The John Project

There’s a big difference between gatekeepers and ushers. The former are concerned with limiting access, and the latter are engaged in facilitating it.

Now, it’s not usually possible for someone to make direct contact with a notable or important person without going through a gatekeeper – someone who manages the flow of engagement with a VIP. And John 12:20-23 records an incident where two of the disciples found themselves thrust into that role.

A group of Greek-speaking pilgrims that had come to Jerusalem for Passover wanted to meet Jesus. We can’t be certain of their motive, but while mingling among the crowds in the city, they undoubtedly heard about Jesus and his miracles. So, it wouldn’t be surprising if they were drawn to him like those seeking to meet a celebrity.

First, they appealed to Philip. Then he conferred with Andrew, and the two of them brought the request to Jesus. But he neither denied nor granted the group an audience. In fact, he seemed to ignore the request altogether. It’s as though he simply refused to play the fame game.

Instead, he declared that the time had come for him to be glorified. And in direct contrast to the concept of glory that may have motivated the pilgrims to seek him, he wasn’t talking about the realm of fame and fortune, of audience-seekers and gatekeepers. He was talking about his crucifixion.

In verse 24 he described the pathway to honor in the kingdom of God, revealing how very different it is from the one the world pursues. He used the analogy of a grain of wheat being planted in the soil. He said the process of its decay that results in the emergence a new fruit-bearing plant is an illustration of the kind of glory he sought and what it requires. His meaning was clear. For him, glorification is the result of giving life to others, and that requires self-sacrifice not self-promotion.

In that context, he went on to say in verse 25 that if we fall in love with the kind of self-centered life this world offers, we’ll find it slipping through our fingers. But if we reject that folly and pursue the self-sacrificing life he modeled instead, we’ll gain it.

Then in verse 26, he said if we follow the path of his example, we’ll experience the power of his presence along with the only kind of glorification that matters: the honor of the Heavenly Father.

He wasn’t calling for martyrdom, but he was pointing to the cross.

Matthew 16:24 quotes Jesus saying, “If anyone desires to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.” There’s only one cross where the price for our sin could be paid and only Jesus could carry that one. But according to him, his followers will have their own to shoulder. And it’s certain ours will resemble his in this respect: We’re going to die on it.

That may sound a little harsh. But it’s not about loss, it’s about transformation. The grain of wheat undergoes a type of death that transforms that single seed standing alone into a growing plant that reproduces. And if Jesus is going to be able to engage us in his mission of life-giving, spiritual fruitfulness in this world, we’ll need to go through a similar process.

It’s not about physical death. It’s about something much more challenging: dying to self. According to Romans 12:1-2, that’s not about sacrificing our lives, it’s about become living sacrifices. It’s about relinquishing our self-focused agenda, allowing Jesus to reshape our thinking, and experiencing the personal transformation that aligns our hearts with his will.

I don’t mean to criticize Phil and Andy, and I don’t think the Lord’s teaching here should be considered a rebuke to them. But since his will is always focused on extending his life and love to people, following his selfless example will mean laying down our self-centeredness to serve as ushers rather than gatekeepers.

John 12:12-19 describes Jesus entering Jerusalem for the final events of his earthly ministry leading to the cross and resurrection. He was met by an excited crowd made up of Passover pilgrims who’d either personally witnessed him raising Lazarus from the dead or had heard about it. And the resulting scene caused the Pharisees to express with exasperation, “The world has gone after him!”

This passage contains quotes from two Old Testament messianic prophecies. The first one is chanted by the enthusiastic throng, and the second is recorded as having been recalled later by the disciples as they considered what happened that day.

According to the custom for someone worthy of high honor, the people began laying palm branches along Jesus’ route into the city. And then, they quoted from Psalm 118:25-26 crying out, "Hosanna! 'Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!' The King of Israel!" But they misinterpreted this prophecy and allowed themselves to get caught up in a frenzy of ecstatic hope that Jesus was about to fulfill it by overthrowing their Roman overlords and establishing the kingdom of God among them.

But Jesus neither incited nor fed their foment. In fact, he very strategically chose to enter Jerusalem with an act of humility. The symbolism was stark and clear. A king engaging in conquest would ride a strong warhorse. One arriving in peace would sit astride a docile donkey. And that’s what he did.

We’re told the disciples didn’t grasp the significance of this contrast between the triumphal shouts of the crowd and the humble optics of Jesus’ choice of ride until after his resurrection. Then, they recalled the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9, “Behold, your King is coming to you...lowly and riding on a donkey.” And the Hebrew word translated as, “lowly,” means poor, humble, gentle, or meek.

Jesus couldn’t have sent a clearer message. Even as the crowd clamored for political regime change through messianic power, he was declaring his mission to bring about a spiritual one through messianic surrender. He hadn’t come to set himself up in triumph but to lay himself down in sacrifice. And specifically, because he humbled himself, Philippians 2:5-11 tells us that every knee will bow before him.

And yet, many of us who claim to follow him, don’t seem to grasp the impact of his example. Based on what I hear from some prominent Christian leaders, catch in conversations with other believers, read on social media, and see on the nightly news, it appears that many of us today – like the chanters in the streets on that first Palm Sunday – think the kingdom of God is established through triumphalism which the dictionary describes as, “The attitude or practices of a church that seeks a position of power and dominance in the world.” But Christian history is littered with the debris of the wreckage caused by this folly.

Jesus said in John 18:36 that his kingdom is not of this world, so his servants don’t need to fight to make it so. Our job is not to establish it through our activism – political or otherwise – but according to Luke 10:9 announce its presence through our acts of service in his name and escort others into it.

Yes, I’m aware that Ephesians 6 commands Jesus-followers to put on the armor of God. But I also know that verse 12 of that chapter declares, “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.” And Colossians 2:15 says that battle has already been won, not with weapons of warfare but with a splintered cross where a donkey-riding Jesus, “made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it.”

John 12 verse 9 says that many Jews from Jerusalem discovered Jesus was in Bethany and had come to see him as well as Lazarus, the man he’d brought back to life. And although it doesn’t appear that the Lord was trying to keep his movements secret, this statement is significant because in the last verse of chapter 11 we’re told the religious leaders had issued a command that anyone with information concerning his whereabouts was required to report it. So, it’s hard to imagine no one did, but regardless, no arrest was made.

However, verses 10 and 11 report that to stem the tide of belief sweeping through the crowds in the aftermath of Lazarus’ resurrection, the Jewish elite determined to silence him. And what was the crime that earned him the death penalty? Breathing. He threatened them by simply living the life he’d been given by Jesus. And that’s true for us too.

As Jesus-followers, we threaten the kingdom of darkness with every breath we take. We may not have been raised from the dead physically, but we most certainly have been spiritually. Colossians 2 verse 13 says, “And you, being dead in your trespasses...He has made alive together with Him.” And just by going about our daily lives, we testify to Christ’s love, forgiveness, and redeeming power.

In Galatians 2 verse 20 the Apostle Paul says, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” And this is true not only of the super spiritual with the title, Apostle, before their name. Simply by carrying out the routines of godly living, every believer is pointing others toward the Savior and calling them to faith in him.

Even when we don’t feel very Christ-like, we’re his representatives. Without quoting Scripture, preaching a sermon, or behaving like a saint, we are a reflection of his glory into this dark world. It’s not about what we do. It’s about what we are – alive through his grace.

With every lungful of air and beat of our hearts, we withstand those spiritual forces arrayed against the gospel. Just by showing up, just by living the life we’ve been given, we illuminate their darkness with our Redeemer’s light.

So, if the enemy is attempting to silence your testimony today, don’t be surprised that you’ve become a target. But don’t be afraid either, just breathe.

The other day, while I was preparing this commentary on the first section of John 12, the Holy Spirit convicted me of something. I'd recently composed a social media post, and he exposed the fact that my motive was to generate likes, shares, and approving comments – even envy – solely to garner personal affirmation. And as I sat there with my prideful motive naked before God’s scrutiny, he began to use this passage to speak to me in a fresh way. Actually, he seemed to be asking me this question: “What do you want to be known for?”

The cliffhanger that concluded John chapter 11 with uncertainty about whether Jesus would return to Jerusalem for Passover and risk capture by the religious authorities, is resolved with the opening of chapter 12. Verse 1 describes Jesus’ arrival in the Jerusalem suburb of Bethany six days prior to the sacred feast. He was clearly en route to the holy city, but he stopped to visit his friends Mary, Martha, and their brother, Lazarus, whom he’d recently raised from the dead.

During a meal they shared together, verses 2 and 3 tell us Lazarus sat at the table with Jesus, Martha served, and Mary did something completely unexpected. She opened a small container filled with a precious aromatic oil that was worth a year’s wages and poured it out onto the Lord’s feet. Then, she used her hair to wipe them and the entire house was filled with the lovely fragrance.

In verse 5, Judas criticized her action as the waste of a resource that could have been sold to provide help for the poor. But verse 6 clarifies his comment was motivated out of selfishness because he had control of the disciples’ money box and embezzled from it.

Then, in verses 7 and 8, Jesus responded to Judas’ criticism by affirming the value of what May had done. He commended her sacrifice saying she was anticipating and honoring his coming death and burial.

Over time, she became renown for her act of costly worship. In fact, this event had become so widely shared among believers by the end of the first century when John penned his Gospel that he could refer to it when introducing her in chapter 11 verse 2 even before describing its occurrence in chapter 12 verse 3.

And here I am discussing it with you 2,000 years later.

Her example surfaces the question I think we all need to ask ourselves.

All of us want to be valued and known in the righteous sense of those words. We desire to make a positive mark on this world. We want our lives to matter. And I believe those aspirations are godly. According to John 14:12 and 13, Jesus wants to empower us by his Spirit to do even greater works than his so we can impact the world in his name.

But the fulfillment of that depends at least on our willingness to honestly ask ourselves what we want to be known for. Will we allow our noble desires to be hijacked by an ambition to merely attain personal acclaim, or will we subjugate selfish motives so that we can give honor to our Savior and make him famous?

Both Judas and Mary are remembered for what they did there that day. One was motivated by selfishness and the other by her love for Jesus. Which do you want to be known for?

Lord, may we be like Mary, regarded for our sacrificial acts of worship that release the fragrance of heaven into this world?

The 11th chapter of John’s Gospel ends with a cliffhanger. In verses 53-57, we learn that the religious leaders had developed a plan for putting Jesus to death and that they'd issued a command for anyone with knowledge of his whereabouts to report it so they could arrest him. In response, Jesus, along with his disciples, left the city for the seclusion of a wilderness area. Then, we’re told that some Jewish pilgrims who’d gone up to Jerusalem early to prepare themselves for Passover were wondering if Jesus would brave the risk of capture and return to the city to celebrate the feast as required by Scripture.

But the outcome of the events in this episode of Jesus’ ministry is left dangling in uncertainty, creating suspense that engages our interest in what comes next. We want to know how this will turn out, but we have to wait for the next chapter.

And that sounds familiar doesn’t it? Our lives' stories periodically reach cliffhanger moments when we desperately wish we knew what was going to happen next but are forced to wait to find out.

Most of us would prefer it had a single, predictable storyline, but life unfolds in a series of episodes like the acts of a play or the installments in a video series. And the toughest part of the Christian experience is navigating the uncertainty of the intersection where one episode concludes and the next begins. Even if the current one has been especially challenging, it can be quite difficult to let go of what we know for what is yet to be revealed.

It can feel a little like being in the lobby during the intermission of an engaging drama. You applauded as the curtain came down, dried your eyes from the emotion the tale has stirred so far, and as you wait in line at the snack bar, the lights flicker signaling that the curtain is about to rise on new developments in the story. But now, you’re uncertain if you want to go back for more.

You'd developed a rapport with the characters you’ve already been introduced to and become comfortable with the ending you were projecting in your imagination. But what if the author takes things in an unanticipated direction? What if something tragic happens to a character you’re emotionally invested in? What if the finale doesn’t live up to your expectations? Maybe you should just pack up and head for the door with whatever satisfaction you’ve received from what you’ve already experienced along with your anticipated version of the ending. Wouldn’t that be better than racing back to your row, tripping over people’s feet in the dark as you try to locate your seat, and risk trusting the storyteller?

But that’s what life’s all about – trusting the Storyteller. Leaning deeply into his plot twists, welcoming the unexpected with faith, and enjoying the journey in joyful hope toward the revealing of a glorious mystery is the life we were made for.

Doubt and fear want to rob us of the pleasure of this wildly thrilling and deeply satisfying experience. So, don’t give place to them. In Christ, we never need to be afraid of life’s cliffhangers. He’s not making it up as he goes. He's working from a carefully crafted script.

Psalm 139:16 says, “Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me when as yet there were none of them.”

If you feel like you’re waiting in the foyer with trepidation about what may come next, please let me encourage you to make the choice to grab your popcorn, step through the door, and settle in for the magnificent adventure that's been written for you.

In the fall of 2004, Sue and I made our first trip to Asia. We traveled to Taiwan to teach in a ministry training school made up of young people from literally ever corner of the world. And we quickly found ourselves being stirred into a wonderful soup of nationalities, cultures, and ethnicities and adding our voices to a glorious symphony of worship made up of many languages rising before God’s throne. It was a foretaste of heaven. We were captivated by a rich sense of the unity in our diversity made possible by our Redeemer. The experience impacted us deeply and altered the course of our ministry. And I can’t help but reflect on those memories when considering John 11:51-52.

These verses form a pause in the apostle’s narrative where he provided a brief commentary on what he’d just described in the previous two verses. In making the case for the reasonableness of killing Jesus, the high priest had said it would be better that one man should die for the people. So, John stopped to underscore the prophetic significance of that statement. He wanted his readers to understand that even though these words were spoken by an enemy of Christ, the sovereign God was using Caiaphas to declare his redemptive purpose for the coming crucifixion. It would not be merely a dark result of the conspiracy of a religious cabal but the glorious fulfillment of the strategy of his loving grace.

And in addition, John said the redemption secured by the substitutionary sufferings of Jesus would unify all the children of God. And we know from what he later wrote in 1 John 2:2 that his use of that phrase was not only inclusive of Israeli Jews and the Diaspora but of the whole world as well. He was looking ahead to the cross that would become the supreme point of unity for anyone anywhere who would become a child of God through faith in the saving grace of Jesus.

Whatever our background, nationality, skin color, age, gender, politics, language, or occupation, Jesus people are all rooted in the blood-stained soil of Calvary where our redemption was purchased. We share a holy communion through the one who there paid the price for the sin that separated us from himself and from each other. The Lord has made possible and welcomed us into a friction-free and seamless relationship with him that he meant to also characterize the new kind of community he’s empowered us to enjoy with one another.

In fact, this is such a divine priority that among the few prayers of Jesus recorded for us in the New Testament, John 17:21 reveals him petitioning the Father on our behalf saying, “…that they all may be one, as you, father, are in me, and I in you; that they also may be one in us, that the world may believe that you sent me.”

As the world around us tears itself apart in deep schisms of hostile animosity, the church’s Spirit-formed oneness is meant to stand in sharp contrast. Our genuine fellowship is intended to be a beacon illuminating the power of the Gospel, a lighthouse of love pointing the conflict-weary to the shelter of the Prince of Peace. And that example has never been more needed than now.

This moment in history cries out for the testimony of a unified church. Not a theological, ecclesiastical, political, cultural, or racial conformity, but a spiritual solidarity, a holy harmony that flows from the only thing that truly matters – our love for Jesus.

May each of us who call him Savior invite the scrutiny of his Spirit to reveal any ways our attitudes or actions have contributed to divisiveness within the Body of Christ. Then, if needed, let’s be quick to repent so that what was said of the early believers by those who observed their sincere affection may be true of us as well: “See how they love one another!”

Unable to refute the veracity and impact of his miracles, John 11:47-48 observes the Jewish elite at their wits end concerning Jesus. They were wringing their hands over how to respond to the threat he posed to their religious authority. They feared that if left unchecked there would be an avalanche of faith in his messiahship forcing Rome to upend the fragile arrangement that allowed them to operate with pseudo-autonomy.

Then, verses 49 and 50 describe how the high priest muscled his way into the panic and ended the discussion making the case that the only logical solution and best thing for the nation was to kill Jesus. Yes, you heard that right. The senior faith leader authorized the murder of Jesus as the best response to the situation.

It seems there’s no limit to the evil we humans have the capacity to authorize ourselves to commit. Even a brief reading of history provides all the confirmation of that we need. And I’m not pointing fingers. I’m including myself in that indictment.

No, I’ve never contemplated causing someone’s death. But I have given myself permission to jeopardize the lives of others by setting my own speed limit on the freeway so I could get where I wanted when I wanted. And I once successfully talked myself into the reasonableness of underreporting my income on my tax return. And that had the downstream effect of making less money available for those dependent on government support to feed their families. I’ve also been guilty of justifying my disregard for the worth of others on the basis of their appearance. And I could on, but it’s depressing.

It’s just so easy to convince myself to do what I think is best for me regardless of the cost to others. Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.” There’s a little Pharisee inside of me that’s quite proficient at excusing my wickedness. And that’s exactly why I need Jesus.

He’s the one who makes possible the fulfillment of Ezekiel 36:26-27 where God promises his people, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you...I will put my Spirit within you and cause you to walk in my statutes.”

That heart transplant happens once and for all at the moment we place our faith in Christ as Savior. But redirecting our stride and learning to walk in his statutes is a process that requires both time and cooperation with the work of the Holy Spirit. That’s what Colossians 2:6 is addressing when it says, “As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him...”

And that’s what I want, to more consistently follow in my Savior’s footsteps by welcoming the Spirit of God to help me muzzle my Pharisee and conduct myself in a manner that better reflects the Lord I love.

According to John 11:45, many in the crowd that witnessed the resurrection of Lazarus became believers as we might expect. But verse 46 tell us some of them instead went to the Pharisees and reported what Jesus had done. They weren’t disputing what happened or expressing skepticism. They were simply alerting the religious leaders that Jesus had raised a man from death. And since the Pharisees’ opposition to Jesus was well established, it’s clear they’d made a choice, in spite of the reality of what they’d seen, to align themselves with the unbelief of the religious elite.

And that unbelief was not a denial of the facts. It was a conscious resistance to the faith response those facts elicited.

It's really hard for me to comprehend, but the Gospels consistently report this dichotomy resulting from the miracles of Jesus. There were those who were moved to faith by the amazing things they’d seen and those who’d seen the same things but made the choice not to believe.

For reasons specific to his purpose, out of all the miracles Jesus performed, John selected only seven of them for inclusion in his Gospel. Still, it’s an impressive list. He recorded Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding in Cana, healing a royal official’s son in Capernaum, healing an invalid at the Pool of Bethesda, feeding 5,000 men plus women and children near the Sea of Galilee with five loaves and two fish, walking on the waters of the Sea of Galilee, healing a blind man in Jerusalem, and raising Lazarus from the dead in Bethany.

How’s it possible for someone exposed to this array of empirical evidence to willingly resist its powerful call to faith? I honestly don’t know. But I do know that no matter how overwhelming the evidence, faith is always a choice. And that means God has gifted everyone with the right to reject him. The maker and master of all things will never mandate or coerce belief, and he also grants complete freedom to refuse it. But that’s what true love does.

I once wrote these lyrics to try and capture the sense of this:

And although

He knew that it was best

That we should live our lives in his rest

Perfect love must stand the test

And so, he left to us the choosing

Laid his love out on the line

For us to receive

Or turn to follow our own design

It’s sad to imagine anyone doing that. But the truth is, we all have. The first part of Isaiah 53:6 says, “All we like sheep have gone astray. We have turned, every one, to his own way.” But then, referring to what Christ has done in response, the last part of the verse says, “And the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

In other words, despite knowing many would reject him, Jesus still went to the cross. His love compelled him to take our sin upon himself and pay its penalty with his own life so that there would be a way for the rest of us to be forgiven and made right with God through our faith in his sacrifice.

As hard as it is for me to contemplate the possibility of someone turning away from this amazing gift, I’m deeply moved by the divine compassion that offers it. And I never want to take it for granted. Even though my faith in Christ is the result of a choice I’ve made, the availability of that choice is the result of a love beyond comprehension and a gift beyond measure.

Lord of glory, may the crowning achievement of every day I live be a fresh expression of my faith. I choose to believe. You deserve nothing less.

With the door to the tomb wide open so anyone who wanted could observe the miracle in progress, John 11:43 records the Lord shouting, “Lazarus, come forth!” Then, verse 44 announces that after four days of lifelessness, the formerly deceased friend of Jesus and brother of Mary and Martha walked out of his grave. His exit was somewhat impeded by the cloth wrappings that had been used to prepare his body for burial. So, Jesus invited some in the crowd of stunned observers to participate in the miracle and said, “Loose him, and let him go.”

Come on! This is just flat out amazing! Words fail. I don’t know what else to say but, “Praise God!” It’s an astounding event in the life and ministry of Jesus – so simply described, and yet so powerfully impactful. And that impact stands on its own without requiring any commentary from me.

But there is something in this passage I’d like to highlight, and it’s this: When the Lord speaks, it will usually produce something that needs to be unwrapped.

God’s words are powerful. They create, heal, and restore. They change things in both the visible and invisible realms. Listen to what the Lord himself said about this in Isaiah 55:11:

So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.

Consider the magnitude of the cosmos that erupted from the simple phrase, “Let there be light.”

But his words are also always densely packed with divine perspectives, insights, revelations, and instructions. Psalm 119:105 says:

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

So, if the full dimension of what God intends to set in motion through his words is going to be realized, we need to be more than casual observers of what they produce. We also need to become willing to engage in the process of unpacking the depth and complexity of their meaning. And that’s true whether they’re shouted into a tomb, breathed onto the pages of Scripture, or whispered into our souls.

Whether it was contained within something someone said, a moving piece of music, a Bible passage, or a dramatic sunset, most of us have had moments when we sensed the Lord communicating with us. And it’s sobering to realize those expressions from his heart are meant to both do things and reveal things. So, let’s change how we respond to them.

That means instead of just enjoying the moment and allowing the message to quickly fade from our awareness, we’ll treasure his words enough to capture them by writing down what we believe we’ve heard, telling someone else, or prayerfully acknowledging them before God. We’ll make time to carefully consider what was said, meditating on it, probing its implications, and inviting the Holy Spirit to expand and illuminate it for us. And we’ll respond to what was said with appropriate surrender, repentance, and obedience.

When we learn to value the voice of God by doing these things, we’ll find ourselves becoming more sensitive to its sound. We’ll be quicker to recognize and respond to moments of divine encounter and discover they happen more often than we once thought. More importantly, as we become committed to the discipline of unwrapping, like the bystanders Jesus invited into Lazarus’ miracle story, we’ll be better positioned to participate in the wonderous things Jesus is always doing in the lives of others and the world around us.

John 11 verse 41 tells us that when Lazarus’ grave had been opened, Jesus lifted his eyes heavenward and thanked his Father that he’d been heard. But it’s a little puzzling for us as readers because we’re not given the transcript of what had been said. We don’t even know when he said whatever it was. What we do know is that he went on in verse 42 to explain this expression of gratitude was for the sake of those observing him.

And since in a way, that includes us, I believe we need to stop and consider the implications of this curious and often-overlooked passage before moving on to the main event of Lazarus’ resurrection. Why? Because everything Jesus said and did was meant to be an example to us. These verses are not here just to pad the story. They teach us something.

The Lord clearly wanted the coming miracle to be seen as a response to something he’d requested from the Heavenly Father. He intended it to provide further evidence of his messiahship to those who were present and inspire their faith. But he was not thanking God in advance for what was about to take place. He said he was grateful he’d been heard. And that’s the key.

Although it can’t be known with certainty, it seems reasonable from the context to assume that if Jesus was referring to a prayer he’d offered at the scene, it would have been recorded for us. But it’s not. And I think that at least means he wanted the crowd to understand what they were about to witness was the powerful result of Son-to-Father communication that took place out of their hearing.

Could that private prayer have taken place just prior to these statements? Of course. But it could just as easily have happened hours or days before. And it’s entirely conceivable he was bringing to light something that happened as far back as when the news of Lazarus’ illness first reached him.

His response to that sobering message from Mary and Martha was emphatic. He said, “This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God…” And I think it’s quite possible his confident declaration flowed from an inner assurance that a silent request he’d made to the Father in that moment on behalf of his friends had been heard.

And if that’s the case, it’s a powerful lesson to us. In the time between that forceful proclamation and the moment Lazarus walked out of his tomb, things became progressively dark and appeared hopeless just like what sometimes happens in our circumstances.

But when we truly know we’ve been heard by God it literally changes everything. We find ourselves more able to trust our concerns to his plans and timing. It ushers us into what Philippians 4:7 describes as “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding.” And as Jesus expressed, it gives rise to a thankfulness that’s not about an outcome we’re expecting but about the awesome knowledge that we’ve received an audience with the Lord of Lords and Maker of the Universe.

Earlier this week, our son called to tell us his doctor had removed some tissue from his leg, and it had been diagnosed as malignant melanoma. So, my wife and I immediately went to God in prayer, pressing hard into him until we sensed that deep assurance of his peace. We can’t know how the rest of this story will unfold at this point, so we’ll continue to pray our way through it. But we’re not afraid because we know we’ve been heard!

And that assurance can be yours as well regarding whatever you may be facing today. Claim the promise of Isaiah 65:24 where your Heavenly Father says, “...while they are still speaking, I will hear.”