All of You

Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead is one of the strangest and most mysterious passages in all of the Gospels. The sequence of Jesus’ actions throughout the Gospel passage doesn’t seem to make any logical sense. 

First he hears that his friend Lazarus is sick and his family is calling for him, presumably to rescue him from the grip of death. Jesus intentionally waits, deciding not to save Lazarus before he dies but after. 

Ok, cool, that makes sense, right?

But then Jesus arrives at the tomb with Marth and Mary all sad. Why? You would think, if he knew he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead he would come riding in on his white horse declaring an end to the sorrow. Yet, what does he do when he arrives? He weeps with them. 

Then he has a conversation with Martha where he sort of tells her what he’s going to do, but in an exciting, “what this!” kind of way but in a seemingly serious and direct way. 

Finally, he miraculously raises Lazarus from the dead. 

To me, it doesn’t seem to add up. Why did Jesus weep with Martha and Mary if he was going to raise their brother from the dead? If it were me, I wouldn’t let my friends stay heartbroken for a second longer than absolutely necessary! And I certainly wouldn’t let my friend stay dead for longer than was needed. Both seem cruel. Yet, Jesus waits. Why?

Now, I know I’m not a biblical expert, but, as far as I can tell Jesus was pretty intentional about everything he did. The only reason why he might wait, the only reason why he might take the time to weep with Martha and Mary was to receive and validate their pain and sadness. Jesus intentionally and authentically modeled the proper disposition of someone who is confident in the resurrection to come but present to the current pain of death. Moreover, Jesus is God, and as God, he doesn’t need anything from us. He didn’t need comfort or reassurance or anything of the sort. He wept for the sake of Martha and Mary and he wept for our sake. Death, the ultimate separation from those we love, is unequivocally the most awful and horrible human experience. And if we are in a healthy spiritual and emotional state, it will produce pain and sorrow to the point of tears. To be people of the resurrection doesn’t mean we don’t have feelings or, more importantly, should try and hide our feelings from God or others. 

I bring up this Gospel passage seemingly once a week in the context of Mentorship. And the reason is simple. In one way or another, we are all seemingly in a regular state of holding something back from God. We try to shelter him from every detail of our thoughts or feelings. We characterize things as petty or inconsequential or inappropriate to prayer, not because they are any of those things, but because we’re unconsciously afraid to give ourselves completely to God!

When I read this passage, I read about a God who says, “I am here to receive all of you because when I have all of you, I can resurrect all of you.”

Practically speaking, this has profound implications for how we pray. When you go to prayer, how do you go to prayer? Do you pray using the words you think you are supposed to use? Do you pray in the posture you think you are supposed to pray in? Do you complain to God? Do you cuss as you would when you are truly relaxed and at ease? Do you share every detail regardless of that voice in your head that says something you care about is actually just a trivial little nothing? Do you feel guilty, like Martha did, bringing your sadness or your sorrow to God, adding little qualifiers and even downplaying your own emotions?

My guess is yes. Not because I can read your mind but because we all do it. We all withhold, downplay, or devalue our own emotions at one point or another. 

But Jesus, in all his love and compassion, says, “Come to me”, “give it all to me,” “hold nothing back!” Jesus, in all his love and compassion weeps with us, laughs with us, gets angry with us, if we let him, if we give him the chance. 

One of the hardest things to do if we want to advance in the spiritual life, is to let God tell us what is important and what’s not important, to let him decide what to do with how we feel, not to try and protect or shield or withhold from him from the depths of our experience. 

So, next time you enter into prayer, my challenge to you is simple. Speak what is on your heart without reservation or qualification. And do so as you would if you were speaking with your best friend. Share what saddens you, what frustrates you, what confuses you, what excites you, what scares you and so on. Say it all. Leave no stone unturned. It can be a scary proposition. Especially if, right now, there is something you know you have been withholding from him. 

But have courage. 

Say the thing. 

Open your heart. 

And let God be God.