In this article
There are some prayers that are easier to understand when God says no.
At least then you have an answer.
But what do you do when He doesn't say anything?
What do you do when you know He can do something, you believe He loves you, you've asked Him to come—and He seems to take too long?
That's the part of the story of Lazarus that I can't get away from.
We know how John 11 ends, so it's easy for us to read it differently than Mary and Martha lived it.
We know Lazarus is coming out of that tomb.
They didn't.
They were living the story one day at a time.
Their brother was sick. They knew Jesus loved him. They had seen what Jesus could do.
So they sent word to Him:
“Lord, the one you love is sick.”
That's really all they had to say.
Jesus knew who they were talking about.
And I imagine they expected Him to come.
I would have.
But He didn't.
Jesus Knew—and He Waited
John gives us a detail that almost feels uncomfortable when you really read it.
John 11:5–6 tells us that Jesus loved Martha, Mary, and Lazarus.
Then He waited two more days.
I don't know about you, but those two things don't naturally go together in my mind.
If you love them, go.
If you can heal him, heal him.
If you know they're hurting, why wait?
Yet John makes sure we know Jesus loved them before telling us that Jesus stayed where He was.
That means whatever was happening in the waiting, it wasn't because Jesus didn't care.
And I think somebody needs to hear that.
God's delay is not proof of God's absence.
But that doesn't make waiting easy.
Because Mary and Martha weren't reading John 11.
They were living it.
Every hour Jesus didn't arrive was another hour Lazarus got worse.
And eventually the thing they were praying wouldn't happen...
happened.
Lazarus died.
“If You Had Been Here”
When Jesus finally arrives, Lazarus has been dead four days.
Martha goes out to meet Him.
And the first thing she says is something I've always found incredibly honest:
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
I've heard people pray things that sound a lot like that.
I've probably prayed things that felt like that.
God, You could have stopped this.
God, I asked You.
God, where were You?
We sometimes act as though real faith never asks those questions.
Martha proves otherwise.
Because almost immediately after telling Jesus how disappointed she is, she's still expressing faith in Him.
She's hurting and believing at the same time.
Those things can coexist.
You can trust God and still not understand God.
Mary eventually comes to Jesus too.
She says the exact same thing:
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
But Mary doesn't stand there talking.
She falls at His feet.
Two sisters.
Same loss.
Same Jesus.
Same sentence.
Different grief.
And Jesus doesn't rebuke either one.
He lets them grieve.
Then Jesus Does Something Incredible
Jesus cries.
“Jesus wept.”
Most of us learned that verse as children because it was the easiest Bible verse to memorize.
Two words.
But those might be two of the most important words in the entire story.
Because Jesus knew what He was about to do.
Think about that.
Jesus knew Lazarus wasn't staying in that grave.
He knew resurrection was minutes away.
And He still cried.
That's important.
Because sometimes Christians are so anxious to get people to resurrection that we don't give them permission to stand at the tomb.
We want to say:
God has a plan.
Everything happens for a reason.
You'll see them again.
God is going to use this.
And some of those statements may contain truth.
But Jesus didn't walk up to grieving sisters and immediately give them a sermon about why they shouldn't be sad.
He wept with them.
Hope didn't make Jesus less compassionate.
Knowing the ending didn't make the middle hurt less.
And if Jesus could cry while knowing resurrection was coming, then your tears are not evidence that you've lost your faith.
Sometimes crying is faith.
Sometimes grief is what love looks like when the person you love isn't there anymore.
Sometimes the Miracle Comes After the Funeral
Then Jesus walks toward the tomb.
And this is where the story becomes the story we all remember.
The stone is moved.
Jesus calls:
“Lazarus, come out!”
And a dead man walks.
What a moment.
But here's what I don't want us to miss:
The miracle came after the funeral.
Mary and Martha wanted Jesus to prevent the grave.
Jesus showed them He had authority over it.
Those aren't the same thing.
Sometimes we're asking God:
“Don't let me go through this.”
And God's presence becomes most visible to us in the middle of the thing we desperately wanted Him to prevent.
But I also want to be careful here.
Because I've been around church long enough to know how easily we can turn one Bible story into a promise God never made.
Lazarus coming out of the grave does not mean every person we pray for will be healed.
It doesn't mean every marriage will be restored.
It doesn't mean every diagnosis changes.
It doesn't mean that if you believe enough, your story will end exactly the way you want.
Some graves stay closed.
I know that personally.
When my dad died, there wasn't a Lazarus moment afterward.
There wasn't a phone call saying there had been a mistake.
There wasn't another chapter where everything went back to normal.
There was grief.
There were questions.
There were things in my own life and marriage that grief exposed that I wasn't prepared for.
And there was God.
Not always answering the questions I wanted answered.
But there.
That's an important distinction.
The Resurrection Was Standing in Front of Martha
Before Lazarus ever comes out, Jesus tells Martha:
“I am the resurrection and the life.”
He doesn't just say:
I can perform resurrection.
He says:
I am resurrection.
That's where Christian hope ultimately rests.
Not in the promise that God will prevent every funeral.
Not in the promise that every prayer gets answered the way we wanted.
Not even in the promise that everything eventually makes sense to us.
Our hope is a Person.
Jesus.
And because of Him, even death doesn't get the final word.
Lazarus eventually died again.
But Jesus was pointing toward a resurrection that would be permanent.
A day when death itself loses.
When Jesus Feels Late
Maybe you're reading this from somewhere between the message being sent and Jesus arriving.
You're waiting.
You've prayed.
And nothing seems to be happening.
I won't insult you by pretending I know why.
Sometimes we don't get that answer.
But John 11 gives me something else to hold onto.
Jesus was not late because He didn't love them.
And when He arrived, He wasn't offended by their questions.
Martha talked.
Mary collapsed.
Jesus cried.
And somehow there was room for all of it.
So if you're grieving, grieve.
If you have questions, bring them.
If all you can say is,
“Jesus, if You had been here...”
say it.
He can handle that prayer.
And when you don't understand what He's doing, remember what Martha discovered:
Sometimes the answer we desperately want isn't an explanation.
Sometimes the answer standing in front of us is simply:
Jesus.
