the mood to celebrate once again. For so many, it really is the most wonderful time of the year.

But there’s another possible label that is very fitting for this time of year. It could also be known as “The Most Deceptive Time of the Year.” Consider how much of an emphasis is placed on giving. The expression “it’s better to give than to receive” probably gets more exposure during the month of December than it does the other eleven months of the year combined. Organizations have Giving Trees displayed to help those in need. Retailers even guilt us with the enticement to shop at their store to make sure you’re giving the perfect gift.

It might sound like I’m blasting all of those examples outright, as if they are inherently sinister or shady. That certainly isn’t the case. As they stand on their own, they are good reminders, and necessary ones, so that I don’t allow a season associated with gift exchanges to become entirely about what gifts I’m getting. 

No, the warning comes in recognizing how persistently our pride seeks to make everything – even giving – about us. Yes, our pride is such a master of disguise that it can even expertly hide behind something that on the surface appears to be all about other people. That’s why this season can be so deceptive. A season of giving and putting others first is simply another way for my pride to place itself on a pedestal for all to see.

Don’t underestimate our pride’s ability to hide behind giving. A whole season that is supposedly all about giving is the perfect cloak under which to hide my pride. So when I hear the reminder that it’s better to give than to receive, my pride perks up at the word “better,” and immediately zeros in on my own selfless acts of generosity and raises them up far above those other people who only complain about not getting this gift or that gift, or how cheap someone was toward them in their gift exchange. I don’t hesitate to impress others with my stories, making sure they haven’t missed the news of my participation in this Giving Tree campaign or that toy drive or that other cause for people in need. When others come to know me as the person who always gives such good gifts, is my giving really about finding that perfect gift for the other person or has it become more about keeping up that reputation of world’s greatest gift-giver? In each of these cases, can we see ourselves as the puffed up pharisee standing next to the tax collector, thanking God that he’s not more like that guy? It’s such a natural bent that we have toward sin that pride can even make something like giving all about me. Then we’re doing the opposite of everyone’s favorite Christmas magnet, “Keeping Christ in Christmas,” by taking out the “Christ” and replacing it with ourselves.

But here’s the rub: if we are going to experience a real Christmas this year, we have to come clean with our natural inclination to make it about us. As long as we imagine that the responsibility of making it a real Christmas or giving someone else a real Christmas, we’re going to end up with an artificial attempt that is worse than a fake tree so bad that not even Goodwill can unload it. So, want a real Christmas? Realize it’s not about you. 

Don’t you get a clear sense of that from both Mary and Elizabeth? Well, kind of, anyway. It was about them, but not about what they had done or achieved or about being recognized by others, but rather about what they had received: God’s grace. And as they express their amazement of being on the receiving end of such favor, they clearly realize how little they deserve it!

Appreciate first how Elizabeth reflected this. “In a loud voice she exclaimed: ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” (v.42-45). Elizabeth’s attitude wasn’t one of arrogant expectation that Mary would visit her, since she would after all be giving birth to John the Baptist, the forerunner of the Savior. No, she asks why she should be deemed worthy of a visit from the mother of the Savior of the world. That’s genuine humility! And following that, she belts out blessings to Mary, not praising her for any Mother Theresa-type good works or anything along those lines, but simply for having a humble faith that believed what God had promised to do for her. Remember, Mary was the one who came to visit Elizabeth,yet Elizabeth made it all about Mary.

Mary did something similar. She came to celebrate the good news with Elizabeth, but her celebration was all about her Savior. Her song, known historically in the church as the Magnificat, is a beautiful example of genuine humility. When Mary references herself, it is only in the context of being on the receiving end of what God has done and is still doing for her. Otherwise, the whole song is filled with “He” – as an ode to all of the amazing things that God has done and continues to do for his people. So both Elizabeth or Mary didn’t make it about themselves; they made it about their Savior. They humbly – yet jubilantly! – praised their Savior.

A real Christmas is about giving. But not about using giving as an outlet to put our pride into practice. And, even in those cases where our giving is genuine (and not a pretense for our pride), it’s still misguided if the intent of our giving is to somehow manufacture a “real’ Christmas. Instead, the kind of giving that makes for a real Christmas is giving Jesus the attention that Elizabeth and Mary did. 

And he deserves it, because as Mary confessed, in his mercy, he doesn’t give us what we deserve. “His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation” (v.50). “He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever…” (v.54-55a). God’s mercy means our pride no longer damns us! Mercy means God hasn’t treated our selfish pride as it deserves. Mercy means we have just as much reason to celebrate the Savior as Elizabeth and Mary did!

But for those not interested in that mercy, who prefer to remain in their pride, God has something for them, too. “He has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones…” (v.51-52a). Pride is nothing more than a human attempt at raising oneself above God, and God is no stranger to dealing with it. He has shown throughout history how he handles it, and he won’t hesitate to humble those insisting they have something of which to be proud.

But that is not God’s greatest desire. Think about it differently. If God’s greatest interest was merely behavior modification (for example, to make us more humble), if that’s all that Christianity was about – doing the right things and living the right way, then God would have addressed pride (and all other sin!) much differently. He would have sent his Son – but perhaps with a team of elite angels to sniff out sin and immediately punish it wherever they found it. That would get people to shape up very quickly, wouldn’t it?!?

But his preference is to show mercy. And Christmas is proof. God didn’t send his Son to change your behavior; he sent his Son to be your Savior. When we set aside our pride long enough to see that Christmas isn’t about us, that’s when we’re free to see Christ clearly, and see that… he already made Christmas all about us! 

Do you get it? When I make Christmas all about me, I suffer the most, because I am blinded to the reality that God already made Christmas all about me. If not, he would not have sent his Son to save. But he did, which is how you can be certain that Christmas is all about you.

When we know that Christmas is actually all about us – in the right way! – then we can revisit that whole matter of giving. And we can do so by following in the footsteps of humble Elizabeth and Mary. Yes, give. Give glory and praise to God this Christmas! Make Christmas about Christ. Give to God by going to church. Give to God by getting in the Word. Give to God by giving a special Christmas offering. Give to God by taking time over the twelve days of Christmas to consider how to give him more of you in the next year. Give thought to how you can make Mary’s words your own and how you can put those words into practice in your life: “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…” (v. 46-47). 

He Lifts Up the Humbled

(Luke 1:39-55)

How many gifts will it be this year? Do you have a record of how many gifts it’s been in the past? You know the ones I’m talking about – the ones we made a big deal about, the ones we convinced ourselves and others we really wanted – no, needed… only to see them end up unused, forgotten, or re-gifted to someone else. I would imagine you could spend some time over the holidays just looking back on everything in your home, your garage, and/or a storage unit if you have one, and so much of it would be a record of things that at one point were “must-haves.” Going through that process would probably serve to give us pause the next time we convince ourselves that we have to have something. We may not want it as badly as we think we do.

Couldn’t we say that about humility as well? We’ve reflected on humility for the past three Sundays, and honestly, isn’t humility a bit like that gift you think you want, but when it comes right down to it, isn’t as interesting as we thought? We even know that humility is one of those desirable qualities God wants us to have, so we should want it, but really we don’t. Because humility means giving up something I’m really good at: me. Humility means actually doing what Jesus called us to by denying self. Humility means going against my natural self-interest and doing what I’m best at by nature, making my life about me. So humility sounds virtuous and noble and it should be not only on our Christmas list, but an ongoing pursuit of ours, but… the reality is that we aren’t too willing to part with our pride. Like a child throwing a tantrum after being stripped of a toy for misbehaving, we naturally kick and scream against anything that threatens our pride. And humility does just that. 

That’s what makes it so difficult. “No pain, no gain” – it’s unlikely you’ll open up a Christmas card to find those words inside. I don’t recall the phrase being included in any Advent or Christmas hymns. Spend as much time perusing the aisles of Hobby Lobby for something to add to your collection of Christmas decor, but you won’t see the words, “no pain, no gain” painted across a piece of wood in some nostalgic font. The words would seem to be out of place for this time of year.

But maybe they’re more applicable than we might think. As we conclude our Humble Expectations series this morning and you reflect on the past three weeks, has the concept of humbling yourself or being humbled resonated with you as a pleasant experience? If so, forgive me for saying so, but I think you’re a little bit weird. Being humbled – more specifically, the repentance required for that to take place – is a tough pill to swallow. Who likes to be put in their place? Who enjoys having their faults found out and exposed? Who likes being at the dead end where no blame, no excuses, and no rationalizations allow us any outs, where there is nowhere to turn for escape? No one! Provoking our pride is a painful process!

But it’s a necessary one, and this morning we focus on why. Today we look at the end result of that process of humbling and being humbled; today we look at the gain that results from the pain. 

How refreshing it is this morning to see what humility looks like in not one, but two of the women, Elizabeth and Mary, who played important roles in the birth of our Savior. While what has come to be called The Song of Mary, or The Magnificat, is the focal point of these verses, don’t miss the humble greeting that Elizabeth expressed upon Mary’s arrival. “When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” (v.41-43). Remember that Elizabeth was the once-barren, but now-expecting mother herself, and she could have very understandably been bitter toward Mary for arriving and stealing her thunder, or for rubbing it in that she was the one chosen to be the mother of the Savior. But we don’t see that from Elizabeth at all. Moreover, Elizabeth not only acknowledged Mary’s blessed privilege of being the mother of the Savior, but counted herself unworthy of a personal visit from her. This was not false humility. This was not Elizabeth trying to butter up Mary or get on her good side. This is what genuine humility looks like. And Mary takes a page out of the same book of humility.

Mary didn’t spring into a self-centered song spelling out all of the understandable reasons why she was in fact such a good candidate to be the mother of the Savior. Instead, notice who is at the center of her song: the Lord. Her song is not filled with “me’s,” but “He’s.” 

That’s an important element of humility. Humility doesn’t toot its own horn. Humility doesn’t call attention to itself. Humility doesn’t announce its presence in the room. Instead, humility is made known only when all attention is directed elsewhere. Mary does just that, highlighting God’s glorious resumé of rescuing his people throughout history. And how might we describe that resumé? She points out that God has a track record of doing two things: 1) humbling the haughty who think they can stand against him, and 2) lifting up the lowly, those who in genuine humility know and believe that they have zero business seeking an audience with a holy God. 

Mary described the various ways the Lord has for humbling the haughty. “He has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts… has brought down rulers from their thrones… has sent the rich away empty” (v.51-53). To those thinking they can hide their pride by keeping it limited to their thoughts – he shoos them out of his presence. To those in positions of power or authority who pat themselves on the back as if achieved by their own doing – he topples them from their lofty place. To those relying on riches or truly believing there is such a thing as a “self-made man,” he sends them away empty-handed. 

Here’s the problem with pride: we think our pride is justified. We think we actually have some good reasons not to be humble, that being humble is actually beneath us. Actually, we don’t even see it as pride. We wouldn’t call it that at all. It’s rather just who we are. We know that no sinful pride is justified, so what we feel, what we think about ourselves must not be pride, because we know that’s not acceptable for God’s people… so we don’t identify it as such. Nevertheless, we still struggle with humility, because we think too highly of ourselves to think humility should apply to us. Mary’s song glorifies God for humbling the haughty, for not allowing others to pridefully rob him of his glory.

Mary’s song also glorifies God for lifting up the lowly. “He has… lifted up the humble… has filled the hungry with good things” (v.52-53). The good news for those who know they have no business in God’s presence is that he will in fact lift them up in his presence! Those who know how spiritually starving they are on their own will be permitted to taste and see how good the Lord truly is! God has no time for the proud because his schedule is booked with raising up the repentant to the joyful heights of forgiveness and salvation! He is far too busy filling up the empty-hearted with grace and all of his richest gifts!  

So as we wrap up this series, into which of these categories do you wish to find yourself? The haughty will be humbled while the lowly will be lifted up. I think we all know what the answer should be, but will our attitude and actions reflect that, or will everything stay the same? Will we continue thinking of humility as a virtue, a noble thing to pursue, but defiantly refusing to trade in our pride for humility? Or, can we see the bigger picture and in humility make our lives less about us, confident that in due time, Jesus will lift us up to himself and exalt us in a way the world never can? Knowing that it isn’t natural to us to desire humility, consider bringing that desire before the Lord. Ask him to help us imitate the humble spirit demonstrated by Elizabeth and Mary, who found genuine joy, not based on all the pregnancy preparations they had to do, but on what God had done. Let your joy this Christmas be based not on your planning and preparations, but in humble gratitude for what God has done.

And ask him to wrap you in his humility. Ask him to help us see that apart from him we are nothing so that we truly embrace that in him, we have everything. Bow low then, as you prepare to gaze again at the manger and see with eyes of faith the one born into humility, that he might raise you up and fill you with good things for now, for Christmas, and for eternity.