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“Lord, if you had been here…”, Rev. Melissa St. Clair, 4/6/14

“Lord, if you had been here…”

A sermon preached at

Heart of the Rockies Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)

Fort Collins, CO

by the Rev. Melissa St. Clair

Excerpts from John 11

April 6, 2014

This morning we turn again to John’s gospel, sometimes referred to as the “book of signs,” to dig into the last in a series of seven “signs.”  We’ve touched on others over the past few weeks of Lent –

• Jesus identifies himself to the woman at the well as the Messiah, as Living Water.  “I who speak to you am he (the Messiah)” (4:26)
•  He tells his disciples in response to their questions about the man born blind, “I am the light of the world” (9:5)

We hear yet another “I am” statement this morning in chapter 11.  It would seem that this is a foreshadowing of what is to come on this journey to Jerusalem, to the cross, to the tomb, to the other side of death.  And yet that now-familiar phrase is “I am,” not “I will be,” but “I am.”  Not what is to come, but what is.

READ JOHN 11:3-7, 17, 20-27, 33-45

This story is not only a long one; it is a dangerous one:

• On one hand, Jesus knows that Lazarus is sick, and he takes his time getting there – two whole days pass before he starts out toward Bethany.  Why did he “tarry” (as some have translated it)?
•  On the other hand, Bethany is pretty darn close to Jerusalem, and we know and Jesus knows and his disciples know that Jerusalem is where everything’s going to go down.  “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” his disciples wince in disbelief.
•  On one hand, Jesus knows who he is and whose he is and what power he possesses.  He can overcome death.
•  On the other hand, he loves Lazarus.  “See how he loved him,” the Judeans who followed Mary to Jesus exclaim when they see Jesus all snotty-nosed and puffy-eyed and shoulder-heaving, sobbing on his way to the tomb, the cave where Lazarus’ body was placed after death.  It still hurts.
•  On one hand, Lazarus – literally – has a new lease on life.
•  On the other hand, because his new life, his miraculous healing was associated with Jesus, the chief priests plan to put Lazarus to death too.  Why?  Because of him and his story, more people started to believe in Jesus and follow after him.

What a Kum Ba Yah moment – and not in the negative sense that’s become fashionable among political leaders who use the song’s title in a disparaging way to indicate how tough and pragmatic their stances are as opposed to, you know, just singing Kum Ba Yah together.[1]

You know, the camp song Kum Ba Yah?

Someone’s laughing, Lord, Kum ba yah!

Someone’s crying, Lord, Kum ba yah!

Someone’s singing, Lord, Kum ba yah!

Someone’s praying, Lord, Kum ba yah!

It’s the soundtrack to this scene.  All of these different emotions, these varied responses happening at the same time, all with the same plea – come by here, Lord.  Lord, if you had been here…

But Jesus was intentional about NOT bring there – at least in person.  In fact, he goes so far as to tell his disciples, “For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe.”  That’s kind of messed up, isn’t it?  Jesus saying he was glad he wasn’t there when his dear friend died, anticipating that he could restore Lazarus’ life in such a way that more people would come to believe.  Sounds like a publicity stunt, almost.  And it works.  Those who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

You may have heard this week that our property sold.  We’re planning to move into Castillon’s for our weekly worship.  Jack Krueger, our Building Team leader, felt that “The tables will provide a unique, informal setting for both the 8:30 and 11 o’clock worship services.”  Funds remaining from the sale, over a million dollars, will provide for a variety of worthy projects, including the firing of our senior pastor for Jeff’s having sent this announcement on April 1st, without board approval.

If you believed that, well, then you’d been April fooled.  Just hearing the news and believing it is one thing; seeing it and believing is another.  It wasn’t just a matter of hearing about this Jesus fella.  In John’s gospel, seeing is critical to believing.

Speaking of April Fools day – did you know that today is National Epitaph Day?  If you haven’t already observed National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day, Don’t Got to Work Unless its Fun Day, Go For Broke Day, National Sorry Charlie Day, No Housework Day and Draw a Picture of a Bird Day already this week, then you probably weren’t aware of that fact. (Odyssey Network)

While these special days don’t appear on any liturgical calendar that I’m aware of, National Epitaph Day does seem a fitting observation for a day when scripture invites us to gather at the grave.  And that’s an appropriate, if uncomfortable, place to be as we approach the shadows of Holy Week.  It’s not just Lazarus’ death and resurrection Jesus is tearfully contemplating here – it’s his own.

“He knows that calling Lazarus out of the tomb means that he must enter it.”[2]  That what “Jesus does for his friend, God will do for him.”[3] (BBT)

That’s how’s God gets into the business of re-writing epitaphs – through resurrection.  And it’s not just Lazarus who gets another chance.

My soul waits? says the Psalmist.

No longer, says our God who rewrites the grave with “Redeemed.”

In the flesh? says Paul.

No more, says our God who revises to, “In the Spirit. Christ is in you.”

In the tomb, Lazarus? 

Absolutely not, says our God who resurrects and rewrites, “Your brother will rise again…Unbind him.”

Matilda died over 20 years ago.  She was bound by amyotrophic lateral sclerosis – Lou Gehrig’s disease.  First she lost muscle strength and control in her face.  And then in her vocal cords.  And then in her legs.  When she could no longer talk, she’d write.  Words scribbled as fast as her hands would allow scrawled across an erasable white board.  She would write and erase, write and erase, faster than most of us could read because she was just so darn excited about life.

And then there were her watercolors.  When she couldn’t talk anymore, she taught herself to paint.  Tulips, peonies, daffodils, hibiscus confetti-ed across her kitchen walls.  When you came to visit, you painted too.

Every time Matilda thought she’d lost something she could not live without, she found out that she could.  There was still that painful void at first – maybe an hour, maybe a whole day, sometimes even a week or more.  But eventually, something new always moved to fill the empty space – a fresh series of paintings, a new friend, a deeper sense of the presence of God.

Her resurrection began before she died, and those who loved her best – and really anyone around her – saw it.  The words of her dear friend Barbara Brown Taylor could have well been her epitaph: “When [Matilda] set her cup down it was empty.  There was nothing wasted, nothing left over to spill or lament.  [Those] who sat by her bed that day say their fear of death died with her.”[4]

Even those who experienced Jesus’ resurrecting power to this point in scripture cannot begin to imagine what power over death Jesus will be re-writing.  His epitaph is the best of them all: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”

If this story was only about Lazarus, then only Martha and Mary are blessed.  One family in Bethany thousands of years ago.  But because it’s also a story, on a deeper level, about Jesus, it becomes a blessing far greater; one that touches the whole human family.[5]  That epitaph still rings in our ears today – I am the resurrection and the life.  Not I will be. 

I am.  I am resurrection and life for anyone willing to believe that it just might be true.[6]