Dwelling in Dissonance: Love and Grief, Glory and Belief
John 11:1–44
Introduction: A Familiar Story, A Fresh Word
As we begin the season of Lent, a six-week journey that leads us toward the cross and ultimately toward the resurrection, we are following the narrative arc of John’s Gospel, which brings us today to John 11, the story of Lazarus—his sickness, his death, the grief of Martha and Mary, and the moment when Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb. When I first saw that this was the lectionary text, my initial reaction was, “Really? We were just here,” because some of you will remember that we touched on this passage during Advent and explored it more deeply in our Bible study, and so it felt like a return to familiar ground. But as I sat with the passage again, I was reminded of something important, especially for those who know these stories well, and it is this: the text may not change, but we do, and the Spirit of God meets us in familiar passages with a word that is fresh for the season we are actually living in.
John 11 is a story that refuses to flatten the tension of life into easy answers, because it holds together realities that we often try to separate too quickly—love and grief, glory and belief—and instead of resolving that tension, it invites us to dwell there long enough to discover that Jesus does not simply arrive with power to fix everything immediately, but that he enters into our sorrow, shares in our grief, and calls us to trust him even there.
A Testimony of Death and Resurrection
I believe that the death and resurrection of Jesus was a literal, historical event that took place at a particular time in human history. Though I have never witnessed a literal resurrection, I have seen what I would describe as the death and resurrection of hopes and dreams, and one of those moments came early in my ministry.
I was serving in the church I had grown up in, and I loved the people and the work. We began to see encouraging growth, and I believed this was where God had called me to serve. Then, unexpectedly, I was told that my role was coming to an end, not because I had failed, but because the direction of the church was shifting. I remember going for a long winter run that day, trying to process what felt like a loss I had not chosen. Something I believed God had given seemed to be taken away. And yet, in that season, something deeper was being formed in me. I was learning how to finish well, how to trust God when the path did not make sense, and how to remain faithful even when I was no longer on the path I had imagined. In time, after further conversation and prayer, I was invited to stay and continue in my role, and what had felt like a kind of death became, in a very real sense, a resurrection, as I continued in that ministry position for five more years of fruitful ministry.
Sometimes find myself asking the same kind of questions we hear in John 11: why the delay, why the difficulty, and why did it unfold this way? Wasn’t there an easier path? I do not have a complete answer, but I have come to believe that God is often more concerned with what he is doing in us than what he is doing through us, and that some of the most important lessons we learn in following Jesus are formed not in ease, but in the tension of some of the most challenging experiences of our lives.
Three Invitations from John 11
- Name the Dissonance Honestly in the Presence of Jesus
One of the striking features of this story is that Martha and Mary do not attempt to tidy up their grief, but instead say plainly, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21, 32). This is both a confession of faith and an expression of disappointment. What we see in Jesus’ response is not correction but presence. He stays with them, listens, and ultimately enters into their grief. We are reminded that bringing our questions, confusion, and even frustration into the presence of God is not a failure, but often the place where faith begins to deepen. If you find yourself in a season where God’s timing does not make sense, you do not need to pretend everything is fine. Jesus is not threatened by your honesty, and he meets you in the reality of your experience. - Trust That Jesus’ Love Is Not Disproven by Delay
John tells us that Jesus loved Lazarus and his sisters, and yet John also writes that Jesus delayed going to them (John 11:5–6), which forces us to confront a tension that many of us feel, namely that love and delay can coexist. When God does not act as quickly as we would like, it is tempting to interpret that delay as absence or indifference. But this story challenges that assumption. Jesus does arrive. He enters the situation. He weeps (John 11:35). And he acts. But he does so according to a timing and purpose larger than what Martha and Mary can see. In other words, the presence of delay does not negate the presence of Jesus’ love.
- Respond to Jesus’ Call and Allow the Community to Help Unbind You
When Jesus finally arrives and stands before the tomb, he calls Lazarus by name, and Lazarus comes out (John 11:43–44). But L is still wrapped in grave clothes, still bound by what once held him. Jesus then turns to those around him and says, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.” Resurrection is both personal and communal. Jesus brings life, but the community helps a person walk in that life. There are times when we need to hear the voice of Christ calling us out of places that feel like death, and there are also times when we need others to come alongside us and help remove what continues to bind us, whether that is fear, grief, or patterns that no longer align with the life Jesus has given.
The Gospel Beneath the Story
While Lazarus is raised, this is not the final victory over death, because Lazarus will die again. This moment functions as a sign pointing forward to something greater.
In John’s Gospel, the raising of Lazarus sets in motion the events that lead to Jesus’ own death. Unlike Lazarus, Jesus will not simply be called out of the tomb by another, but will enter death fully and break it open from the inside through his resurrection, securing a victory that is not temporary but final.
This means that when we find ourselves living in the tension between what is and what we long for, we are not abandoned. The story of Jesus assures us that love is present even in grief, that tears are not a sign of failure but of participation in a broken world that God is redeeming, and that glory is not absent but often hidden, waiting to be revealed in God’s time.
Conclusion: Dwelling in Dissonance with Jesus
So as we begin this season of Lent, I want to invite you not to rush past the unresolved places in your life, but to dwell in them with Jesus, trusting that he is not afraid of your questions, your grief, or the tensions you carry.
Because Jesus meets us in those places, not with quick answers or easy resolutions, but with his presence, and as we walk with him, he leads us, often slowly and sometimes mysteriously, toward the hope of resurrection that stands at the center of our faith. Amen.