Read John 11:38-44 (The Raising of Lazarus)
It’s not a Christmas story, is it? The story of Lazarus doesn’t mention a star in the East, or shepherds, wise men, or even angels praising God. In fact, it’s not a story of birth at all. Jesus is standing outside of the tomb of his friend, in grief.
We know the rest of the story, but for a moment, let’s pause in this spot, standing outside of the tomb of a friend who has died. Jesus could hear the mocking of the crowd and the grief of those he probably considered family. He would have smelled the decay of death. He knew his own pain and the pain of those closest to him. He wept.
Dr. Robert Jordon, pastor of Dundee Presbyterian Church in Omaha, Nebraska, wrote that as Jesus stood outside the tomb of Lazarus, he stood in the space between grief and miracles. If we read the passage closely, we might be surprised as what Jesus does. He gives thanks. To Jesus, the space between grief and a miracle was the place for gratitude.
Perhaps this is a Christmas story after all. In the beginning of Advent, as we stand near the miracle of the birth of God into the world, we also stand in the land of grief. For some, it is the hot pain of recent loss, when Christmas is seen only through tears; for others, Christmas will be a time of waves of grief, arriving at unexpected moments, surprising them with sudden intensity. We all stand in the land between grief and miracles.
It is the place for gratitude.
As I read through the list of devotional writers for this past year, I am struck by the number of them who lost family members in 2009. I thank God for the impact those family members had on their lives, and I know you join with me in holding these people and their families up in your prayers:
Marv Jones, Debbie McGinnis, Steve Matthews, Bob Matthews,
Jenny Matthews, Grant Matthews, Jeff Taylor , Mary Taylor, Judith Wilburn
(Forgive me if you are a devotional writer who has had a family member die this year and you are not listed above; the omission is completely my fault.)
One of our devotional writers died this past year. Floyd Taylor, whose name you may or may not recognize, was not a member of Johnson Memorial, but he often wrote for our ministry. I can remember only one time when he wrote using his own name; however, some of the anonymous devotionals published over the years were his work.
I also thank God for you as you read this devotional, and for those whose death you may be grieving through this time of miracles.
The birth of Jesus was the birth of hope into our lives. We have the certainty of the hope of resurrection and the blessing of the love of God through the presence of his church.
Because he lives, so do we.
Kim Matthews
It’s not a Christmas story, is it? The story of Lazarus doesn’t mention a star in the East, or shepherds, wise men, or even angels praising God. In fact, it’s not a story of birth at all. Jesus is standing outside of the tomb of his friend, in grief.
We know the rest of the story, but for a moment, let’s pause in this spot, standing outside of the tomb of a friend who has died. Jesus could hear the mocking of the crowd and the grief of those he probably considered family. He would have smelled the decay of death. He knew his own pain and the pain of those closest to him. He wept.
Dr. Robert Jordon, pastor of Dundee Presbyterian Church in Omaha, Nebraska, wrote that as Jesus stood outside the tomb of Lazarus, he stood in the space between grief and miracles. If we read the passage closely, we might be surprised as what Jesus does. He gives thanks. To Jesus, the space between grief and a miracle was the place for gratitude.
Perhaps this is a Christmas story after all. In the beginning of Advent, as we stand near the miracle of the birth of God into the world, we also stand in the land of grief. For some, it is the hot pain of recent loss, when Christmas is seen only through tears; for others, Christmas will be a time of waves of grief, arriving at unexpected moments, surprising them with sudden intensity. We all stand in the land between grief and miracles.
It is the place for gratitude.
As I read through the list of devotional writers for this past year, I am struck by the number of them who lost family members in 2009. I thank God for the impact those family members had on their lives, and I know you join with me in holding these people and their families up in your prayers:
Jenny Matthews, Grant Matthews, Jeff Taylor , Mary Taylor, Judith Wilburn
(Forgive me if you are a devotional writer who has had a family member die this year and you are not listed above; the omission is completely my fault.)
One of our devotional writers died this past year. Floyd Taylor, whose name you may or may not recognize, was not a member of Johnson Memorial, but he often wrote for our ministry. I can remember only one time when he wrote using his own name; however, some of the anonymous devotionals published over the years were his work.
I also thank God for you as you read this devotional, and for those whose death you may be grieving through this time of miracles.
The birth of Jesus was the birth of hope into our lives. We have the certainty of the hope of resurrection and the blessing of the love of God through the presence of his church.
Because he lives, so do we.
Kim Matthews
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