Hello my friends,

In the midst of all that's happening in our world, I find myself continually asking for God to show up and do something. I think that's what made this week's gospel passage from John 11:1-45 resonate with me differently than it has before. The question over why Jesus delaying before coming to heal Lazarus and both Mary and Martha saying "if you had been here, my brother would not have died" is so similar to many questions I have had myself and many of you have written to me in these days. Why does God delay? So, I wanted to think about that with you today and perhaps find some encouragement together.

Recommended Resources:

​-The Back Side of the Cross: An Atonement Theology for the Abused and Abandoned by Diane Leclerc. My spiritual mentor, Diane Leclerc, recently released this wonderfully profound book, which provides a theological pathway to understanding the cross of Jesus through the eyes of the broken, abused, and abandoned.

​-Evil and the Justice of God by N.T. Wright. This is a good resource on the topic of the problem of evil from one of the most prolific Biblical scholars of our time.

-Night by Elie Wiesel. This has become a classic work on the topic of the problem of evil, grief, tragedy, and loss from the experience of a holocaust survivor.

​-Rethinking Depression by Hidden Brain Podcast. As someone who has long suffered from depression, I found this episode really thought provoking and thought I would share it with you as well. The times we are living in are already heavy. Dealing with depression on top of it all is nearly impossible. Resources like this are always helpful to have.

“If You Had Been Here…”

Before continuing on, I encourage you to go read John 11:1-45.​

The sentence that both sisters speak in this passage carry so much weight and meaning: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

This phrase is said twice, first by Martha, then by Mary. The repetition matters as it tells us this is not just a passing thought, but rather, it is the shared ache of a grieving family.

I believe it is the question beneath so many of our own prayers today as well.

Where were you, God?​
​Why don't you come sooner?​
​Why does it feel like you waited too long?

I don't believe these are questions of unbelief. I believe they are questions born from love, from trust, from a trust in a broken heart that knows that if God had acted, things would be different.

I think this is why what Jesus does in this story rightly unsettles us. He delays.

The Mystery of Delay

The story begins in our passage today with a message sent to Jesus, which says, “Lord, the one you love is sick.” There is no demand, no instruction, it is just naming of a need among loved ones.

The text is clear that Jesus loves this family deeply. The language used emphasizes an intimate and personal affection. And yet, instead of going immediately, he stays where he is for two more days.

This tension cannot help but cause us to ask, "If he loves them, then why wait?"

The passage does not give us a neat answer to that question. We are told that there was a threat against Jesus' life, that he would be stoned if he tried to return. A threat that Thomas speaks of in our passage, through a willingness to face that threat alongside Jesus and even die with him if necessary. Perhaps this is what caused Jesus to be hesitant, as it was not his time to die or he didn't want to put others in harms way?

Whatever the case may be, the text does not attempt to justify suffering or explain away grief. Instead, it calls us to ask a deeper question, can love and delay can exist together, even when we cannot understand how?

It is a tension even those in the text confront Jesus with as well.

By the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been in the tomb for four days. Jewish tradition (referenced in the Talmud) held that for three days, the soul hovered around the body, hoping to return. But by the fourth day, the corpse's appearance changed (decomposing), and all hope was gone. So, according to the theology of the time, in all who were present, death had fully taken hold.

Whatever hope had once remained, everything now feels final.

Faith That Speaks and Faith That Weeps

Martha goes out to meet Jesus first. She speaks with a kind of courageous honesty, which I have always admired. She says, “If you had been here my brother would not have died.” And yet, in the same breath, she expresses trust, saying "But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” She believed that God is still at work through him. Her faith is not the absence of grief, but its companion.

Then we see a different response from Mary. Similar words, but a different posture. She falls at Jesus’ feet and weeps. It is here that something remarkable happens.

Jesus is described as being deeply moved, troubled in spirit. The language used in the original Greek carries a sense of agitation, even indignation. It is not a calm, detached sadness. It is a visceral, emotional response that impacts the innermost parts of Jesus. It is here that we are given one of the shortest verses in the Bible, "Jesus wept."

This paints a deeply profound picture. Before Jesus raises Lazarus, before he speaks life into death, Jesus enters fully into the sorrow of the moment.

He does not rush past grief to get to the miracle. He doesn't allow his knowledge that he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead minimize the suffering death had caused. He honors it. This really matters.

Because when we ask, “Where is God?” the first answer this passage gives is not explanation, it is presence, it is incarnation, it is mourning with those who mourn.

It shows us that God is the one who stands beside the tomb and weeps with those who weep. A God who takes our grief seriously.

In a world where grief is often minimized by well meaning people saying phrases like, "everything happens for a reason," seeing a God who grieves with us, without trying to explain it away with empty platitudes, is deeply meaningful.

“I Am the Resurrection and the Life”

In the midst of this grief, Jesus makes a profound declaration, especially at this point in John's gospel. He says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Not I will be. Not I bring. But I am.

So, this is not just a promise about the future but a statement about his very identity, even in that moment. Resurrection is not merely something Jesus does, but it is who he is.

Yet even after saying this, we are still waiting on Jesus to act. The air seems filled with tension, grief, and a million "what if" questions.

Jesus then walks to the tomb. He stands before it. He asks for the stone to be removed. What will happen?

The Work of the Community

When the stone is rolled away, Jesus calls out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out.” And the man who had been dead walks out of the tomb. It's a miracle.

The text tells us he is still bound though. His hands and feet wrapped, his face covered with cloth. He is alive, but he is still carrying the markers and even the stench of death.

And this is where the story turns toward the community. Jesus does not remove the grave clothes himself. He turns to those gathered there and says, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Resurrection has happened within the community and restoration requires participation from the community.

I think this is the theological heartbeat of the passage. God brings life where there was death, but God also invites people to help remove what still binds. Even when we feel like God is delaying.

Living in the Tension

We live in a world that often feels like God is delaying on many fronts.

Wars continue. Injustice persists. The powerful seem untouched and unconcerned while the vulnerable suffer. And many are saying the same phrase as Martha and Mary in the face of the state of the world, “Lord, if you had been here…”

Many are asking, why the delay? Why does evil seem unchecked? Why does relief come so slowly or not at all? Why do the wicked prosper?

This passage does not dismiss those questions. It honors them. It shows us that faithful people ask them. That grief and belief can coexist. That tears are not a failure of faith, but an expression of it.

And at the same time, it calls us into something more. Even in the delay, Jesus is present. Even in the grief, he is at work. Even at the tomb, life is not finished.

And in the midst of it all, we are given an invitation. When life begins to emerge, when hope breaks through, even in small, fragile ways, we are called to participate in that work. To unbind. To restore. To make space for life to flourish.

What This Means for Us Now

We may not be able to stop wars, as much as we may want to. We may not be able to dismantle systems of injustice overnight. We may not understand why God delays. But we can still roll away stones where we are. We can still help unbind those around us. We can still refuse to let death have the final word in our communities.

Faithfulness in this moment may look small. It may look local. It may seem hidden. It may seem totally unseen by the powers of the world, but it is not insignificant. Because every act of love, every pursuit of justice, every effort to free someone from what binds them is a participation in the life that Jesus brings.

Perhaps when we are the hands and feet of Jesus, someone else will never have to ask why God delayed.

A Prayer in the Waiting

Lord,
We confess that we do not understand your timing.
We have stood at too many tombs,
whispering the same words:
“If you had been here…”

Hold our questions without shame.
Receive our grief without resistance.
Meet us in the places where hope feels buried.

And yet, in your mercy,
help us to hear your voice calling life out of death.

Give us the courage to roll away stones,
even when we are unsure what we will find.
Give us the compassion to unbind one another,
to loosen what death still clings to.

Teach us to trust you in the waiting
and to follow you in the work.

Until the day when every grave is emptied,
and every tear is wiped away.

Amen.

Now I'd like to hear from you! Did you find this helpful? What thoughts came to your mind as you read? Feel free to respond to this email and share your thoughts with me. I look forward to reading them. A Lent Day Devotional: I wrote a daily devotional in hopes to provide a companion for people seeking to follow Jesus through the season of Lent. There is also an audiobook version. You can read more about both below: $20.00 When Love Gets The Last Word: A Lent Devotional Each day of this Lenten devotional will focus on a portion of scripture and invite us to reflect on our lives and our... Read more Get it now! ​ $20.00 Audiobook: When Love Gets The Last Word. Each day of this Lenten devotional will focus on a portion of scripture and invite us to reflect on our lives and our... Read more Get it now! ​ Ways to support: If you'd like to support this project, you can do so through one-time-gift of any amount you feel is right. You can also subscribe through a $5/mo, $15/mo, or $25/mo. Several others have also asked for a recurring gift option that is different from the ones offered here, like this one. If you'd like me to set up a different option for you, please just send me an email with the word "support" in the subject line. As always, I really want to thank all of you for reading and for all the ways you support me and this project every single week. I'm thankful for the ways we are building this together and hope it creates a lasting, positive change in our world along the way! I sincerely appreciate you all, Ben Remember, you can now view this and all previous newsletters as well as invite friends to join through this link: https://benjamin-cremer.ck.page/profile.

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