John 11:1-7,

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. 2 It was Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was ill. 3 So the sisters sent to him, saying, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” 4 But when Jesus heard it he said, “This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

5 Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. 6 So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. 7 Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.”

With John 10 behind us, we enter now into a new phase of Jesus’ ministry. Phase one opened with John the Baptist baptizing in the wilderness east of the Jordan. That was back in chapter one. Nine chapters later — following a variety of Jesus’ miracles and Jesus’ teachings, crowds coming and crowds going, Pharisees questioning and Pharisees condemning — we ended up back in the very same place it all began. John 10:40,

“Jesus went away again across the Jordan to the place where John had been baptizing at first.” 

So, phase one has come full circle. Jesus’ public ministry has all about concluded. And at this point, life actually looks pretty good for Jesus. John 10:41 says of Jesus, having returned to this region of the Jordan,

“And many came to him [so, he’s got the crowds]. And many said, “John did no sign, but everything that John said about this man was true [he’s got public testimony]. And many believed in him there [he’s got ministry success].”

Sounds pretty good, right? Jesus is at last away from the tension and death-threats he’d been experiencing in Jerusalem. He’s not having to walk mile-after-mile from town-to-town like he did in Galilee. He’s east of the Jordan. He’s got his disciples all round him. He’s got the crowds coming to him and believing him. Life, right now, looks pretty good for Jesus. 

Then, like a fly in the ointment, John 11 begins,

“Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha.”

Hmm, now what might that mean for Jesus? What might that news of one, relatively unimportant person’s illness, mean for Jesus — especially in light of crowd-sized, relatively comfortable success? 

In this morning’s text, we’re going to see Jesus’ response to this one, relatively unimportant person’s illness. It’s a response that’s going to give us a window into three truths about the heart and character of Jesus:

1. Jesus personally loves his people.

2. Jesus prizes his Father’s glory.

3. Jesus pursues our very best.

Let’s pray ….

1. Jesus Personally Loves His People

Jesus personally loves his people. Let’s begin at John 11:1.

“Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. [and then there’s little this parenthesis…] It was Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was ill.”

Now, this is foreshadowing. We’ve not read about this event just yet, but we will see it in chapter 12. For now, John’s just flagging it — saying, “Hey, keep your eye on this family; make note of the connection here: Lazarus, Mary, Martha — they’re siblings. Siblings who are going to have some significant interaction with Jesus in the next few days.”

So, imagine it with me, Mary and Martha are in their home. Their brother Lazarus gets sick. And sickness is a dangerous thing in the ancient world. Not many options for medicine or doctors. Then, the sickness worsens. Things are beginning to look bad. The sisters think: Let’s send for Jesus. Verse 3:

“So the sisters sent to him, saying, ‘Lord, he whom you love is ill.’” 

Again, remember where Jesus was at this time. This message concerning Lazarus gets delivered to Jesus at a time when he’s living in relative security. In it comes — the message that Lazarus of Bethany is ill. 

And, you just gotta think, I mean — “Lazarus, I’m sorry, but the timing’s just not great right now. Your location, a bit too close for comfort to Jerusalem. And you’re just one person compared to the many who are coming my way.”

And, look, let’s get real, I mean: how many people had Jesus’ interacted with throughout his three years of public ministry? We know he fed the 4,000. We know he fed the 5,000. We know, at times, he had crowds so large he had to get into a boat so as to not be trampled by them. Even now, he’s got waves of people coming toward him. You think he even remembers Lazarus? You think he really has capacity — with all the other things he’s doing and all the other people he’s caring for — to show concern for this one single, relatively unimportant individual?

Well, the sisters sure seem to think so. Just look how they describe their brother to Jesus. The message is not, “Lord, he whom you appreciate; he whom you might remember; nor is it even he who loves you. The message from the sisters is, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.”

Now, why is it that these sisters believe Jesus loves their brother? Well, I imagine Jesus told them he did. And Jesus showed them he did. That his previous posture toward Lazarus had not been one of cold, detached indifference. Like, when Jesus had been around Lazarus, he had not been checking his watch, or rolling his eyes, or day-dreaming about all the other places he’d rather be. No, no, no, Jesus loved Lazarus and it showed. The sisters knew, Jesus loves our brother. 

And this, is stunning. Earlier in John — 3:16 — we read that God loves the world. It’s an amazing truth, yes? It’s also a broad truth — gloriously broad, but broad nonetheless. After all, you’ve gotta zoom out quite a bit to see the whole world, right? And when you zoom out, what happens to you? What happens to the individual? They fade into the crowd. That is, when humans who are merely humans look at the world. 

But see, here is where God is different. Here is where Jesus, the Son of God, is different. Jesus has capacity, boundless capacity, to love the world and love individuals within the world. It is not an either/or for Jesus. “Either, I’m a big, distant God. Or, I’m a small, personally involved God.” No, no, no — God loves the world, and God loves his people — collectively, and individually. Calls them by name, counts the number of hairs upon their heads, knows the exact number of days he’s given them. 

Jesus did not love Lazarus generally. Jesus knew Lazarus: Knew what he looked like, knew what he sounded like, knew — even as we’ll see in a moment — the details concerning Lazarus’ sickness and where it was headed. Jesus knew Lazarus — and his sisters by the way (see that in verse 5) — he knew them personally, and loved them personally. 

How would you, this morning, describe Jesus’ love for you? Do you believe Jesus knows what you look like? What you sound like? What difficulties and sorrows have befallen you? Do you believe that if you, like Lazarus, were to get sick. Get hurt. Need help, and send for Jesus — Do you think Jesus would need a reminder of who you were? Need to jog his memory: “now how exactly is it again that I know this person?” Do you think he’d not be the first to pause the messenger: “wait, wait, wait — I don’t need you to describe who she is. I don’t need you to tell me who he is. I love that man. I love that woman. And I have since before the foundation of the world.” Look, Jesus’ just got done telling us:

John 10:14,

“I am the good shepherd. I know my own.”

John 10:27,

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them.” 

Jesus, my brothers and sisters, personally loves his people. That’s the first truth about Jesus: Jesus personally loves his people. 

2. Jesus Prizes His Father’s Glory

Verse 4:

“But when Jesus heard it [that is, heard that Lazarus was sick] he said, ‘This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.’”

Now, we’ve got to ask: what, exactly, is Jesus getting at here. He says, “This illness does not lead to death.” But, I mean, doesn’t it? Lazarus does, in fact, end up dying, right? I mean, he’ll be four days in the tomb by the time Jesus finally arrives in Bethany. Four days without a heart beating. Four days without lungs breathing. Four days without any activity in the brain. He dies. 

And so, when Jesus says, “This illness does not lead to death.” What’s he mean? I think there’s layers of meaning here, but at the top, is purpose. That is, the purpose of the illness is not death. Yes, his illness will lead to his death, but its purpose is “for the glory of God.”

And now, we’ve seen something like this before in John already. Just two chapters earlier, John 9, the disciples ask Jesus concerning the blind man, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered in terms of purpose: “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

There’s purpose to the suffering. Purpose to the plight. That blind man was not blind for nothing. Lazarus is not sick for nothing. The purpose of God is to display the glory of God through the blindness and the illness. So, that’s shared ground between John 9 and John 11. 

Now, what’s relatively new here, not only in John 11 but the book of John as a whole, is the complementary dynamic between the Father’s glory and the Son’s. And, you gotta see this with me. This is an amazing claim being made here by Jesus in verse 4. So, look there with me. Verse 4: Jesus does not just say: “It is for the glory of God.” But, “It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” 

The Son is clearly after the Father’s glory, yes? And, the way that glory is revealed to the world is through him, through the Son. They are respective, in other words, function in tandem. Jesus magnifies the Father through his obedience to him. The Father magnifies Jesus through his honoring of him. Jesus goes to the cross, it glorifies the Father. The Father raises him from the grave to restore honor to the Son. The Father and the Son’s relationship is one of mutual glorification.

Now, remember, all of this is under the banner of “Jesus prizes his Father’s glory.” Point one: Jesus personally loves his people. Point two: Jesus prizes his Father’s Glory. And the fact that the second point follows the first is so important, so helpful, especially in our particular cultural moment. 

For we live in an age where it is common not just for the world, but for churches, ministries, writers of worship lyrics, to tout a view of Jesus that suggests we are supreme in his mind. We rank highest in his sight. We (and I want to say this as graciously as I can) are almost like God to him. The message is that he needs us, he’s incomplete without us, he is unhappy unless we’re with him — it’s like we’re god to Jesus.

Now, look, church, Jesus loves us. Point one — he loves you personally. But he does not worship you or me. Jesus loves us, but he does not need us. Jesus loves us, and he’s for us, but he’s not only for us, as if we are the only thing in all of life that matters to Jesus. 

Listen, Jesus prizes his Father’s glory, and does so supremely. His highest allegiance is not to us, but to his Father. And that is really, really good news, because if that were not true of Jesus, then he’d be a sinner in need of a Savior just like you and me. Jesus prizes his Father’s glory, and, he loves us personally.

So, Jesus personally loves his people. And Jesus prizes his Father’s glory. Finally: Jesus pursues our very best.

3. Jesus Pursues Our Very Best

Verse 5:

“Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.”

Read that again. When he heard that Lazarus was ill — he’d become aware of the need, aware of Lazarus’ suffering, aware of the sisters’ anxiety concerning their brother, and then, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

It’s a contradiction, isn’t it? Seems it should either read, “Since Jesus hadn’t yet heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer.” Or, “When he heard that Lazarus was ill, he decided not to stay two days longer, but to race on over to Bethany instead.” But, as it is, the text reads: So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.”  What do we make of this? What’s Jesus after? Well, that’s precisely the point. What Jesus is after is our very best. 

See it with me. Watch how this thing unfolds. Verse 7:

Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again. The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now seeking to stone you, and are you going there again?

Simple question, right? Jesus, you mean to go right back to where there’s a mob seeking to kill you? It’s a simple question. But watch Jesus’ answer. Verse 9:

“Are there not twelve hours in the day? If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world.” 

Who’s the subject of that answer? Jesus had been the subject of the disciples’ question, right? “Rabbi, the Jews were just now seeking to stone you, and are you going there again?” Who’s the subject of Jesus’ answer? Who is it that’s walking in the day, seeing the light of the world (not being, but seeing the light of the world), and thereby not stumbling? 

It’s not Jesus. Jesus is the light of the world. Who is it that’s seeing the light of the world? It’s the disciples. Jesus’ answer is about them. Jesus is after what’s best for them. And he knows they’re frightened by the mob in Judea. Frightened by the danger awaiting them there. And so, he’s telling them, “So long as you follow me there, keep me, the light of the world, in front of you, you’re not going to stumble.” 

He’s saying, “stay with me. You’ve got nothing to fear so long as you stay with me.” And now here’s the warning. Verse 10:

“But if anyone walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.”

This is the alternative for the disciples. Rather than love the light, and follow Jesus into Judea, they could love the world instead. They could remain in the comfort and safety offered them east of the Jordan. But since Jesus would then be gone, so too would the light. And there, cloaked in darkness, that’s when their stumbling would occur. 

Those are the two options on the table: Light with Jesus as they head into danger. Or comfort without Jesus as they stumble in the dark. And Thomas is the first to get it. Verse 16, skip down there with me for a moment. Verse 16:

“So Thomas, called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him.’”

Thomas gets it. He gets it. “Brothers, it is better, better to go with Jesus to our deaths than live here in the dark. Let us go with him, lest we stumble.”

Jesus is after our best, brothers and sisters. Not our convenience, not our safety, but our best. And he’s willing to delay the miracle, willing to allow Lazarus to die, willing to have sorrow fill the hearts of Mary and Martha. He’s willing to bring his disciples away from comfort east of the Jordan. He’s willing to lead them right on into the danger of Judea.

He’s willing to do all this because he does not simply want what’s good for Mary, Martha, and his disciples. But he wants what’s very best. And what’s very best is awaiting them in Judea — waiting for them at the tomb of Lazarus. Verse 14:

“Then Jesus told them plainly, Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe.” 

Jesus could have gone to Lazarus sooner. Had he, he would have kept Lazarus from dying. Would’ve healed him. Would’ve restored him back to full health. And, oh, how glad that would have made the disciples. How relieved that would have made Lazarus’ sisters. But it would have been a gladness and relief with a cost. Their reception of that good gift from Jesus would’ve meant their missing out on the greatest gift. And Jesus would not have that. 

Jesus aims to give us what’s not merely good, but best — the gift of faith in him.

“…for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe.” 

What if suffering was a necessary ingredient for you to maintain your faith in Jesus? Discomfort? Loss and pain? What if, in order to keep you, Jesus needed to delay his help, let the bad news come, allow the tears to fall, and the sorrow to descend, and even stay for days?

Could you trust in such a moment:

• “Jesus is after my best?”

• “Jesus is giving me what I most need?”

• “Jesus is taking care of me?”

How do we hold onto our trust in Jesus when he’s yet to stop the sorrow?

We follow him.

We follow him from the Jordan, to Bethany, to Judea, to Jerusalem, and up the hill of Golgotha to see him there hanging suffering there for you and for me. Can we trust the man upon the cross? Can we trust the man with scars in his hands? Can we trust the shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. Jesus died to give us his very best. 

The Table

Now, what leads us to the table this morning, is that death which Jesus willingly went toward, that he might purchase for you and for me a seat at his table. Forgiven by him, washed pure by his blood, restored to fellowship — this table is a foretaste of our future — sitting down at the table of fellowship with Jesus forever.