In any survey of the greatest barriers to faith, the question of suffering always comes at the top of the list. Ahead of science, of biblical reliability, of judgement, of doubt – all the other thorny issues which cause people to wonder. And the reason for this is ultimately personal: when people struggle with suffering, it’s not an abstract question. ‘Why does God allow suffering?’ nearly always means, ‘Why did God allow me/my family member/my friend to suffer?’ Life throws up questions we can’t answer; questions we want to address to God.
This famous story of Lazarus is a perfect example of this. Many of us love this story, we treasure it, and it contains one of the greatest promises in all scripture (‘I am the resurrection and the life’ – more on that tomorrow); but in our eagerness to celebrate what Jesus ultimately does, we have to face the difficult questions, too. In yesterday’s and today’s passages, there are at least four confusing things to navigate, the first of which we noted yesterday in v4: ‘this illness will not end in death.’
Then v6: Jesus loves Lazarus and his sisters but chooses to delay his visit. Even worse, he says in v15: ‘I am glad I was not there.’ At the time Jesus said this, who on earth could have interpreted that in a pastorally positive way? Finally, in then apparently changing his mind and deciding to go, Jesus is potentially putting his life, and his disciples’ lives, in danger: (v8) ‘a short while ago the Jews there tried to stone you and yet you are going back?’
None of it makes any sense – at least not in the moment these things happened. Is this not our experience, too? And when it is, how do we face it?
There’s no perfect answer to that question, but this passage does give us two vital clues, two great comforts: the first is that only the Lord knows the end of every story. We know the beginning, maybe the middle – but the Lord knows the end. God acts for his glory, and that of his Son (v4), and he orchestrates our lives ‘that you may believe’ (v15). So often we can look back and see the hand of God at work, in ways we couldn’t appreciate at the time. Not always as dramatic as in the case of Lazarus, but definite threads of grace and blessing, even in seasons of suffering and trial.
The second is that we have a Light to guide us. Jesus draws a contrast between walking in ‘this world’s light’ and stumbling in the darkness (vv9-10) – but he’s not just talking about sunlight. He is the true Light of the world, and this light is available to all his followers, even if we can only see a few steps ahead at certain points in time.
Ultimately, seasons of trial and suffering call us to trust – in God’s purposes, in His goodness, in his Light. For some of us reading today, we find ourselves in such a place. I invite all of us to pray for those facing such times. And if that’s you, our passage ends with a beautiful invitation: Jesus turns to his friends and invites them to go with him. Jesus is calling you to trust, to go with him: will you go?