‘If only I’d been there…’ I wonder if you’ve ever found yourself thinking something like that? Sadly, many of us have, usually with a sense of loss at something we missed out on. It can also work the other way round: ‘if only you’d been here,’ someone might say to us – maybe an event we’d have enjoyed, or maybe because we could have contributed something that was needed. A skill, perhaps – either practical or medical.
Sometimes our absence relates to a situation which causes us to feel guilt, because our presence would have made a positive impact. This certainly seems to be the case in our famous story, and Jesus’ encounter with (previously) Martha and then (today) his sister Mary. It is the first thing that both sisters say to Jesus – ‘if you had been here…’ – perhaps in sorrow, but possibly also in accusation. They both love Jesus, but that might make their disappointment and sadness all the more acute. Certainly, those watching this remarkable episode were more accusatory: (v37) ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?’ Where were you, Jesus, when we needed you?
That question is one that many of us face in the trials of life. As we reflected a few days ago, when bad things happen we feel confused, our faith is challenged, we may feel we have hard questions to ask Jesus. And what we observe today (as we did a few days ago) is that Jesus can take our hard questions. He doesn’t get angry or self-justificatory. Indeed, he feels our pain.
The word John uses in v33 which is translated ‘deeply moved’ is far more visceral than that. It literally means ‘his guts wrenched’ – it is a compassion so deep he feels physical pain or nausea. Jesus emphathises that much – not just with Mary and Martha, but with us, too.
The shortest verse in the bible is perhaps also the most profound: (v35) ‘Jesus wept.’ In those two simple words, we see God’s great heart of compassion for humanity – the heart that led him to create us, to provide for us, to come to this broken world to love us and meet with us and befriend us and bless us and save us. We worship a ‘with-us’ God – not just an ‘up-there’ God, one who is too majestic to get his hands dirty, or his cheeks streaked with tears. We worship a God who weeps for his dead friend.
It’s not a philosophical answer to the problem of suffering, but a heart of compassion, an arm round the shoulder, a promise of his presence. And, whilst Mary and Martha experienced Jesus’ physical presence, our good news is that, by His Spirit, we can know Jesus’ constant presence in our hearts, his abiding comfort and compassion.
If you weep today, Jesus weeps with you. If you rejoice, Jesus rejoices. He is with you. Always.