Day 3: Raising of Lazarus — I Am the Resurrection and the Life

Reading: John 11:1-44

Listen to: John chapter 11

Historical Context

The raising of Lazarus is the seventh and greatest of the signs in John’s Gospel, the climactic miracle toward which the entire Book of Signs (chapters 1-12) has been building. Each preceding sign has escalated in scope and significance: turning water to wine (chapter 2), healing a royal official’s son at a distance (chapter 4), healing a man paralyzed for thirty-eight years (chapter 5), feeding five thousand (chapter 6), walking on water (chapter 6), and giving sight to a man born blind (chapter 9). Now Jesus confronts the ultimate enemy – death itself – and demonstrates his authority over it with a command that reverberates through the ages: “Lazarus, come out!” (v. 43).

Bethany, the setting of the miracle, was a small village on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives, approximately two miles from Jerusalem (v. 18). Its proximity to the capital is significant: this most public and undeniable of signs occurs within walking distance of the Temple, the Sanhedrin, and the political center of Jewish life. It cannot be dismissed as a rumor from a remote village in Galilee. John introduces the family with deliberate care: Lazarus is ill, and his sisters Mary and Martha send word to Jesus (v. 3). The message is not a demand but a statement of trust: “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” The word for love here is phileo – the love of deep friendship. Jesus’ relationship with this family is intimate, personal, and specific.

Jesus’ response to the news is paradoxical: “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” (v. 4). John then adds a seemingly contradictory editorial note: “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two more days in the place where he was” (vv. 5-6). The conjunction “so” (oun) is startling. We expect: “Jesus loved them, so he went immediately.” Instead: “Jesus loved them, so he delayed.” The delay is not indifference but intentional. Jesus is orchestrating events so that Lazarus will be dead four days before he arrives. In rabbinic tradition (attested in later texts like Genesis Rabbah 100:7 and Leviticus Rabbah 18:1), there was a belief that the soul hovered near the body for three days, hoping to re-enter it, but departed on the fourth day when decomposition began. By waiting until the fourth day, Jesus ensures that no one can claim Lazarus was merely in a coma or that the soul spontaneously returned. The miracle is unambiguous: Lazarus is dead, decomposing, and beyond any natural hope of resuscitation.

When Jesus finally arrives, Martha meets him on the road with a statement that is both grief and confession: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (v. 21). There is no accusation in her tone, only a recognition of Jesus’ power and a lament that it was not exercised sooner. She then adds, “But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you” (v. 22) – a remarkable expression of faith that keeps the door open for the impossible. Jesus’ response is one of the most profound declarations in Scripture: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” (vv. 25-26). This is the fifth of the seven “I AM” statements in John’s Gospel, and it is the most personal. Jesus does not say, “I will perform a resurrection” or “I will give you life.” He says, “I AM the resurrection and the life.” The resurrection is not an event that Jesus causes; it is a reality that Jesus embodies. Where Jesus is, death cannot maintain its grip. Martha’s confession – “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world” (v. 27) – rivals Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi and is, in John’s Gospel, the most complete christological statement made by any character before the resurrection.

Mary comes to Jesus and falls at his feet with the same words Martha used: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (v. 32). But where Martha’s approach was theological and conversational, Mary’s is visceral and grief-stricken. Her weeping (klaio – loud wailing, the customary expression of grief) moves Jesus deeply. John uses two extraordinary expressions to describe Jesus’ emotional response. First, “he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled” (v. 33). The word translated “deeply moved” (enebrimesato) is not a word of gentle sympathy; it means to snort with anger, to be furious, to feel indignation. It is the same word used of an angry horse. What provokes this anger? Not Mary’s grief but death itself – the monstrous, creation-defiling enemy that was never part of God’s original design. Jesus is enraged at the devastation that death inflicts on the people he loves. Second, “Jesus wept” (v. 35) – the shortest verse in the English Bible but one of the most theologically significant. The word used here (edakrysen) is different from the loud wailing (klaio) of Mary and the mourners. It means to shed tears silently, to weep quietly. The Son of God who knows he is about to raise Lazarus from the dead still weeps at the tomb. His foreknowledge does not eliminate his compassion. The tears reveal that Jesus does not stand above human grief as a detached deity but enters into it fully, feeling the weight of death even as he prepares to defeat it.

At the tomb – a cave with a stone laid against it, typical of first-century Judean burial practice – Jesus commands the stone to be removed. Martha objects: “Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days” (v. 39). The Greek word ozei is blunt: “he stinks.” Martha’s objection is both practical and theological – she knows the biological reality of decomposition, and she is not yet fully grasping what Jesus is about to do. Jesus reminds her of his earlier promise: “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” (v. 40). After praying aloud – not for his own benefit but “on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me” (v. 42) – Jesus cries out with a loud voice: “Lazarus, come out!” (v. 43). The early church father Augustine noted the tradition that Jesus called Lazarus by name because if he had simply said “Come out!” every grave on earth would have opened.

The dead man comes out, “his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth” (v. 44). The graveclothes detail is significant for multiple reasons. First, it confirms the reality of the burial – Lazarus was not merely laid in the tomb but prepared according to Jewish burial custom, wrapped in linen with a separate face cloth (soudarion). Second, it creates a stunning visual contrast with Jesus’ own resurrection: when Peter and the beloved disciple enter the empty tomb in John 20:6-7, they find the linen cloths lying there and the face cloth “folded up in a place by itself.” Lazarus comes out still bound; Jesus leaves his graveclothes behind. Lazarus is resuscitated – returned to mortal life, destined to die again. Jesus is resurrected – transformed into immortal life, never to die again. The distinction is crucial: the raising of Lazarus points forward to something greater.

Jesus’ final command – “Unbind him, and let him go” (v. 44) – gives the community a role in the miracle. Jesus raises the dead; the community removes the graveclothes. This pattern – divine power working through human agency – is characteristic of Jesus’ ministry throughout the Gospels.

Key Themes

• Jesus as the embodiment of resurrection – The fifth “I AM” statement declares that resurrection is not merely a future event but a present person. Where Jesus is, death is overruled.
• The tears of God – Jesus’ weeping at Lazarus’ tomb reveals a God who does not observe human suffering from a distance but enters into it with furious compassion, grieving the destruction that death inflicts even as he prepares to defeat it.
• Life that precipitates death – The greatest sign in John’s Gospel paradoxically triggers the decision to kill Jesus. The gift of life to Lazarus becomes the occasion for the death sentence against the Life-Giver himself.

Connections

• Old Testament Roots: Ezekiel 37:1-14 (the Valley of Dry Bones – God commanding the dead to live), 1 Kings 17:17-24 (Elijah raising the widow’s son), 2 Kings 4:32-37 (Elisha raising the Shunammite’s son), Daniel 12:2 (those who sleep in the dust shall awake).
• New Testament Echoes: John 5:21-29 (the Son gives life to whom he will and the dead will hear his voice), Romans 8:11 (the Spirit who raised Jesus will also give life to your mortal bodies), 1 Corinthians 15:26 (the last enemy to be destroyed is death), Revelation 1:18 (“I have the keys of Death and Hades”).
• Parallel Passages: Luke 7:11-17 (the raising of the widow’s son at Nain), Mark 5:35-43 (the raising of Jairus’ daughter). The raising of Lazarus is unique to John’s Gospel.

Reflection Questions

1. Jesus deliberately delayed coming to Bethany, and Lazarus died during the delay. Have you experienced seasons when God’s timing felt devastatingly wrong? How does Jesus’ intentional delay – motivated by love, aimed at a greater glory – reshape your understanding of unanswered prayer?
2. “Jesus wept.” The Son of God who knew he was about to raise Lazarus still cried at the tomb. What does this tell you about the nature of compassion? Does knowing that suffering will eventually be resolved eliminate the pain of experiencing it in the present?
3. Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” He does not say, “I will raise people someday.” How does the present tense of this declaration – resurrection as a person, not merely a future event – change the way you face death, grief, and loss right now?

Prayer

Lord Jesus, you stood at the tomb of your friend and wept. You were not indifferent to death; you were enraged by it. You did not observe grief from a distance; you entered it with your whole being. We bring our own tombs to you today – the losses we carry, the hopes that have decomposed, the relationships that stink of death after four days. Speak your commanding word into our graves. Call us by name. Unbind us from the graveclothes of despair, guilt, and hopelessness. You are the resurrection and the life – not someday, but now. We believe this. Help our unbelief. Amen.