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Now 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
This is one of the most unsettling lines in Scripture.
It doesn’t say Jesus was too busy.
It doesn’t say He was unsure what to do.
It doesn’t say He got the message late.
It says He loved them… so He stayed.
This wasn’t a failure of compassion.
It was a deliberate delay, born out of a kind of love we struggle to understand.
Because the love we often long for is rescuing love—the kind that shows up fast and fixes everything.
But the love of Jesus in John 11 is resurrecting love—and that kind of love sometimes lets things die first.
🕯️ The Painful Mystery of Delay
Martha and Mary knew Jesus well.
They had hosted Him, served Him, believed in Him.
They didn’t question His power. That’s why they sent for Him.
And He didn’t come.
They watched their brother grow worse.
They sat in the suffocating stillness of unanswered prayer.
And when the final breath came, hope didn’t just fade—it collapsed.
This wasn’t just about Lazarus.
This was about their relationship with Jesus.
It was a spiritual heartbreak: He didn’t come. Not for us. Not when it mattered most.
And still—they buried Lazarus.
Still—they wrapped him in cloth and sealed the tomb.
They performed every act of finality, even while they carried the ache of “But He could have stopped this.”
✨ Resurrection Requires the Reality of Death
The most jarring thing about this story is that Jesus knew what He would do.
He knew Lazarus would walk again.
But He still allowed the funeral to unfold.
He still let them feel the sting of finality.
He still let the community gather in mourning.
He still let grief become real.
Why?
Because He wasn’t just after Lazarus’s breath.
He was after their faith.
A faith that could believe in the God who comes—even after the tomb is closed.
Sometimes, love doesn’t swoop in to save.
Sometimes, it waits for the death of what we thought we needed
so it can resurrect what we never thought was possible.
💔 When God Feels Absent in Your Story
This is the hardest part:
Sometimes you will love Jesus and still feel the sting of His silence.
You will pray and watch the diagnosis worsen.
You will believe and still bury something you hoped would live.
And you will wonder, like Martha and Mary did:
“Lord, if you had been here…”
If You had been here, the marriage wouldn’t have died.
If You had been here, the friendship would’ve stayed.
If You had been here, my husband would still be breathing beside me.
It is no small thing to sit in that kind of waiting—
where it seems like God should have come by now but didn’t.
But John 11 whispers:
He loves you.
He’s not indifferent.
He’s not late.
He’s writing resurrection—but first, He’s letting you name your loss.
🌿 Jesus Doesn’t Avoid the Grief—He Enters It
When Jesus finally arrives, He doesn’t begin with a miracle.
He begins with presence.
With weeping.
With outrage.
With emotion that mirrors our own.
“Jesus wept.”
—John 11:35
He could’ve stood above their sorrow.
Instead, He joined it.
He stood outside the tomb and let Himself feel it.
This is not a Savior who rushes to “fix” things so we’ll stop crying.
This is a Savior who cries with us, then calls life out of what we thought was lost.
🪨 Love That Rolls Stones Away
What happens next is extraordinary.
Not just because Lazarus is raised—
but because Jesus asks others to roll away the stone.
“Take away the stone,” he said. —John 11:39
He invites Martha, Mary, and the community into the miracle.
They participate in the moment that undoes death.
And when He calls Lazarus out, He uses his name—
as if to say, I didn’t forget you.
Even in silence.
Even in sickness.
Even in the dark.
🌅 Final Reflection: What If the Delay Is Love?
If you are in a season where Jesus feels absent,
where the waiting has gone on too long,
where something you loved has been buried and sealed—
you are not alone.
This is not the end.
John 11 reminds us that:
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Love sometimes lets the burial happen before the blessing.
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Love sometimes waits so faith can deepen.
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Love doesn’t always rescue—but it always resurrects.
And maybe—just maybe—what feels like absence right now is the setup for a miracle that takes longer because it means more.
Jesus is not late.
He is arriving exactly when resurrection will carry the most glory.
So hold on.
Weep if you must.
Roll back the stone when asked.
And listen—because He’s still calling names out of tombs.
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