This week’s sermon was part of a series on Growing Faith, entitled Providential Circumstances. I heard a fresh perspective on the story of Lazarus, and it hit home to some struggles in my own life.

Lazarus was already in dire straits when messengers relayed the news to Jesus. I can imagine that while Mary and Martha were waiting anxiously, they hovered over their brother’s bedside, consoling him and whispering repeatedly: “Hang in there; Jesus is on his way.” Perhaps they softly hummed or sang psalms of praise and healing while he lay there, each day slipping away more.

Not only did Jesus wait where he was for two days after receiving the plea to go see his dying friend, we also have to factor in the travel time. By the time he arrived at Mary & Martha’s home, Lazarus had been in the grave several days. His sisters had already seen him take his last breath, prepared his body for burial, dealt with an influx of visitors to their home and were in the throes of mourning when Jesus finally arrived.

One thing that strikes me about this story is how Jesus knew intuitively that Lazarus had died. Messengers had reported that Lazarus was gravely ill, but Jesus knew when he died. His delay was purposeful.

While Mary, Martha, friends and family lingered over Lazarus’ deathbed, how they must have wondered what was taking Jesus so long! I wonder, too, if Lazarus was cognizant as he died that his friend – the Great Physician – was not going to arrive in time to save him. Granted, Jesus could have healed Lazarus as he had the Centurion’s daughter: simply with a word from afar. Instead, he waited.

I see myself in so many characters of this story. I am Lazarus, rasping through tears to an empty room: “Jesus! I’m dyin’ here! I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. Please come!” I am the sisters, observing a loved one in pain as well as suffering myself, yet knowing that I am powerless to help: “Jesus! I know that you can heal them with merely a word or a touch … what is taking you so long? Please hurry!” I am the mourners, trying to empathize with the grieving family, yet clueless to God’s hand at work around me. I am the disciples, waiting behind with Jesus as he takes his sweet time to travel, thinking to myself but too embarrassed to inquire aloud: “Um, we probably ought to get going … I mean, it takes a few days to get there by foot. I wonder why he’s just sitting there – not doing anything?”

When God doesn’t respond immediately; when he doesn’t intervene in a sweeping, miraculous way – it doesn’t mean that he is ignoring me. If I have the right spiritual mindset to realize his hand at work, I will realize that the wait is purposeful. If I muster the courage to keep the faith in the midst of silence, I will realize that God can receive glory through the pain. After all, he can raise the dead! What more can we ask?