"You never know what to say at funerals. This one is no exception. The chapel is library quiet. People acknowledge each other with soft smiles and nods. You say nothing. What's to be said? There's a dead body in the place, for crying out loud! Just last month you took the guy out to lunch. You and Lazarus told jokes over nachos. Aside from a bad cough, you thought he was healthy. Within a week you learned of the diagnosis. The doctor gave him sixty days. He didn't make it that long. Now you're both at his funeral. He in the casket. You in the pew. Death has silenced you both. The church is full, so you stand at the back. Stained glass prisms the afternoon sun, streaking faces with shafts of purple and gold. You recognize many of them. Bethany is a small town. The two women on the front pew you know well. Martha and Mary are the sisters of Lazarus. Quiet, pensive Mary. Bustling, busy Martha. Even now she can't sit still. She keeps looking over her shoulder. Who for? you wonder."
Of course Martha is looking for Jesus. And when He comes, He embraces her. And she cries. Lucado writes, "You wonder what Jesus is going to do. You wonder what Jesus is going to say. He spoke to the winds and the demons. Remarkable. But death? Does he have anything to say about death? Your thoughts are interrupted by Martha's accusation: 'Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died' (John 11:21)". That sounds like our reaction to death, huh? We blame God...even though it's all part of His plan. We tell Him that if only He had been there, things might have been different. Ohh...how silly of us. Anyway, I don't think we can ever understand why God takes some people earlier than He takes others. Death is a sad thing, no doubt. Martha sat, feeling miserable and sad. "And Jesus sat in it with her. [...] Do you see a Savior with Terminator tenderness bypassing the tears of Martha and Mary and, in doing so, telling them and all grievers to buck up and trust? I don't. I don't because of what Jesus does next. He weeps. He sits on the pew between Mary and Martha, puts an arm around each, and sobs. Among the three, a tsunami of sorrow is stirred; a monsoon of tears is released. Tears that reduce to streaks the watercolor conceptions of a cavalier Christ. Jesus weeps. He weeps with them. He weeps for them. He weeps with you. He weeps for you. He weeps so we will know: Mourning is not disbelieving. Flooded eyes don't represent a faithless heart. A person can enter a cemetery Jesus-certain of life after death and still have a Twin Tower crater in the heart. Christ did. He wept, and he knew he was ten minutes from seeing a living Lazarus! And his tears give you permission to shed your own. Grief does not mean you don't trust; it simply means you can't stand the thought of another day without the Jacob or Lazarus of your life. If Jesus gave the love, he understands the tears. So grieve, but don't grieve like those who don't know the rest of this story."
Okay, so I know that was a lot...but I just really loved it. I love hearing that Jesus cried. And He didn't just cry...He wept. There was a "tsunami of sorrow" and a "monsoon of tears". Wow. That's a lot of tears flowing. How...encouraging? No, that's not the right word. How...humanizing? Maybe. It's just good to know that grieving is okay. And that crying doesn't mean that we don't trust God. I think a lot of times when I'm upset and feel like crying, I tell myself not to because it's showing that I don't trust that God will take care of it. That's only half true though. If I just cried for days and days and weeks and months...that would be an entirely different story. That would probably show that I didn't trust God. I don't think that's what Lucado is talking about here, though. Lucado is saying that grieving is not only a part of moving on, but it is a part of understanding Jesus' character. We are made in the image and likeness of Him, afterall. And He cried. So we can cry too. Just not "like those who don't know the rest of this story". :)
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