Lazarus Is Dead
’ Lazarns is dead, and I am glad.^’ — John xi. 14, 15.
JESUS said, “Lazarus is dead, and I am glad.” What strange paradox have we here! What change has come over this divinely tender human heart? Does our fellow-sufferer no longer retain a fellow-feeling with our pain? Does any pang rend a brother’s heart in which the Man of Sorrows takes no part? “His is love beyond a brother’s; oh, how he loves!” Yet it is he who utters these words, “Lazarus is dead, and I am glad.”
Let us turn aside to see this great sight. If we rightly search, we shall discover that this, like all other scriptures, testifies of Christ, and testifies specifically that in all his words and ways he is love. He came not to condemn the world, but to save: now, as well as at other times, he is about the Father’s business. “Behind a frowning providence he hides a smiling face.” Trust him even before you comprehend his dealings, and you will soon be able to comprehend the dealings of him whom you trust.
Bethany lay on the slope of Olivet, near Jerusalem, but out of sight. It was the home of Lazarus and his sisters. In their house the Lord and his disciples frequently sought retirement from the bustle of the neighbouring city. He was always welcome there; and thither, therefore, he often went. He is the same in character and tendency yesterday, to-day, and for ever: he haunts the house or the heart where a welcome always waits him. His word of promise still is, “If any man open, I will come in.”
The Lord, having retired before a furious persecution, was tarrying, till the storm should blow out, in a secret place beyond Jordan. While he was absent, Lazarus fell sick and died. There was grief in the bereaved family, and grief throughout the circle of sympathizing neighbours, and grief among the disciples of the Lord as they were hiding with their Master beyond Jordan; for to that desert place the sad intelligence soon penetrated. All grieved for the death of Lazarus except the dead man’s truest, deepest friend: “Lazarus is dead, and I am glad,” said the man Christ Jesus.
Yet he, too, grieved over the solemn event: witness his tears when he reached the grave. But his grief was mingled with gladness: in his heart there was room for both emotions. The grief belonged to the Brother born for our adversity: the gladness, to the omniscient God, who sees the end from the beginning, and overrules all events for the promotion of his kingdom. the tears by the grave at Bethany behold the Man; in the gladness beyond Jordan behold the Ruler in providence, God over all.
Some principles of tender interest and beneficent operation lie slumbering in this text. Let us draw near and gently awaken them, that we may mark their beauty as they rise, and apply them for profit to our own experience.
As a preacher, Paul announced his determination to know nothing among his audience but Jesus Christ, and him crucified. In his oflficial capacity he recognized only two themes, and all his preaching consisted of a balanced alternation between them. Nor were Paul’s discourses wearisome for lack of variety. If a teacher of natural science were to announce that he intended to limit himself in his prelections to the heavens and the earth, you would be under no apprehension that his material would run short before the session should close. Thus Chrisl’s glorious person and Christ’s atoning death together afford ample field for all the energies of the greatest ministry ever given to the Church. Who the Redeemer is, and what he has done for men, occupied Paul from the day of his conversion to the day of his departing. It is our part humbly to follow the great apostle’s steps.
Learners may find suitable patterns in the Scriptures as well as teachers. “Sir, we would see Jesus,” said some devout Greeks, who had come to Jerusalem to worship at the feast. Those beautiful, but dark and cold globes, were drawn from their distant orbits by an impalpable but
(512) 7 irresistible influence toward the Light of the world. Sir, we would fain see Jesus, is the true though inarticulate desire of the little ones — the poor in spirit still — when they meet with any one who has skill to expound the gospel. Follow those Greek strangers as they press in past apostles and evangelists, and creep near to Christ himself Or, if the example seem to suit you better, go to the spot where yonder bent and wan-faced woman presses through the crowd of Christ’s fair-weather admirers, and presses in to Christ himself, that she may touch the hem of his garment; go in her wake, through all attendants and all ordinances, — go in secret, with a throbbing heart, behind that humble, earnest woman, and touch him as she touched him. Some of the answer that Jesus gave her, as cold waters to a thirsty soul, — some of the answer destined for her will overflow and drop on your parched tongue, as you stand by her side: “Go in peace; thy faith hath saved thee.” To-day let us come to Jesus; let us take our stance near; let us look and listen.
I. The first and fundamental lesson that lies in the text is the sympathy of Christ with his people — somewhat analogous to the sympathy that circulates through the several organs of one living frame. Such is the vital union, that every wound inflicted on the members pierces with pain the Head. What a perennial well-spring of blessed consolation was opened for believers, for example, in the cry that Saul’s meditated stroke upon the defenceless disciples at Damascus drew from the lips of their risen Defender in the heavens: “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?”
The Son of God has been pleased to place himself in sympathetic relation with humanity. He has taken to himself the seed of Abraham. He has so joined himself to our nature, that its sorrows run through his being and rend his heart. Of set purpose, with full knowledge and with infinite willingness, he has committed himself to this condition. He has entered the circle and must experience every shock that springs in any portion of the vast circumference.
It was he who sent the message to Israel in Egypt: “I know their sorrows.” In the desert place beyond Jordan he knew, he felt the grief that was rending the household at Bethany. Out from the circle of sympathy he could not and would not go. Christ’s relation to humanity is a fixed thing. On its changeless perpetuity our hope depends. “I am the Lord, I change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.”
By a message from the sisters, Jesus and his disciples had learned that Lazarus was sick; but the Head, being in closer communion with the member, had secret and later intelligence. In their solitude, Jesus said to the disciples, “Our friend Lazarus sleepeth;” and that sleep was death. The dying throb of Lazarus beat also in the heart of Jesus. In all their afflictions he was afflicted.
His promise runs, “Lo, I am with you alway,” — all the days, — the dark days of pain as well as the bright days of joy. When the strain of temptation is raised to its lOO LAZARUS IS DEAD.
highest pitch, — Satan desiring to have you that he may sift you as wheat and blow you away like chaff, — he is at your right hand, so that you shall not be greatly moved. True disciples still are often more frightened than hurt by the storm that rages around them, like Peter when he thought he was about to sink in the sea. Faith’s grand old formula, “I will not fear, for thou art with me,” would still suffice to make smooth every rough place of a Christian’s faith, and straight every crooked one.
2. The Lord Jesus, possessing all power in heaven and on earth, hears the cry of his people and sends them help. He intimates, indeed, that, in a sense, he puts himself in their power, and cannot resist their plea. It is obviously implied in the narrative here that if he had been present in the sick-chamber at Bethany, — present beholding the tears and listening to the prayers of the sorrowing sisters, — he would have cured the disease and preserved the life of Lazarus. Martha was right when she said, “Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.” He cannot endure to hear the prayer of his people, and permanently to deny their request.
Hence he could not remain long in visible presence with his followers after his ministry and his miracles began. When he had made his power known, they naturally began to look for his help in every calamity; and they did not look in vain. But the continuation and extension of the method would be inconsistent with his purpose and his laws. It soon became expedient that he should go away. As on a limited sphere and for a limited time he retired out of sight beyond Jordan, and permitted Lazarus during his absence to die, that he might afterwards reveal himself more effectually as the resurrection and the life; so he has on a larger sphere, and for a more protracted period, gone away, as it were, on the other side of Jordan, out of our sight, permitting multitudes of his friends to sicken and die, preparatory to a glorious resurrection. We get a glimpse through this opening into the heart of Jesus. In order that he might, for great purposes of his own, refuse the specific request of the sisters for the life of Lazarus, it was necessary that he should remain at a distance until Lazarus was dead. This is as much as to say that if he had been at hand he would not have permitted Lazarus to die; he would not have refused to comply with the request of the eager suppliants. He was not afraid to let them know that in presence of their tears and cries he could not refuse them.
3. Alike the Lord’s actions and his emotions contemplate the profit of his people. If he remained distant while Lazarus was battling with death, it was for your sakes. If he rejoiced in the immediate issue of that unequal conflict, it was for your sakes. It is ill the part of Christians if their rule is not, whether they eat or drink, or whatsoever they do, to do all to the glory of God; for whether he ate or drank, or whatsoever he did, he did all for the redemption of lost men. It was expedient for us that Christ should come into the world; therefore he came. It was expedient for us, in the fulness of time, that he should go away from the world; therefore he went away. All things are for your sakes.
In this case, the particular profit which he desired and anticipated for his people was, that they might believe. The death of Lazarus afforded to him the opportunity of displaying his omnipotence, and thereby confirming the disciples’ faith. But although this is the only benefit specified, others followed in its train. The discipline, for example, that the bereaved family endured was most precious, as a means of purging away their dross and preparing them for a holy rest.
Jesus was glad that he was not present at Bethany, because that would have implied the healing of Lazarus; and consequently the opportunity would, on that occasion, have been lacking of exerting his own omnipotence as the resurrection and the life. He loved his own mighty work, as well as his own atoning sacrifice. He rejoiced to break and bless and multiply the bread to a hungry multitude in a desert place. He rejoiced in healing the ten lepers, and missed the nine when one only returned with praise. He loved to have little ones in his arms, and reproved the ignorant disciples who sought to interdict their approach. When the children cried “Hosanna!” the hymn was sweet to his taste; and when some officious formalist said, “Master, rebuke them,” he answered, “If these should hold their peace, the stones would cry out.” The raising of Lazarus was a work especially to the Redeemer’s taste. He loved it, and all that led to it. He delighted to be in foretaste, before the time, the resurrection and the life. As in feeding the hungry he enjoyed the act of being the bread of life to his own, so in raising the dead he rejoiced in being already life from the dead to those who had put their trust in him.
This was the deepest need, and consequently this was the greatest work which the Deliverer was called to perform, previous to his own resurrection. On other occasions he had healed the sick; resuscitated the dead daughter of Jairus, soon after she had expired; raised the son of the widow from the bier, as they were bearing the corpse to the grave. But Lazarus was already in the tomb; he had been dead four days; corruption had begun; dust was returning to dust According to the measure of man’s extremity is the greatness of God’s opportunity. The Redeemer visibly exulted over this occasion for the manifestation of his saving power: “I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe.” He anticipated in this his greatest work a surer foothold for his beloved people, in their struggle to hold fast by faith. He expected that this mighty work would, in point of fact, afford to feeble disciples a larger handle to grasp by, that they might not, in some future tempest of temptation, be shaken off, and fall away.
Joy and sorrow rose and fell in Messiah’s breast as he foresaw a benefit or feared a harm to the faith of his people. He careth for us. Oh, how he loves!
Application.^i. The lesson bears on the ordinary affairs of life. You make an effort in order to obtain a lawful object, and your effort is made in a lawful way. You greatly need success, you earnestly desire it, you strenuously toil for it; but your plans miscarry, and your poverty becomes deeper than it was before. The Lord reigns, and you are his. He has all power, and you are one of his redeemed people. Notwithstanding, your venture in trade is unsuccessful, and you are reduced to straits for daily bread. Your misfortunes do not prove that your Saviour lacks the will or the power to help you. If he had been in visible, bodily presence at your side, and if you had looked up in his face, and told him, with tears, that it was the bread of your children that was lost, he would have put forth his power in your behalf When the disciples have toiled all night and have taken nothing, his tender question is, “Children, have ye here any meat.’^” And when he learns that they are destitute, he directs them how to let down their net, and crowns their effort with a blessing. If, like those worn-out fishermen, you could with your bodily eyes descry the Lord on the shore in the early dawn, he would supply all your need. But he is not here. He has risen from the grave, and ascended into heaven. It is expedient for you that he is not in sight. If he had been here, such is his tenderness that he could not have refused material help; but he is glad for your sake that he was not here. From the height of his throne he sees beneath and around before and behind your case. On his throne he Is, without entangling complications, ordering all things for your highest good.
0 son! O daughter of the Lord Almighty! it would be a light thing for Him who strewed the blue vault of heaven with stars, like gold dust on the bottom of a transparent river, — it would have been a light thing for him to give the child whom he loves a fortune, if he had seen that a fortune would be best for his child. He is glad, for your sakes, that at this point of your progress he is out of your sight, because he knows that the world on your side at this point would not be profitable for you.
1 have often been puzzled by the course of events while I was among them; but I do not remember a case in which the view of the same events from a distant point did not say, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Suppose the son of the Queen were in this city, struggling in competition with other merchants — now incurring a loss, and then unable to take advantage of an opening for want of capital. Suppose the Sovereign were on the spot, and impelled by the imperious affections of nature to employ the national resources in favour of her child. In the supposed case, the Sovereign, if present, could hardly refrain from interference; but interference on her part would be highly inexpedient. Well might she be glad if she were out of the way. In some such way it pleases the reigning Redeemer to withdraw himself from his people, and to leave them struggling with misfortunes which his hand could in a io6 LAZARUS IS DEAD.
moment remove. You trust him with the redemption of the soul; trust him with the things needful for the body.
2. The lesson bears manifestly and directly on the bereavements which Christ’s friends are called to sustain. The apple of your eye is touched. The blossom whence you fondly expected ripe fruit to grow, is blighted before your eyes. Convictions begin to penetrate, from time to time — sudden and sharp, like lightning flashes — convictions that the king of terrors has marked your treasure as his prey. An indescribable, hard, dry agony settles on your heart, like a stone pressing down and impeding its pulsation. You cannot take the conception distinctly in, and yet you are not able to keep it out.
You hold the pale hand, but you cannot detain the parting life. While you fondly grasp the casket, the jewel is leaking out below, like water; and you will soon have nothing in your arms but clay. You repeat the prayer that you learned to lisp in childhood, “Our Father which art in heaven.” You plead in Christ’s name for a submissive spirit; but in the tumult you cannot discern whether you are submissive or not. Ah, if Jesus were standing weeping by the bed, as he wept by the grave of Lazarus, your eye meeting his and his meeting yours, both dim with tears — if he were in this fashion here, your child would not die. Your piteous look would command him; he would grant your desire. But for your sake he remains out of sight. He is glad for your sake that he is not there as the controller of nature and the preserver of life. In that capacity he has withdrawn himself, in order that he may more freely act as your wise and kind Redeemer. As from his throne he does for you all things well, he is glad that he is not at your hand for a miraculous cure. He is glad, for your sake, that in this sense he is beyond your reach.
I had a brother once. Each of us can best understand and express his own individual experience; but one voice here may awaken a thousand kindred echoes. Not more certainly does every blade of grass receive its own drop of dew, than every human life its own measure of sorrows. Like each other, too, are the various griefs that chequer life, as dew-drop is like to dew-drop; but every separate person knows his own separate grief Jesus, the compassionate Saviour of sinners — Jesus, our elder brother in the heavens — looked down on this pair of brothers in their youth, and planned deeply, lovingly for both. He smote the elder brother with an ailment that slowly but surely sapped the roots of life, and imparted to the younger constant robust health. With this diversity of allotments, they were thrown close together for a series of years in their father’s house. What fragments of boyish disagreements may have survived till that period, were at once by this discipline conclusively purged away. The weak and the strong reciprocally clasped each other, and coalesced into one, like a vine and an elm growing together on the same soil. Nothing now could sever the pair. Whom God had thus joined io8 LAZARUS IS DEAD.
by a special providential dealing, no wile of the devil could avail to put asunder.
In the furnace, and in the earliest and gentlest period of its heating, the sufferer was born to the Lord. He struggled in unseen depths a little while, and then emerged into light and liberty. His peace flowed like a river, and the righteousness he rested in became great like the waves of the sea. All that concerned him was gradually made perfect, and then he was removed to rest. This was, doubtless, best for him, and he knows it now. No question now, in regard to him, that the Lord did all things well. But what of the survivor.? The stroke was love to him too, in another way. When the blow fell, the two lay so close together, that, whether dealt by the hand of God or the hand of man, it must needs fall on both. It fell on both accordingly, and blessed both by its fall. It blessed him, in exempting him altogether from the longer and rougher portion of the wilderness journey; and me, in hedging my way more closely in, so as to make the inevitable pilgrimage more safe to the pilgrim.
I remember the parting scene, down to its minutest feature, as freshly as I remember the events of yesterday; as we see a big star though it lie deep in heaven, while a lamp is invisible a few miles away. These hands held his pale brow, when at length its beating ceased. If Jesus had been there, as he was at the mouth of the cave in Bethany, in his visible presence and power as Lord over all — if Jesus had been there, my brother had not died. He would have pitied me, and shielded my feeble head from the descending stroke. But Jesus is glad to-day that he was not there; and the saved sinner whom he then admitted into rest is doubtless glad too, for he was permitted to go early home.
The blow which separated us was delivered for our sakes, and perhaps both derived from it equal advantage. Thereby his pilgrimage was shortened, and mine was made more useful and more safe. It will be joyful if, on comparing notes at our next meeting, we discover that he got over with fewer scars, and that I, though wounded oft, get some companions with me, as a crown of joy and rejoicing.
From the moment that my brother’s eyes were shut, the world’s light seemed many shades dimmer than it had been before. I am not sure that the face of the earth ever afterwards for me recovered its original brightness. If its glitter had lasted, it might have possessed more power to entice me into its snares.
I met a mother lately whom I had known before, but of whom I had lost all trace during an interval of six years. In answer to my question about her children, she informed me that they were all taken away but the youngest. “And how have you been sustained under these sorrows “i” She replied, “Every bereavement has knit me closer to Christ, and every child I have in heaven is another cord to hold me up.”
This world is like a sea; it cannot rest. Life in the world is for Christians somewhat like a net as it floats no LAZARUS IS DEAD.
in the water. It is necessary that the net should lie, in its whole length and breadth, beneath the surface. The lower edge of the net must lie deep — must in ordinarycases, indeed, rest on the bottom. But that being once secured, the more straight that it stands on its edge the better. To secure both objects — to keep the lower edge always on the bottom, and the upper edge always at the surface of the water — two different and opposite contrivances are simultaneously applied. To keep the net down, heavy stones are attached at short intervals on one side; and to bear it up, corks or bladders are attached at similar intervals to the other. Thus it is kept standing upright in the water, one edge on the ground, and the other, if not above the surface, yet always straining and pointing towards the upper air.
Thus stand Christians in the tide of Time, as it sweeps with varied velocity past them and through them. On the one side they are kept close to the earth by a multitude of needful weights, — and they are on that account all the more useful; on the other side, if not taken out of life, yet kept always pointing and tending to its upper edge — the edge of earth that lies nearest heaven — held erect and drawn upwards by many small invisible lines, attached to some bright and buoyant things, which have escaped from their grasp and leaped through the water into the upper sky. Let go one of those buoyants even from the bottom, and it bounds sheer up to the surface. Lines are made fast to it as it rises — lines of many intertwining human loves — lines which many waters can-LAZA R US IS DBA D. t t i
not quench. That buoyant thing let go, yet linked to your heart, will contribute to keep one edge of your being at least pointing upward, while you must still remain for a time in the deep.
When a little one is taken up, suffer the little one to go at Christ’s command, and yet continue to keep hold for your own profit. Of faith, hope, and love plait a threefold cord that shall not easily be broken, and therewith hold fast by the departed. Even that tiny thing, now that it is taken up, will contribute to keep you from lying all along upon the dust — will contribute to keep you erect in these troubled waters — will keep one side of your being pointing up to God your Saviour and heaven your home.