John 11:33 - Meaning and Application

Here we see Christ’s tender sympathy with his suffering friends, and how he shared in their sorrow. It showed itself in three ways. First, he was inwardly moved and troubled in spirit. Second, he kindly asked where Lazarus had been laid. Third, he wept.

Jesus saw Mary weeping for the loss of her dear brother, and the Jews who came with her weeping for the loss of a good neighbor and friend. What a picture of this world, this valley of tears. Nature itself teaches us to weep when those we love are taken by death, and providence calls us to mourning. It is likely that Lazarus’s property passed to his sisters and greatly helped them. Yet Mary and Martha still truly wished their brother alive again, whatever they may have gained by his death.

Religion also teaches us to weep with those who weep, as these Jews wept with Mary. We are all in the body, and that should make us feel for one another. Those who truly love their friends will share both their joys and their griefs. Friendship is a sharing of affections (Job 16:5).

Here we also see the grace and compassion of the Son of God toward those in misery. In all their affliction, he is afflicted (Isaiah 63:9; Judges 10:16). When Christ saw them all in tears, he groaned in the spirit and was troubled. He allowed himself to be deeply affected, yet without sin. This may mean that he showed displeasure at their excess of grief, as in Mark 5:39, where he challenged their noisy sorrow. Or it may mean that he felt the sad condition of human life and the power of death over fallen man.

He was about to attack death and the grave with full power, and he stirred himself for that struggle. He took on the burden of our griefs so that he might more firmly deal with our misery and sorrow. Or, most naturally, this was his loving sympathy with his friends in sorrow. It was the deep stirring of compassion that God’s afflicted people long for (Isaiah 63:15). Christ did not merely look concerned. He was inwardly and sincerely moved by their condition. David’s false friends only pretended sympathy to hide their hatred (Psalm 41:6), but we must learn from Christ to love and sympathize without pretending.

It is also said that he was troubled. The wording means that he troubled himself. He had all the feelings of human nature, since he had to be like his brothers in every way, but he kept perfect control over them. His emotions never rose except when he chose to let them rise. He was never troubled unless he chose to trouble himself for a good reason. He could take up grief and lay it down again. His compassion was voluntary, as was his suffering.

His concern also appeared in his kind question about the remains of his dead friend: “Where have you laid him?” He already knew where Lazarus was laid, yet he still asked. First, he spoke as a true man, even while he was about to show divine power. He fit himself to human ways. As Augustine said, he was not ignorant, but acted as though he were. Second, he asked where the grave was so that unbelieving Jews could not claim there was some trick or agreement between him and Lazarus.

Third, he may have asked to lift the sorrow of the mourners by turning their thoughts toward something great. It was as if he were saying, “I did not come only to offer condolences and add a few useless tears to yours. I have other work to do. Lead me to the grave, and let us get on with it.” A serious focus on our work is often the best cure for sorrow that has gone too far. Fourth, this shows the special care he takes of the bodies of his saints while they lie in the grave. He knows where they are laid and will watch over them. There is a covenant not only with the dust, but also a guard over it.

Finally, this care appeared in his tears. The others did not simply tell him where the body was. They said, “Come and see,” and led him straight to the tomb, so that what he saw would move him even more deeply. As he went to the grave, as though he were following the corpse, Jesus wept (John 11:35). It is a very short verse, but it teaches many things. It shows that Jesus Christ was truly and fully man, with a human soul that could feel joy, grief, and other emotions. He gave proof of his humanity, and of his mercy as a man, before he gave this proof of his divine power.

It also shows that he was a man of sorrows and familiar with grief, as foretold (Isaiah 53:3). We never read that he laughed, but more than once we read that he wept. So he teaches us that a sorrowful life can still be lived in the love of God, and that those who sow to the Spirit must sow in tears. Tears of compassion fit Christians well and make them most like Christ. It is a comfort to sorrowing people when their friends sympathize with them, especially such a friend as the Lord Jesus.

People understood his tears in different ways. Some gave them a kind and honest meaning, which was natural enough. They said, “See how much he loved him!” They were surprised that Christ could feel such strong affection for someone who was not a close relative and with whom he had not lived near for long. Christ had spent most of his time in Galilee, far from Bethany. We should follow this example by showing love to our friends, both while they live and when they die. We should grieve for those who sleep in Jesus as people who have love, though not without hope, like the devout men who buried Stephen (Acts 8:2). Our tears do no good to the dead, but they do honor their memory.

These tears showed Christ’s special love for Lazarus. Yet he has given even clearer proof of his love for all the saints, because he died for them. When he only shed a tear over Lazarus, people said, “See how he loved him!” How much more should we say that for the one for whom he laid down his life: “See how he loved us!” No love is greater than this.

Others made a sour and unfair comment about it, as if his tears proved he could not help his friend (John 11:37). They said, “Could not this man, who opened the eyes of the blind, have kept Lazarus from dying?” They were quietly suggesting two things. First, they thought that since Lazarus’ death caused Jesus such grief, Jesus would have stopped it if he could. Since he did not, they were ready to say he must not have been able. People reasoned the same way when Jesus was dying, saying he could not save himself because he did not come down from the cross. They forgot that God’s power always works under God’s wisdom. He does not act only according to will, but according to the counsel of his will, and we should rest in that.

If Christ’s friends, whom he loves, die, or if his church, whom he loves, is persecuted and afflicted, we must not blame a weakness in his power or love. We should conclude that he sees a better way. Second, they hinted that maybe the earlier miracle itself was questionable. If he did not work this miracle, they thought, perhaps he had never really opened the eyes of the blind at all. At least, they hoped it showed he had only limited power and was therefore not truly divine. Christ quickly answered these whisperers by raising Lazarus from the dead, which was the greater work. He showed that he could have prevented Lazarus’ death, but chose not to, because he intended to glorify himself even more.

Christ’s approach to the grave, and the way prepared for this miracle, come next. As he came near the grave, he groaned again within himself (John 11:38). He groaned because he was troubled by the unbelief of those who spoke doubtfully of his power and blamed him for not keeping Lazarus from dying. He was grieved by the hardness of their hearts. He never groaned so much over his own pain and suffering as he did over people’s sins and foolishness, especially Jerusalem’s (Matthew 23:37).

He was also moved by the fresh cries of the mourning sisters, who likely lamented more strongly when they reached the grave. His tender heart was deeply touched by their weeping. Some also think he groaned because, to answer the wishes of his friends, he was about to bring Lazarus back into this sinful and troubled world, away from the rest he had just entered. That would be a kindness to Martha and Mary, but to Christ it was like pulling someone back out of a safe harbor and sending him into a stormy sea again. If Lazarus had been left alone, Christ would soon have gone to him in the other world. But once Lazarus was restored to life, Christ would soon leave him behind in this world.

Christ also groaned as one who felt the sad condition of human nature, which is subject to death, and from which he was about to free Lazarus. In this way he stirred himself up to call on God in the prayer he was about to make, so that he could offer it with strong crying (Hebrews 5:7). Ministers, when they are sent to raise dead souls by preaching the gospel, should feel deeply the miserable condition of those they preach and pray for. They should groan inwardly as they think about it.

The grave where Lazarus lay is then described. It was a cave, and a stone lay over it. The graves of ordinary people were likely dug like ours, but people of rank were buried in vaults, as Lazarus was, and as Jesus himself was later buried. This custom was probably kept among the Jews in imitation of the patriarchs, who buried their dead in the cave of Machpelah (Genesis 23:19). Their care for the bodies of their dead friends showed that they expected a resurrection. They thought the funeral ended when the stone was rolled to the grave, or laid over it, like the stone at the mouth of the den where Daniel was thrown (Daniel 6:17), so that no one could change the outcome. This showed that the dead are cut off from the living and have gone the way from which they will not return.

The stone was probably also a gravestone with writing on it. The Greeks called it a memorial, because it is both a reminder of the dead and a warning to the living, reminding us of what we all need to remember. The Latins called it a monument, from a word meaning “to warn,” because it gives warning.

Then orders are given to remove the stone (John 11:39). Jesus wanted the stone taken away so everyone present could see that the body was really dead in the tomb, and so there could be room for it to come out. He wanted it clear that this was a real body, not a ghost or spirit. He had some of the servants remove it so they could be witnesses by the smell of decay, showing that the man was truly dead.

This is also a good picture of a soul being raised to spiritual life. It begins when the stone is taken away, when prejudice is removed and room is made for the word to reach the heart and do its work there.

Martha objected to opening the grave: “Lord, by this time he stinks,” or has become offensive, for he has been dead four days. He was already a four-day citizen of the grave. She likely noticed the smell as they were moving the stone, and so she cried out. This shows how quickly the human body changes. Four days is a short time, yet what a great change it brings if the body is left without food, and much more if it is left without life. After about seventy-two hours, dead bodies naturally move toward decay. The Jews said that by the fourth day after death the body was so changed that one could no longer be sure it was the same person. Christ rose on the third day because he was not to see corruption.

It is harder to know exactly what Martha meant by saying this. Some think she said it from proper respect for the dead body, and that since it had begun to decay, she did not want it shown publicly. Others think she said it out of concern for Christ, afraid the smell of the body would offend him. Something very foul is compared to an open sepulchre (Psalm 5:9).

If anything had been unclean or unpleasant, Martha would not have wanted her Master near it. But Jesus was not one of those delicate people who cannot bear a bad smell. If he were, he would never have come into the human world, which sin had turned into a foul and sinful place (Psalm 14:3).

Christ’s answer also shows that Martha was speaking from unbelief and distrust. In effect, she said, “Lord, it is too late to do anything now. His body has started to decay, and this dead body cannot live again.” She gave up on her brother as beyond help and beyond hope, since no one had ever been raised after their body had begun to decay. When our strength is gone and our bones feel dry, we are ready to say, “My hope is lost.” Yet her doubtful words made the miracle more clear and more glorious. They proved that Lazarus was really dead, not in a trance. A person could fake the appearance of death, but not the smell. Her saying that it could not be done only gave greater honor to the one who did it.

Christ then gave Martha a gentle rebuke for the weakness of her faith (John 11:40): “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” That statement had not been recorded before, but it was likely spoken when she said, “Lord, I believe” (John 11:27). It is enough that it is recorded here, where it is repeated. Our Lord Jesus has given us every possible assurance that sincere faith will end in a blessed sight of God’s help and power. If we trust Christ’s word and depend on his power and faithfulness, we will see God’s glory and be glad in it.

We need to be reminded often of these sure mercies, which Christ has used to encourage us. He does not answer Martha’s words directly, or give a new promise about exactly what he will do. Instead, he tells her to hold on to what he has already said. We are quick to forget what Christ has spoken, and we need his Spirit to remind us: “Did I not tell you this, and that? Do you think he will ever take back his word?”

Then they removed the stone in obedience to Christ’s command, even though Martha had objected (John 11:41). Once Martha was settled and had set aside her objection, they went ahead. If we want to see the glory of God, we must let Christ take his own way. We must not tell him what to do, but yield to him. They removed the stone, and that was all they could do. Only Christ could give life. What human beings can do is only to prepare the way for the Lord, to make rough places smooth, and, as here, to take away the stone.

The miracle itself then followed. The people, drawn by the rolling away of the stone, gathered around the grave. They were not there to send dust to dust and earth to earth, but to see dust come out of the dust and earth come out of the earth again. Their hopes were raised, and our Lord Jesus set himself to his work.

First, he turned to his living Father in heaven, as he had called him before (John 6:17). The posture he used was meaningful. He lifted up his eyes, showing outwardly that his mind was lifted up, and showing the people around him where his power came from. This also gives us an example to follow (John 17:1). We should not mock this gesture, but the main thing required of us is to lift up our hearts to God in heaven. Prayer is the soul rising to God and turning its desires and movements heavenward. Jesus lifted his eyes as one looking above the grave where Lazarus lay, and beyond all the difficulties that came from it, so that his eyes would rest on God’s unlimited power. We should do as Abraham did, who did not focus on his own dead body or on Sarah’s barrenness. He did not dwell on those obstacles, and so he grew strong in faith and did not doubt God’s promise (Romans 4:20).

Christ’s words to God were full of confidence, fitting for him: “Father, I thank you that you have heard me.” Here he taught us by his own example. First, in prayer we should call God Father and come to him like children coming to a father, with humility and respect, yet also with holy confidence. Second, in our prayers we should praise God and, when asking for more mercy, thankfully remember his past kindnesses. Thanksgiving gives glory to God, unlike the Pharisee’s self-centered “God, I thank you.” Such thanks are fitting words to include in our prayers.

But here Christ’s thanksgiving also showed how fully he knew the miracle would happen, since he would do it in agreement with his Father. In effect, he was saying, “Father, I thank you that in this matter your will and mine are the same, as always.” Elijah and Elisha raised the dead as servants, by asking. Christ raised the dead as a Son, by authority. He had life in himself, and power to give life to whom he pleased. He spoke of this as his own action, saying, “I go so that I may wake him” (John 11:11). Yet he also spoke of it as something he had obtained by prayer, because his Father had heard him. It is likely he offered this prayer when he groaned in spirit twice before (John 11:33, John 11:38), in a silent prayer with groanings that could not be spoken.

Christ speaks of this miracle as an answer to prayer for two reasons. First, he wanted to humble himself. Though he was a Son, he learned obedience by asking and receiving. His mediatorial crown, meaning his authority as the one who stands between God and people, was given to him in response to request, even though it rightly belonged to him (Psalm 2:8; John 17:5). He prayed for the glory he had before the world began, although he had never lost it and could have claimed it by right. Second, he was pleased to honor prayer, making it the key that opened even the treasures of God’s power and grace. In this way he teaches us to enter into God’s presence through prayer, using lively faith as we come into the holy place.

Then, being sure that his prayer was answered, Christ expressed his thankful acceptance of that answer: “I thank you that you have heard me.” The miracle had not yet happened, but the prayer was already answered, and he celebrated before the victory. No one else can claim such certainty as Christ had. Still, by faith in God’s promise, we too may look ahead to mercy before it arrives, rejoice in that hope, and thank God for it. In David’s prayers, the same psalm that begins with a request for mercy often ends with thanksgiving for it. Mercies given in answer to prayer should be specially remembered with gratitude. Beyond the gift itself, we should count it a great kindness that God noticed our poor prayers at all. And when we see the first signs that prayer is being answered, we should meet them with early thanks.

As God answers us with mercy, even before we call and while we are still speaking, so we should answer him with praise even before he grants our request. We should thank him while he is still speaking good and comforting words.

Christ also showed calm confidence that the Father would answer him at any time (John 11:42): “I know that you hear me always.” No one should think this was a special favor he had only for this one moment, and would never have again. He had the same divine power with him throughout his whole work, and he did nothing except what he knew agreed with God’s will. “I gave thanks,” he says, “for being heard in this matter, because I am sure to be heard in all things.”

Notice here the honor our Lord Jesus had in heaven. The Father heard him always. He had access to the Father on every occasion, and he always succeeded in what he brought before him. We can be sure that his standing with the Father is no less now that he has gone to heaven. That should encourage us to depend on his intercession, his speaking to the Father for us, and to place all our prayers in his hands, because the Father always hears him.

Notice also the confidence he had in that standing. “I knew it,” he says. He did not hesitate or doubt at all. He was fully satisfied in his mind that the Father took pleasure in him and worked with him in everything. We cannot have that same personal certainty that he had. But we do know this, that whatever we ask according to his will, he hears us (1 John 5:14, 1 John 5:15).

Why did Christ make this public statement before he worked the miracle? He says it was for the sake of the people standing by, so that they might believe that the Father had sent him. Prayer can preach.

First, it answered the objections and slanders of his enemies. The Pharisees and their followers wickedly claimed that he worked miracles by an agreement with the devil. To show the opposite, he openly addressed God. He used prayer, not magic charms, and not the secret muttering of people who dealt with evil spirits (Isaiah 8:19). He lifted his eyes and voice in public, showing his connection with heaven and his dependence on heaven.

Second, it strengthened the faith of those who were well disposed toward him, so that they might believe that the Father had sent him, not to destroy people’s lives, but to save them. Moses showed that God had sent him by making the earth open and swallow men up (Numbers 16:31). Elijah showed that God had sent him by calling down fire from heaven to consume men. The law was a way of fear and death, but Christ proved his mission by raising a dead man to life.

Some take this to mean that if Christ had said plainly that he did it by his own power, some weak disciples, who did not yet understand his divine nature, would have thought he was claiming too much and might have been offended. These little ones could not yet handle that strong teaching, so he spoke of his power as received and given to him. He spoke in a humble way about himself so that he might speak more clearly to us. “He did not so much consider his own dignity as our salvation,” as Jansenius says.

He then turned to his dead friend in the tomb. He cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth.”

He could have raised Lazarus by a silent act of power, through the unseen work of the Spirit of life. Instead, he called him with a loud voice. This showed the power now at work in raising Lazarus, how he was bringing a new thing into being. He spoke, and it was done. He cried aloud to show how great the work was and how great the power was that did it. It was also as if he were rousing himself to attack the gates of death, like soldiers who shout as they go into battle.

It was fitting to cry out when speaking to Lazarus. First, Lazarus’s soul, which was to be called back, was far away. It was not, as the Jews imagined, hovering near the grave, but had gone to Hades, the world of spirits. It is natural to speak loudly when calling to someone at a distance. Second, Lazarus’s body, which was to be raised up, was like one asleep, and we usually speak loudly when we want to wake someone.

He cried with a loud voice so that Scripture might be fulfilled (Isaiah 45:19): “I have not spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth.” It also pointed forward to other works of wonder, especially the other resurrections Christ would bring about. This loud call was a picture of the gospel call, by which dead souls are brought out of the grave of sin. Christ had already spoken of that resurrection (John 5:25), and of his word as the means of it (John 6:63), and now he gives a sample of it.

By his word he says to souls, “Live,” yes, he says to them, “Live” (Ezekiel 16:6). “Arise from the dead” (Ephesians 5:14). The Spirit of life from God entered the dry bones when Ezekiel prophesied over them (Ezekiel 37:10). People who use the commands of the word, to turn and live, to prove that man has power on his own to convert and renew himself might just as well use this call to Lazarus to prove that Lazarus had power to raise himself.

It also points to the sound of the archangel’s trumpet at the last day, when those who sleep in the dust will be awakened and brought before the great judgment seat. Then Christ will descend with a shout, a command like this one: “Come forth” (Psalm 50:4). He will call to the heavens for their souls and to the earth for their bodies, so that he may judge his people.

This loud call was brief, yet it was mighty through God to break down the strong walls of the grave. He called Lazarus by name, “Lazarus,” as we call by name those we want to wake from deep sleep. God said to Moses, as a sign of favor, “I know you by name.” Naming him shows that the same person who died will rise again at the last day. The one who calls the stars by name can also distinguish, by name, his stars that lie in the dust of the earth, and he will lose none of them.

He called Lazarus out of the grave, speaking to him as if he were already alive and only needed to come out. He did not say, “Live,” because he himself must give life. He said, in effect, “Move,” for when we live spiritually by Christ’s grace, we must stir ourselves to move. The grave of sin and this world is no place for those whom Christ has made alive, so they must come forth.

The result was exactly what he intended: “He who was dead came out” (John 11:44). Power went with Christ’s word to bring Lazarus’s soul and body together again, and then he came forth. The miracle is not described by its hidden cause, to satisfy our curiosity, but by its visible result, to strengthen our faith.

Do some ask where Lazarus’s soul was during the four days after death? Scripture does not tell us. Yet there is good reason to think it was in paradise, in joy and blessing. You may ask whether it was unkind to bring him back into the body, which can feel like a prison. But if it was, it was still no injury to him, because it was done for Christ’s honor and for the good of his kingdom, just as it was no loss to Paul to remain in the flesh when he knew that to depart and be with Christ was far better.

If anyone asks whether Lazarus, after being raised, could describe what happened when his soul left and returned to his body, or tell what he saw in the other world, the likely answer is that both changes were beyond his own understanding. He would have had to say, with Paul, that he could not tell whether he was in the body or out of it, and that what he saw and heard was not lawful or possible to speak about. In this world of the senses, we cannot form clear ideas of the world of spirits, much less pass them on to others. So let us not try to be wiser than what is written. All that Scripture says about Lazarus’s resurrection is this: the dead man came out.

Some have noted that although Scripture speaks of many people who were raised from the dead, and who no doubt lived among others afterward, it does not record a single word spoken by any of them, except by the Lord Jesus himself. This miracle was done quickly. Nothing came between Christ’s command, “Come forth,” and the result. It was spoken and done at once. So it will be in the resurrection, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye (1 Corinthians 15:52). The Almighty can do it instantly. Then you will call, and God will answer, as Lazarus answered the call, “Here I am.”

It was done perfectly as well. Lazarus was so fully restored that he rose out of the grave as firmly as he had once risen from his bed. He was not raised only for a short purpose, but to live again as other men live. Some also count it as part of the miracle that he came out still wrapped in his grave-clothes, bound hand and foot, with his face covered by a cloth, as was the Jewish burial custom. He came out in the same burial clothes, so everyone could see that it was truly him, not another man, and that he was not only alive but strong enough to move, even with those grave-clothes on.

The face covering also proved that he had truly been dead, because otherwise it would have smothered him in less than four days. And when the bystanders unwrapped him, they would handle him and see that it was really Lazarus, and so become witnesses of the miracle. Here we learn how little we carry away when we leave this world, only a winding sheet and a coffin. There is no change of clothes in the grave, only one set of grave-clothes. We also learn what condition we will be in there. What wisdom can there be where the eyes are covered, or what work can be done where the hands and feet are tied? So it will be in the grave, where we are all going.

When Lazarus came out, still tangled in his grave-clothes, those at the tomb were surely amazed and frightened. We would be too if we saw a dead body rise. But Christ, to make the wonder more familiar, gave them work to do: “Loose him.” Take off his grave-clothes so they can serve as day-clothes until he reaches home. Then he will go there on his own, dressed that way, without a guide or helper. As Enoch and Elijah in the Old Testament gave clear signs of an unseen and future life, one in the patriarchs’ time and the other in Moses’ time, so Lazarus’s resurrection in the New Testament was meant to confirm the teaching of the resurrection.