John 11:1 - Meaning and Application

These verses give us a clear account of the people at the center of this story, in John 11:1-2. They lived in Bethany, a village not far from Jerusalem, where Jesus often stayed when he came up for the feasts. It is called the town of Mary and Martha because they lived there, just as Bethsaida is called the city of Andrew and Peter (John 1:44). There is no reason to think Mary and Martha owned the whole town, as some have imagined.

There was also a brother named Lazarus. His Hebrew name was likely Eleazar, which was shortened and given a Greek ending to become Lazarus. It may be that Jesus used the name Lazarus in the parable where he showed the blessedness, or joy, of the righteous in Abraham’s bosom right after death (Luke 16:22). Martha and Mary seem to have managed the household, while Lazarus may have lived more quietly, perhaps given to study and reflection. This was a well-ordered and peaceful family, and one Jesus spent much time with, though there is no mention of a husband or wife.

One sister is especially identified as the Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment, in John 11:2. Some think this is the sinful woman in Luke 7:37-38, but it is more likely the anointing John later records in John 12:3. The Gospel writers do not often refer back and forth to one another, but John often points from one place in his own Gospel to another. Acts of devotion that come from sincere love for Christ will be accepted by him and remembered in the church (Matthew 26:13).

This was the family whose brother Lazarus became sick, and the sickness of those we love brings us sorrow. The more friends we have, the more often we feel this kind of pain through sympathy. The closer they are to us, the deeper the grief. When our comforts increase, our cares and troubles often increase with them too.

When Lazarus became sick, his sisters sent word to Jesus, who was far away beyond the Jordan, in John 11:3. They showed both love for their brother and respect for the Lord. Though Lazarus’s property may have passed to them after his death, they still wanted him to live, as they should have. They cared for him in his sickness, for a brother is born for adversity, and so is a sister too.

They also showed that they wanted to bring all their concerns to Jesus. Even though God already knows our needs, griefs, and worries, he is honored when we bring them to him ourselves. Their message was very short, but full of faith: “Lord, behold, he whom you love is sick.” They did not say, “he whom we love,” but “he whom you love.” Our best encouragement in prayer comes from God himself and from his grace. They did not say, “he who loves you,” but “he whom you love,” for God’s love to us is the great ground of hope.

There are some friends and followers of Jesus for whom he has a special kindness above others. Among the twelve, there was one whom Jesus loved. It is no new thing for those Christ loves to become sick, because this world treats all people alike in that way. Bodily illness can correct sin in God’s people and test their faith. It is a great comfort to have people around us who will pray for us when we are sick. And we have strong reason to pray for the sick when we have good ground to believe Christ loves them and cares for them.

Christ received this news and told what would happen from it, likely sending this message back to Lazarus’s sisters through the messenger, so they would be supported while he delayed coming. He said two things. First, “This sickness will not end in death.” It was a real sickness, and Lazarus did die, staying dead for four days. Yet that was not the purpose of the sickness. It was not sent merely as a call to the grave, because Christ had a greater purpose in it.

In another sense, it was not unto death, because death was not its final outcome. Lazarus did die, yet he did not remain dead. Death is an everlasting leave-taking from this world, a way from which we do not return in the normal course of life. In that sense, this sickness was not unto death. So Christ also said of the girl he would raise, “She is not dead.” The sickness of God’s people, no matter how serious it looks, is not unto eternal death. The body’s death to this world is the soul’s entry into another world.

When we or our friends are sick, we naturally hope for recovery, but that hope can fail us. So it is wiser to rest on what cannot fail: if they belong to Christ, even if the worst happens, they cannot be harmed by the second death, and then the first death cannot truly hurt them either. Second, Jesus said this sickness was “for the glory of God,” so that God’s power could be shown. The troubles of God’s people are often meant to bring glory to God, because they give him a chance to show mercy. Some of the sweetest mercies come through distress.

This should help us accept hard providences, meaning God’s wise rule over events we do not understand. Sickness, loss, and disappointment can all serve God’s glory, and if God is glorified, we should be content, as in Leviticus 10:3. It was for God’s glory, because it would also glorify the Son of God when he raised Lazarus from the dead. Just as the man was born blind so Christ could be honored in healing him (John 9:3), so Lazarus must be sick and die so that Christ could be shown as the Lord of life.

Let this comfort those whom Christ loves, under all their troubles. The purpose of every affliction is that the Son of God may be glorified through it, especially in how he supports and strengthens his people. His wisdom, power, and goodness are all shown in the way he helps and rescues them, as in (2 Corinthians 12:9, 2 Corinthians 12:10).

He stayed away from Bethany for a time, even though he loved his friends there, as shown in (John 11:5, John 11:6). They had pleaded, “Lord, he is the one you love,” and that plea was true, for Jesus loved Martha, her sister Mary, and Lazarus. In this way, the prayers of faith are confirmed in heaven.

We might expect that when he heard Lazarus was sick, he would hurry at once to him. If he loved them, this seemed like the right time to prove it by going quickly, since he knew they were waiting for him. But he showed his love in the opposite way: it was not said that he loved them and yet delayed, but that he loved them and therefore delayed. When he heard that his friend was sick, he stayed two more days in the same place.

He loved them, that is, he had a high view of Martha and Mary. He saw their wisdom, grace, faith, and patience, and he valued them above many others among his disciples. So he delayed, that their faith might be tested and, in the end, brought out as praise and honor. He also loved them because he planned to do something greater for them, something remarkable that he had not done for any other friend. By waiting, he allowed Lazarus to die and be buried before he came.

If Christ had gone at once and healed Lazarus, he would have done only what he had done for many others. If he had raised him when he had just died, that would still have been like what he had done for some. But by waiting so long, he had a chance to do more for him than for anyone else. God often has gracious purposes even in delays that only seem harsh (Isaiah 54:7, Isaiah 54:8; Isaiah 49:14). Christ’s friends in Bethany were not forgotten, even though he did not rush to them when he heard of their trouble.

When deliverance, whether physical or spiritual, public or personal, seems to stop, it is only waiting for the right time. Everything is beautiful in its season. Christ then spoke with his disciples as he prepared to go to Bethany, in (John 11:7-16). His words were so open and friendly that they match what he said, “I have called you friends.”

He spoke about two things, his own danger and Lazarus’s death. First, he spoke about the danger he would face in going into Judea, near Jerusalem, in (John 11:7-10). He told his disciples, who were his close companions in counsel, “Let us go into Judea again,” even though the people there were not worthy of such mercy. In this way, Christ keeps offering mercy to those who have often rejected it.

This can be seen in two ways. First, it shows his kindness to his friends in Bethany. He knew their sorrow, and he knew every painful detail of it, even though no messenger had given him a full report. He was absent in body, but present in spirit. When he saw they had come to the last point, and the brother and sisters had said their final goodbyes, he said, “Let us go into Judea.”

Christ rises to help his people when the time to show them favor has come, yes, when the set time has come. Often the darkest time is that very time, when hope is gone and we feel cut off. Then they will know that he is the Lord when he opens the graves (Ezekiel 37:11, Ezekiel 37:13). In deep trouble, this should keep us from despair. Human extremity is God’s opportunity.

Second, this was a test of the disciples’ courage, to see whether they would follow him there after they had recently been frightened by an attempt on his life, which they likely saw as a threat to their own lives too. Going back into Judea, which had become dangerous for them, tested them. But Christ did not say, “You go, and I will stay here and hide.” He said, “Let us go.” Christ never brings his people into danger without going with them. He is with them even when they walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

The disciples answered by warning him of the danger, in (John 11:8). “Master,” they said, “the Jews just tried to stone you, and you are going there again?” They reminded him of the danger he had recently faced there. Christ’s disciples often make suffering seem greater than their Master does, and they remember injuries longer. He had let the insult pass, but they had not forgotten it. It was still fresh in their minds, as if it had happened that day, though it had likely been at least two months earlier.

They were amazed that he would go back. “Will you show kindness to those who drove you out?” they seemed to ask. Christ’s way of forgiving offenses is higher than ours. “Will you place yourself among people who are so bitter against you?” they asked. They showed real concern for his safety, as Peter once did when he said, “Master, spare yourself.” If Christ had wanted to avoid suffering, he would not have lacked friends urging him to do so. But he had already committed himself to the Lord, and he would not go back.

Still, while they showed concern for his safety, they also showed two hidden fears. First, they seemed to doubt his power, as if he could not keep both himself and them safe in Judea as he had before. Has his arm been shortened? When we care about Christ’s church and kingdom, we must still trust the wisdom and power of the Lord Jesus. He knows how to keep a flock of sheep safe in the middle of wolves.

Second, they may have feared suffering themselves, since they assumed they would share his danger. When our own interests line up with the public good, we are often quick to think we are serving the Lord of hosts, when really we are mainly protecting our own money, reputation, comfort, and safety. We then seek our own things under the cover of seeking Christ’s things. So we need to examine our motives carefully.

Christ answered their objection by saying, “Are there not twelve hours in the day?” in (John 11:9, John 11:10). The Jews divided the day into twelve hours, making the hours longer or shorter depending on the season, so that an hour was one twelfth of the daylight between sunrise and sunset. Or, because they lived farther south than we do, their days were closer to twelve hours long. God’s providence has given us daylight for work and makes it last long enough for our tasks, and over the whole year every country has as much daylight as darkness, with twilight making up the rest.

Human life is like a single day. God has divided that day into different ages, stages, and opportunities, just as he appoints longer and shorter hours. Thinking about this should make us very busy with the work of life, because if there were twelve hours in the day, each one should be filled with duty, not wasted. It should also make us calm about the dangers of life, because our day will last until our work is done and our witness is complete.

Christ applies this to himself and shows why he must go to Judea, because he had a clear call to go. First, he shows the comfort a person has in his own mind while he stays in the path of duty, as God’s word lays it out and God’s providence directs it. If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, meaning that if a person stays close to his duty and keeps God’s will before him as his rule, he will not be confused in his own mind. Walking uprightly, he walks safely and with holy confidence.

Just as a person walking in daylight does not stumble because he can see the road, so a good person trusts God’s word as his guide and seeks God’s glory as his goal. He keeps his eye on those two great lights, and so he has a sure guide in every doubt and a strong guard in every danger (Galatians 6:4; Psalm 119:6). Christ, wherever he went, walked in the day, and so will we if we follow his steps.

Christ also shows the pain and danger of walking without this rule. If a person walks in the night, he stumbles. That is, if he follows his own desires, what he sees, and the ways of this world, and gives more weight to his own fleshly reasoning than to God’s will and glory, he falls into traps and trouble. He becomes uneasy and afraid, frightened by things that should not frighten him, while an upright person stands firm in danger. He stumbles because there is no light in him, meaning he has no good inward principle and is not sincere.

So Christ not only defends his decision to go into Judea, but also encourages his disciples to go with him and fear no evil. Then the death of Lazarus is discussed between Christ and his disciples (John 11:11-16). After preparing them for this dangerous trip into enemy territory, he tells them plainly that Lazarus has died, even though he had not received any report about it. He says, “Our friend Lazarus sleeps.” This shows how Christ speaks of a believer and a believer’s death.

First, he calls a believer his friend, “Our friend Lazarus.” There is a covenant of friendship between Christ and believers, and he gladly owns that loving bond. What is hidden with the righteous is known to him. Those whom Christ calls his friends, all his disciples should also count as their own friends. Christ speaks of Lazarus as a shared friend, “Our friend.” Death itself does not break the bond between Christ and a believer. Lazarus is dead, yet he is still our friend.

Second, Christ calls a believer’s death sleep: “He sleeps.” It is wise to use names for death that make it seem more familiar and less frightening. Lazarus’s death was, in a special sense, like sleep, as with Jairus’s daughter, because he was soon to be raised again. Since we know we will rise at last, why should that make such a difference? And why should not the sure hope of rising to eternal life make it as easy to leave the body and die as it is to take off our clothes and go to sleep?

When a good Christian dies, he only sleeps. He rests from the work of the day and is refreshed for the next morning. In one way, death is even better than sleep, because sleep is only a pause, but death ends our cares and labors. The soul does not sleep, but becomes more active. The body sleeps without tossing or terror, without sickness or disturbance. To the wicked, the grave is like a prison, and its grave clothes are like the chains of a criminal waiting for execution. But to the godly, it is a bed, and its bands are like soft, downy ties in a peaceful sleep.

Though the body decays, it will rise in the morning as if it had never seen decay. It is only putting off clothes so they can be made new and fit for the wedding day, the coronation day, when we must rise. See (Isaiah 57:2; 1 Thessalonians 4:14). The Greeks called burial places dormitories, places of sleep.

Christ also gives a loving hint about what he means to do for Lazarus: “I go, that I may awaken him out of sleep.” He could have done it without leaving where he was, since he had once healed a dying man from a distance (John 4:50) and could also have raised a dead man from a distance. But he chose to give honor to the miracle by doing it at the grave side: “I go, to awaken him.” Just as sleep pictures death, so a person waking when called, especially when called by name, pictures the resurrection (Job 14:15). Christ had hardly said, “Our friend sleeps,” before he added, “I go, that I may awake him.” Whenever Christ tells his people how bad a case is, he also lets them know in the same breath how quickly and easily he can fix it.

Christ’s words also helped ease his disciples’ fear of going with him to Judea. He was not going on a public trip to the temple, but on a private visit, which would expose them less. And besides that, he was going to help a family to whom they were all indebted.

The disciples misunderstood his meaning and made a mistake about it (John 11:12-13). They said, “Lord, if he sleeps, he will do well.” This shows, first, that they cared about their friend Lazarus. They hoped he would recover, or, as the word suggests, be saved from dying at that time. Probably they had heard from the messenger who brought news of Lazarus’s illness that one of the worst signs was that he was restless and could not sleep. Now that they heard he was sleeping, they thought the fever was easing and the worst was over. Sleep is often nature’s medicine, giving new strength to the weak and weary body.

This is true of the sleep of death. If a good Christian falls asleep in death, he will be better off than he was here. There is also a greater concern for themselves in the disciples’ words. They suggest that it is needless for Christ to go to Lazarus and put himself, and them, in danger. “If he is sleeping, he will soon be well, and we can stay where we are.” We often hope that the good work we are called to do will somehow do itself, or be done by someone else, if doing it brings risk.

Their mistake is corrected in John 11:13, where Jesus was speaking about Lazarus’s death. Notice how slow Christ’s disciples still were to understand him. So we should not quickly condemn everyone as a heretic when they misunderstand one of Christ’s sayings. We should not make our brothers’ mistakes seem worse than they are. Still, this was a serious mistake, since they could have avoided it if they had remembered how often death is called sleep in the Old Testament. They should have understood Christ when he used Scripture language. Besides, it would sound strange for their Master to travel two or three days just to wake a friend from ordinary sleep, which anyone could do. What Christ takes on is always something great and unusual, a work worthy of himself.

The evangelist also carefully corrects the error: Jesus spoke of his death. Those who use unfamiliar speech or figures of speech should learn from this to explain themselves clearly, and to ask for wisdom in interpreting what they say, so mistakes can be avoided.

Jesus then speaks plainly about Lazarus’s death, and about his decision to go to Bethany, in John 11:14-15. He tells them of Lazarus’s death openly, without any figure of speech: “Lazarus is dead” (John 11:14). Christ takes notice of the death of his saints, because it is precious in his sight (Psalm 116:15). He is displeased when we do not think seriously about it. Here we see how caring Christ is as a teacher, and how he patiently helps those who misunderstand him by explaining what came before.

He also explains why he had waited so long to go. “I am glad for your sake that I was not there.” If he had been there in time, he would have healed Lazarus and kept him from dying. That would have comforted Lazarus’s friends, but the disciples would have seen no more than they had already seen many times. As a result, their faith would not have grown. Now, by raising Lazarus from the dead, many would come to believe on him who had not believed before (John 11:45), and much would also be done to complete the faith of those who already believed. That was Christ’s purpose, “that you may believe.”

Then he resolves to go to Bethany and take his disciples with him: “Let us go to him.” He does not say, “Let us go to his sisters to comfort them,” though that is the most we can do. He says, “Let us go to him,” because Christ can show wonders even to the dead. Death may separate us from all other friends and cut off all contact with them, but it cannot separate us from Christ’s love or place us beyond his call. As he keeps his covenant with the dust, so he can visit the dust. Lazarus is dead, but let us go to him. Those who had said, “If he is sleeping, there is no need to go,” may now have been ready to say, “If he is dead, going is pointless.” But Christ can still work there.

Thomas, who is called Didymus, then urges the other disciples to follow their Master boldly in John 11:16. Thomas and Didymus both mean “twin,” one in Hebrew and one in Greek. It is likely that Thomas was a twin. He said to his fellow disciples, who probably looked at one another with fear when Jesus said so firmly, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” Some understand this as meaning Lazarus. Lazarus was a dear friend of both Christ and the disciples, and Thomas may have been especially close to him. If so, Thomas means, “If he has died, let us go and die with him.” He may mean, first, “If we live, we do not know how to live without him.” Lazarus may have helped them often, sheltered them, or provided for them. Now that he is gone, they feel they have lost the one who made life easier. We often feel as if our lives are tied to the lives of those we love. But God teaches us to live, and to live well, on himself when those we depended on are gone. Still, that is not all Thomas means. Second, “If we die, we hope to be blessed with him.” He has such strong faith in life beyond death, and such good hope through grace that both they and Lazarus belong to it, that he is willing for them all to go and die with him. It is better to die and go with Christian friends to the world that gains from their presence, than to stay in a world that is poorer without them. The more of our friends are carried from here, the fewer ties we have to this earth, and the more our hearts are drawn toward heaven. Thomas speaks so naturally about dying, as if it were only undressing and going to bed.

More likely, Thomas means, “Let us go and die with our Master,” who was exposing himself to death by going into Judea. If that is what he means, then his words are brave, even if his faith was weak, as later appears (John 14:5; John 20:25). Thomas knew how angry the Jews were against Christ, and he also knew the plans of God concerning him, which Jesus had often told them about. So it was no strange guess that Jesus was going where death might meet him. Thomas shows, first, a gracious willingness to die with Christ himself, from strong love for him. Second, he shows a zealous desire to bring his fellow disciples into the same spirit: “Let us all go and die with him. If they stone him, let them stone us too. Who would want to outlive such a Master?” In hard times, Christians should strengthen one another like this. Each of us may say, “Let us die with him.” The thought of the Lord Jesus dying should make us willing to die whenever God calls us.