The Friend Who Came Out of the Grave

John 11

There was a man named Lazarus, and Jesus loved him. He loved his sisters too, Mary and Martha. Their house was a warm, safe place where Jesus liked to come and rest.

But one day Lazarus got sick. So sick that his sisters sent for Jesus. "Hurry," they said. "The one you love is sick."

And Jesus did a strange thing. He waited.

I know. It feels like the wrong thing. The sisters waited too, watching the road, watching their brother. And while they watched, Lazarus died.

By the time Jesus came, it was four days too late. Lazarus was in the tomb. A stone was rolled across the door, the way you close a thing you cannot fix.

Martha ran out to meet him. "If you had been here," she said, "my brother would not have died." There were tears all over her face. Mary said the very same words. If only. If only you had come sooner.

Have you ever stood somewhere and thought, it's too late now? That nothing could be done, and no one could undo it? That is just how they felt, so sure and so sad.

Then Jesus asked to see the grave. And they took him there, out to the tomb and the stone.

And Jesus cried.

He stood at the grave of his friend, and the tears came down, because he loved Lazarus, and death is a terrible thing, and Jesus has never once pretended it isn't.

Remember that. When you stand someday in your own too-late place, Jesus is not far off and dry-eyed. He is the One who weeps right there beside you.

But Jesus knew something the sisters had forgotten. He had told Martha, "I am the resurrection. I am the life." Life itself had walked up the road to her, with feet and a name.

"Take away the stone," he said.

"But Lord," said Martha, "he has been dead four days."

They took the stone away.

And Jesus called out, loud, into the dark of that grave: "Lazarus! Come out!"

And the dead man came out.

Out of the tomb, into the daylight, still wrapped in his grave cloths, blinking, alive. "Unwrap him," Jesus said. "Let him go." And Mary and Martha held their brother, warm and breathing, in their arms.

The grave does not get the last word. Not when Jesus is standing there.

And this was only the beginning. One day Lazarus would grow old, and die again. But Jesus was holding up a small picture of an enormous promise. There is a day coming when he will stand over every grave that has ever been, and call out every name he loves, and the whole earth will hear him. Come out.

He has not forgotten one of them. He will not come home missing anyone.

That day is still on its way. And when it comes, no one will ever say "too late" again.