Jesus wept

This past weekend, I heard probably the best sermon I’d ever heard on suffering at the Summit Church. It was part of a bigger series called “Can’t Believe”, looking at stories in John and different stumbling blocks in faith people generally have. Obviously the problem of suffering is one of those. To hear everything JD preached on, I would definitely suggest listening to the sermon online, you can get a podcast of it for free. But the part that really got me is when Jesus’s response to suffering was discussed. We looked at the story of the death of Lazarus, in John 11. In the story, it seems kind of odd that Jesus would purposefully wait to come to Lazarus’ aid until after he already died, even though Mary and Martha begged him to come. 

“Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, so when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days.” – John 11:5-6, ESV

The word “so” in that verse seems very inappropriate and doesn’t really seem to make any sense. I know plenty of people have that feeling that God sees them suffering, they beg for His help, but He seems to turn away or not do anything. In a human mind, that doesn’t seem like a “good God” thing to do.  But in this story, this period of grief was necessary to see the glory of God revealed in such a dramatic way, as Jesus stood in the face of death and won. 

The next part of the sermon that I really connected to is how Jesus demonstrates two different responses to our suffering: in verse 25, Jesus reassures Martha that He is the resurrection and those who believe in Him will never die, and in verse 35, Jesus wept when He saw Mary grieving. Not only does God give us the theological answer and explain how He’s already defeated death and evil and sadness, but He weeps with us. It’s kind of crazy to think that the Creator of the universe, the sovereign king of everything, and the one who gave His own life for mine, weeps with me when I experience suffering. Let me tell you that kind of blew my mind, and I couldn’t help remember when I’d seen this all played out in my life very recently.

A couple months ago, I wrote about the week while I was in Honduras that Herman, a boy I’ve poured into for the last year, decided to leave the Christian life he was living, move back to Los Pinos and fall back into his old life of streets and drugs and pure darkness.  Besides teaching me what constant prayer looked like, I think the situation taught me way more than I know even now. I asked so many times why God allowed it to happen, why God would think that Herman is better off in Los Pinos, doing thinner and cocaine and marijuana all the first night he went back. In my eyes, anyone can see that’s a terrible plan. But while I was listening to this sermon, I couldn’t help but realize that those sufferings were just the “birth pains” to God’s eventual glory. I got to see that glory revealed a week later when Herman realized he can’t do life alone, came back and fell on his knees in the grass taking a deep breath and saying “I feel free”, and eventually accepting Christ as His Savior that night. If the glory of God isn’t capturing a former street kid’s heart while he’s in a place surrounded by darkness and just a week ago said he never wanted any part of this life ever again, I don’t know what is. I saw the glory of God that day, but man did it hurt to get there. And looking back now, I can see that God was right there next to me, next to Herman, weeping with us both as he saw us in such pain.

We worship a God that wept alone in the garden, and faced every single bit of death and darkness in this world at the cross alone, and won. He did this so that He can be with us during each of our sufferings in this crazy world we’ve made, and He can reassure us that He’s already in fact won. He beat death, and we get to live in that freedom. And even though it hurts sometimes, hurts bad, we can know that God is right there with us, weeping, and revealing His glory at the most unexpected of times.