Hope in the House of Death

Hope in the House of Death

John 11:1-44

“Hope is the word which the finger of God has inscribed upon the brow of every man.” Victor Hugo wrote those words in his classic work Les Misérables, one of the greatest stories of redemption ever written. It is the story of Jean Valjean and his journey from hatred and despair to mercy and hope. Hugo understood something that every human being eventually discovers: we cannot live without hope.

As Hugo gave hope to the world with his pen, my mother instilled hope to me through her pen. My mom has always loved to write notes. I had notes in my lunch box when I was in elementary school, I had notes written to me before every HS football game I played, I had her notes at every major event in my life. Those notes anchored hope in me. My mom believed in me. She encouraged me. She was my biggest fan. Even in moments where I doubted myself, she kept speaking encouragement, and confidence into my life. There is something powerful about having someone look at you and say, “Keep going. Don’t give up. I believe God can work in your life.” 

That rock solid belief in me gave me hope. What I saw in my mother for me, I now witness in my wife for my kids. Moms have a unique ability to impart hope and courage to their children. Many mothers in this room have done the same thing for years. Quietly encouraging. Quietly praying. Quietly carrying burdens and continuing to hope for their children even when things were difficult. Because little humans and grown adults need hope. And moms sense this better than most. 

What we need in the midst of pain and loss and suffering and sorrow is hope. We need something steady enough to hold us when everything around us feels uncertain. We need more than optimism. We need real living hope.

And yet the word “hope” has become weak in our culture. We say things like, “I hope things work out,” or “I hope this gets better,” and what we usually mean is little more than wishful thinking. But biblical hope is not wishful thinking. Biblical hope is a rock-solid assurance rooted in the promises of God and the person of Jesus Christ. God wants to give you that kind of hope. He wants to enter into your pain and your agony. He wants to enter into your suffering and your sorrow. He wants to give you hope in the midst of the worst this world can bring. He wants to give you hope in the face of death itself.

Beloved, many of you need God’s hope today. Some of you are carrying the quiet ache of unmet desires. You hoped life would look different by now. You hoped the marriage would come. You hoped the friendship would last. You hoped reconciliation would happen. You hoped for children. You hoped the situation at work would improve. You hoped the grief would lift sooner than it has. Disappointment has a way of wearing down hope. 

Others of you are carrying burdens for people you love. Especially on a day like Mother’s Day, there are mothers in this room carrying deep concerns for sons and daughters. Some are rejoicing today. Others are grieving today. Some are hopeful. Some are exhausted. Some are praying prayers they have prayed for years. And that is what makes John 11 such a deeply human chapter. Because John 11 is not written from the mountaintop. It is written in the middle of tears, confusion, delay, disappointment, and death. It is written for people whose hopes feel strained and whose hearts feel heavy. It is written for people asking hard questions and trying to understand what God is doing in the middle of suffering.

Hope Delayed (John 11:1–16)

  Our church has been walking through the Gospel of John together, and John tells us exactly why he wrote this Gospel:

“That you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.”

John organizes his Gospel around 7 signs and  7 “I Am” statements. Jesus does not merely give people words to hear. He gives them works to see. He openly displays the power of God so that people might believe. And in John 11 we come to the final and greatest sign before Jesus’ death and resurrection. John 11:1-6

“Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. It was Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent to him, saying, ‘Lord, he whom you love is ill.’ But when Jesus heard it he said, ‘This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.’ Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.” (John 11:1–6)

Immediately we are brought into a home filled with anxiety and fear. Lazarus is not mildly sick. He is sick to the point of death. Mary and Martha send word to Jesus saying, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.”

Their appeal is deeply personal. “The one whom you love.” And John reinforces it again in verse 5: “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.” Jesus loved this family deeply. These were dear friends. And yet Lazarus still became sick. John wants us to hold those truths together. Jesus loved them, and still suffering entered their home. They found themselves sitting beside the bed of a dying brother. We quietly assume that if God truly loves us, suffering wouldn’t be there. We assume love should protect us from pain, disappointment, or loss. 

But John 11 will not allow us to believe that. Some of you are living inside that tension right now. You love the Lord, yet you are suffering. Mary and Martha knew that feeling. They loved and knew Jesus loved them, and yet, suffering came knocking. And Jesus does something surprising, verse 6,

“So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.”

Jesus loved them, so He waited. At first glance it almost feels cruel. If someone we love is suffering, we move quickly. We rush to them. But Jesus delays intentionally. He allows the situation to worsen. He allows the sickness to progress. He allows hope to begin slipping through their fingers. Proverbs says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” And many people know exactly what that feels like. We can endure pain for a little while if we believe relief is coming quickly. But when the waiting stretches on and the answers do not come, the heart grows weary. Yet Jesus is not absent in the delay. He explains what Mary and Martha cannot yet see:

“This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

Jesus is doing something larger than immediate relief. He is revealing glory through suffering. 

And honestly, one of the hardest realities of the Christian life is that God often does His deepest work in seasons we least understand. The disciples struggle to understand this too. Listen to verses 7–16:

“Then after this he said to the disciples, ‘Let us go to Judea again.’ The disciples said to him, ‘Rabbi, the Jews were just now seeking to stone you, and are you going there again?’ Jesus answered, ‘Are there not twelve hours in the day? If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if anyone walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.’ After saying these things, he said to them, ‘Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awaken him.’The disciples said to him, ‘Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will recover.’ Now Jesus had spoken of his death, but they thought that he meant taking rest in sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, ‘Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.’ So Thomas, called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him.’” (John 11:7–16)

When Jesus tells them, “Let us go to Judea again,” they immediately protest: “Rabbi, the Jews were just now seeking to stone you, and are you going there again?” In other words, “This is too dangerous. Why would we walk back into that?”

Beloved, Jesus moves toward our suffering, not away from it. He willingly walks back into danger for the sake of those He loves. And church family, that is not only what Jesus does, but what He shapes His people to do.

The world avoids inconvenience and retreats from difficulty. Christians move toward hurting people. We move toward grief. We move toward hard situations. We move toward struggling families, lonely people, broken marriages, suffering saints, and difficult conversations.

And honestly, I have seen that repeatedly in this church family. Even this past week, several dear saints spent hours in the hospital so one of our seniors would not be alone. One sister testified how our church provided meals for months following a miscarriage. My heart has been overwhelmed on how this church has embodied love in suffering. For it is the love of the Lord Jesus made visible. 

Jesus had told the disciples earlier, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awaken him.” But they misunderstood Him completely. They thought Jesus meant ordinary physical sleep. They responded, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will recover.” They still do not understand what is happening. So Jesus finally speaks with direct clarity:

“Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe.”

Those words sound shocking at first. Jesus is not glad Lazarus died. He is not indifferent to suffering. We will soon watch Him weep beside the tomb. But Jesus knows that through this delay, through this grief, through this painful unraveling of earthly hope, He is about to reveal something greater than they could presently imagine. And often that is how God works in our lives too. Sometimes He allows hope to be stretched thin before teaching us where true hope is actually found.

Hope Buried (John 11:17–37)

Jesus now arrives in Bethany, but by the time He gets there the situation has moved far beyond sickness. Lazarus is dead. And not only dead, but verse 17 tells us:

“Now when Jesus came, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Bethany was near Jerusalem, about two miles off, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them concerning their brother.” (John 11:17–19)

Four days. The funeral has already happened. The mourners have already gathered. The house is filled with grief. The tomb has already been sealed. Humanly speaking, the situation is beyond recovery.

John tells us that many had come from Jerusalem to console the sisters. The house is full of tears, full of questions, full of the heavy silence that settles over a home after death enters it.

Then Martha hears that Jesus has arrived.

“So when Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, but Mary remained seated in the house. Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’” (John 11:20–21)

You can almost feel Martha’s urgency. She immediately gets up and goes out to meet Him. And when she sees Jesus, everything she has been carrying comes pouring out:

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Those words are filled with both faith and disappointment. Martha believes Jesus could have healed Lazarus. She has seen His power. She knows what He can do. But underneath her words there is pain. “Lord, where were you? Why did you wait? And if we are honest, many believers have prayed prayers that sound very similar. “Lord, if You had intervened sooner…”  “Lord, if You had answered earlier…” “Lord, if You had stopped this…”  “Lord, if You had been here…” Sometimes suffering leaves us trying to reconcile what we know about Jesus with what we are experiencing in life. 

Martha believes in Jesus, but her hope has reached its limit. In her mind, Jesus could help before death came, but now, for her, the situation has moved beyond hope. Yet even in her confusion, there is still a small reach toward faith.

“But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.” (John 11:22)

Martha has a fragile faith. She believes Jesus can do something, but she does not yet understand the fullness of who stands before her. Jesus responds:

“‘Your brother will rise again.’ Martha said to him, ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’” (John 11:23–24)

Martha believes in the future resurrection. She believes God will one day raise the dead. Resurrection is a doctrine for the future, not a reality she expects to encounter today.

And this is where Jesus takes the entire conversation and turns it directly toward Himself.

“Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?’” (John 11:25–26)

Jesus does not merely say He gives resurrection. He says He is the resurrection. Hope is no longer merely an event in the future or a doctrine to discuss. Hope is standing in front of Martha speaking to her face to face. Jesus is moving Martha from general religious belief to personal trust in Him.

Many people who think Christianity is primarily about rules, morality, and behavior modification. They think Christianity is mostly about do’s and don’ts, religious routines, and trying to become a better person. Christianity certainly changes how we live, but Christianity is not ultimately about rules. Christianity is about a person. It is about the Son of God coming into the world to rescue hopeless sinners and give them life. Jesus does not merely offer hope. Jesus is hope.

The Bible says that apart from Christ humanity is without hope. Ephesians 2 says people apart from Christ are “without hope and without God in the world.” That means people can have careers and still have no hope. They can have money and still have no hope. They can have success and still have no hope. They can smile publicly while privately collapsing under the weight of fear, guilt, emptiness, and death.

The Bible says God created the world good. Human beings were made in His image to know Him, walk with Him, and enjoy Him. But humanity rebelled against God. Sin entered the world, and with sin came death. Human beings were not created for graves. Death exists because sin exists. And the problem is not merely physical death. Sin brings spiritual death too. It separates us from God. The Bible says that apart from Christ we are spiritually dead in our trespasses and sins. That is why no amount of success, morality, religion, or self-improvement can save us. Left to ourselves, we are spiritually buried.

But the good news of Christianity is that God did not leave hopeless sinners alone. Jesus Christ came from the Father into the world to rescue us. He lived the perfect life we could never live. He obeyed the Father completely. Though He was sinless, He went to the cross and was treated as guilty in the place of sinners. He bore judgment so that all who repent and believe in Him could be forgiven and reconciled to God. And then three days later, He rose from the dead.

John 11 points us toward the greater resurrection still to come, when Jesus Himself will walk out of the grave. He will conquer sin and death. And because He lives, hope is no longer fragile for 1 Peter 1:3

“According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”

A living hope rooted in a living Savior.

And honestly, sometimes losing hope in everything else is what finally leads us to true hope. Sometimes God allows lesser hopes to collapse so we will finally discover what remains. Health fades. Money disappoints. Relationships break. Careers fail. And in those moments we begin realizing that our only lasting hope is not an idea or a circumstance, but the person and work of Jesus Christ.

Jesus asks Martha the question that now hangs over every person reading this chapter: “Do you believe this?” Not merely: Do you understand this? But: Do you believe?  And Martha responds:

“Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.”

Her understanding is not yet complete. She still does not fully grasp what Jesus is about to do. But her faith is resting in the right person. And that is where true hope always begins. After Martha confesses her faith in Christ, she returns home to get Mary.

“When she had said this, she went and called her sister Mary, saying in private, ‘The Teacher is here and is calling for you.’ And when she heard it, she rose quickly and went to him.” (John 11:28–29)

There is something tender in those words: “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And church family, that is still what Jesus does. In the middle of grief and confusion and disappointment, He still calls people to Himself.

Mary immediately rises and goes to Jesus. John tells us that Jesus had not yet entered the village, so the mourners followed Mary, assuming she was going to the tomb to weep.

“Now Jesus had not yet come into the village, but was still in the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary rise quickly and go out, they followed her, supposing that she was going to the tomb to weep there.”  Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’” ((John 11:30–32)

Those are the exact same words Martha spoke earlier:

“Lord, if you had been here…”

You can feel the sorrow underneath them. She falls at His feet weeping. Her grief spills out in front of Jesus.

Suffering often creates repeating questions in our minds. We replay possibilities. We replay scenarios over and over again. “If only…”  “If this had happened differently…”  “If they had caught it sooner…” “If I had said something earlier…” Mary and Martha are both wrestling with the same painful reality:  “Jesus, we know you could have changed this.” And then John gives us one of the most powerful scenes in all of Scripture.

“[33] When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled.” (John 11:33)

Jesus sees the tears. He sees the sorrow. He sees the devastation death has brought into this family. Jesus “deeply moved” and “greatly troubled.” Jesus enters fully into the grief before Him. He feels the weight of it. Then He asks:

“[34] And he said, ‘Where have you laid him?’ They said to him, ‘Lord, come and see.’ [35] Jesus wept.” (John 11:34–35)

The shortest verse in the Bible may also be one of the deepest. “Jesus wept.”

Never move too quickly past those words. Jesus knows resurrection is minutes away. Jesus knows Lazarus will walk out of the grave. Jesus knows death will not have the final word here. And still He weeps. Why? Because death is terrible. Because sin has shattered the world. Because grief is real. Because suffering is painful. Christian hope does not eliminate sorrow. Christians are not called to pretend pain does not hurt. We are not called to fake emotional strength or smile our way through grief. Jesus Himself stands at a graveside and weeps.

Some of you need to hear that this morning because you quietly think your grief means your faith is weak. But tears are not the absence of faith. Jesus wept.

There are mothers grieving children, parents grieving prodigals, spouses grieving loss, and people carrying wounds nobody else fully sees. And Jesus is not distant from that grief. He is not cold toward your pain or impatient with your sorrow. He enters into it. 

And this is how the church must love one another too. Throughout this passage people mourn together, console one another, and weep together. Christianity is not lived in isolation. God forms a people who carry burdens together. One of the most beautiful things is when suffering people discover they are not alone. That is why we sit beside hospital beds, bring meals, pray together, linger with hurting people after services, and weep with those who weep.

The love of Christ becomes visible through the presence of His people. But even here, standing beside a weeping Savior, belief and unbelief exist side by side.

“So the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’ But some of them said, ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man also have kept this man from dying?’” (John 11:36–37)

Some see love. Others remain skeptical. The same Jesus. The same tears. The same moment. Yet two completely different responses.

Hope Seen (John 11:38–44)

Up to this point in the chapter, everything has felt heavy. The chapter has moved through sickness, delay, confusion, disappointment, tears, and grief. Hope has slowly unraveled in front of this family. Mary and Martha have buried their brother. Tears have been shed. Questions have been asked. Even Martha’s faith has been stretched to the breaking point. John writes:

“Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it.” (John 11:38)

Jesus walks directly toward death. The tomb stands before Him as a visible reminder of what sin has done to the world. This is not how creation was meant to be. Human beings were not created for graves. Death is an intruder. It is an enemy.

And standing before that tomb is Jesus Christ. John tells us the tomb was a cave with a stone laid against it. The scene feels heavy and final. Everyone standing there knows exactly what is behind that stone. Four days of death. Four days of decay. Four days of hopelessness.

“[39] Jesus said, ‘Take away the stone.’” (John 11:39)

And Martha immediately hesitates:

“Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, ‘Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.’” (John 11:39)

Even after everything Jesus has said, Martha still struggles to imagine what Jesus is about to do. She believes, but she still cannot fully see beyond the reality of death standing in front of her. In her mind the situation  was beyond hope.  But Jesus responds:

“[40] Jesus said to her, ‘Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?’” (John 11:40)

Jesus keeps lifting Martha’s eyes beyond the immediate situation to the glory of God. Martha keeps staring at death. Jesus keeps directing her toward glory. 

Imagine this moment. Put yourself there. The crowd stepping backward. The silence. The fear. Then John says:

“So they took away the stone.” (John 11:41)

The smell of death begins to emerge from the tomb. Then Jesus lifts His eyes and prays:

“And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, ‘Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me.’” (John 11:41–42)

Again and again throughout this chapter John keeps pressing us toward belief. Jesus is revealing who He is. Everything is moving toward this moment where people must reckon with the identity of Christ. Then comes the moment everything has been building toward:

“[43] When he had said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out.’” (John 11:43)

The same voice that spoke the universe into existence now speaks into a grave. The same voice that said, “Let there be light,” now speaks into darkness and death itself. And death obeyed. Lazarus came out.

“[44] The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth.” (John 11:44)

Try to picture it. A man dead for four days walks out of the tomb alive. The crowd that moments earlier stood weeping now stands staring in shock and awe. And then Jesus says:

“Unbind him, and let him go.”

Beloved, this is not merely a miracle to admire. It is a picture of salvation itself. The Bible says that apart from Christ we are spiritually dead in our trespasses and sins. Not just weak. Dead, blind, and bound by sin. And just like Lazarus, dead people cannot raise themselves. Lazarus contributes nothing to his resurrection. Jesus calls, and Lazarus comes forth. And that is exactly what Christ has done for every Christian in this room. Through the preaching of the gospel, through the Word of God, and through the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus called your name. He interrupted spiritual death with resurrection power. He opened blind eyes, softened hard hearts, awakened faith, and brought you from death to life.

Christian, never lose the wonder of your salvation. You were not rescued because you were wiser, stronger, or more moral than others. You were spiritually dead, and Christ gave you life. He broke chains you could not break, forgave sins you could not remove, and filled a dead heart with living hope.

And even now Jesus continues saying over His people, “Unbind him, and let him go.” He frees us from guilt, condemnation, and slavery to sin so that we can walk in newness of life. This is part of the beauty of the church. We help one another walk out resurrection life together. We encourage, disciple, pray for, and strengthen one another as we pursue holiness together.

And if you are here this morning and you are not a Christian, this passage is speaking directly to you. Apart from Christ, you may be physically alive, but spiritually you remain in the tomb. You may have success, relationships, accomplishments, and plans for the future, but none of those things can overcome death or remove sin. And one day every person will face death. The question is not whether you will die, but will you have life after death?

John 11 announces that Jesus Christ alone has authority over the grave. The One who stood outside Lazarus’s tomb is the same Christ who went to the cross for sinners, was buried, and rose again from the dead. And now He calls people everywhere to repent and believe in Him.

Friend, do not remain in the grave of unbelief. Do not cling to false hopes that cannot save you. Christ is able to forgive every sin, break every chain, and give eternal life to all who come to Him by faith. Jesus cried out, “Lazarus, come out.” And through the gospel He still calls dead sinners to life today.

Mothers spend years giving hope to their children. They encourage when a child feels defeated. They pray when others give up. They speak life when fear and discouragement begin closing in. Some of the strongest people in this room today are strong because somewhere along the way a mother kept speaking hope into them.

And church family, that is what Christians are called to carry into the world. We live in a world filled with buried hopes. People smiling publicly while privately exhausted. People terrified of death. People drowning in guilt. People chasing success, money, pleasure, and achievement hoping something will finally satisfy their souls. People who, according to Scripture, are “without hope and without God in the world.”

And into that world Jesus Christ still speaks life. He still stands before graves. He still calls dead sinners to come out. He still gives hope to hopeless people. That means we cannot stay silent. We have neighbors who need hope. Coworkers who need hope. Children who need hope. Prodigals who need hope. Mothers carrying burdens who need hope. People sitting beside us every week who need hope.

And the hope they need is not ultimately positive thinking, self-help, politics, success, or distraction. They need Christ. I have stood beside enough graves now to know something with certainty: in those moments, all the things people spend their lives chasing suddenly feel very small. Titles feel small. Money feels small. Achievements feel small. At a graveside, people are not asking who had the nicest house or the biggest retirement account. They are asking questions about eternity, hope, forgiveness, and life after death. And John 11 reminds us that the only hope strong enough to stand at a grave and not collapse is Jesus Christ.

Beloved, we have the greatest news in the world. Death does not have the final word because Jesus Christ walked out of the grave. Sin can be forgiven. Dead hearts can live again. Eternal life is available through Jesus Christ. So let us be a hopeful people. Let us be a people who pray boldly. Who evangelize urgently. Who move toward hurting people. Who carry the hope of Christ into homes, hospitals, neighborhoods, and schools. Because there is still a Savior who gives life to the spiritually dead.

And one day, for all who belong to Him, Jesus Christ will speak again, and every grave of every believer will give up its dead. The same voice that cried out, “Lazarus, come out,” will call His people home forever. And on that final day, death itself will finally be destroyed. The sorrow of this fallen world will end forever. Revelation declares, “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Every hospital room, every funeral, every miscarriage, every broken heart, every anxious night, every graveside, and every sorrow we have carried will give way to resurrection life in the presence of Christ forever. And all because Jesus Christ is the resurrection and the life. So beloved, take heart and hold fast to hope, because for all who belong to Jesus, death will never have the final word.

“Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live.”