Jesus

The Glory of God: Lessons from Lazarus’ Resurrection

/ Richard Bargas / Leave a comment

“Jesus said, ‘Remove the stone.” Martha, the sister of the deceased, said to Him, “Lord, by this time he smells, for he has been dead four days.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Did I not say to you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?’” (John 11:39–40, LSB) 

Mary and her sister Martha must have sat together, grieving in their home as they waited for Jesus. Why was He delayed? They knew He loved them and had informed Him of Lazarus’s sickness in time for Jesus to rush in and heal their brother. What happened?

The fact that both sisters told Jesus the same thing, almost verbatim, leads me to believe they had discussed this very truth: if Jesus had been there, Lazarus would not have died (see vv. 21, 32). In fact, it seems the gathered mourners may have overheard their conversation and reached the same conclusion, but they used it as proof that Jesus was a sham (v. 37) or not powerful enough to prevent Lazarus’ sickness from leading to death.

However, instead of stopping the sickness, Jesus allowed the illness to take His friend’s life. Not only did Jesus wait long enough for the disease to do its damage, but he also missed the funeral and burial. Lazarus had been dead for four days, and in the Middle East, decomposition of bodies begins quickly. 

The question of whether Jesus could heal a sick friend was settled in the minds of Mary and Martha but remained uncertain for the watching crowd. However, Jesus didn’t want to just heal a sick man; He aimed to demonstrate that His power surpassed that of an ordinary doctor. The crowd was intrigued by a man who could supposedly heal the blind (a more complicated healing) but seemed unable to heal a sick man (a simpler task typically handled by doctors and basic medical remedies).

Christ saw and knew all of this. If He healed Lazarus, people would likely dismiss the healing. If He raised him immediately from the dead, some might argue that Lazarus hadn’t truly died. However, after four days in the tomb and being already decomposed, there could be no doubt that this was a case beyond the ability of anyone but God. A miracle was necessary.

I enjoy watches and clocks, especially the beautiful mechanical clockworks that demonstrate precision and craftsmanship. I have a few clocks on which I have performed some minor repairs, creating the wonderful “tick-tock” sound in my study that I enjoy. I’m not sure if there will be clocks in the eternal state, but I do know that God won’t be constrained by them as we are now. God’s timing doesn’t align with ours.

Mary and Martha wanted Jesus to stop death. The crowd doubted He could do it. Jesus delayed. All of these aspects often puzzle us because we tend to believe that God wants things to happen our way and in our time. But in this account, Jesus shattered that notion.

God does things in mysterious ways that I don’t understand, and probably never will. He lets disaster happen and then causes the circumstances to work out perfectly. He makes our manure work out to be fertilizer for the flowers to grow. I’d avoid the mess, but our infinitely wise God knows better.

But even more important than how everything turns out for you and me is what it teaches us about God. In verse 40, Jesus pulls back the curtain and shows us why everything needed to happen this way. He said, “Did I not say to you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” Why wait and let Lazarus die, causing such grief for these two sisters He loved? Why wait and endure all the suffering and expense of a funeral? Because God wanted to teach His children something. The lesson? “If you believe, you will see the glory of God.”

I don’t think Jesus was speaking only about the glory He would receive in that moment from bringing Lazarus back to life. I believe He was referring to the greater glory when He speaks and the dead in Christ will rise, bringing about the resurrection of all the dead (Jn 5:25-32). The brief glimpse of what He did before all those people that day was merely a sample of what is to come. On that day, all who believe will witness the glory of God in a way this world has never seen.

So, dear reader, what are you facing today? Be careful not to grumble and complain against God for leading you through it. I know you might believe you had a better plan for your day, but trust me, you don’t. God has a perfect purpose for why you are experiencing whatever you are going through. Trust Him; He knows what He’s doing. 

Embracing Vulnerability as a Christian Leader

/ Richard Bargas / Leave a comment

“Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. And it was the Mary who anointed the Lord with perfume, and wiped His feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick. So the sisters sent to Him, saying, “Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick.” (John 11:1–3, LSB) 

There is an abundance of goodness in this account of Lazarus being raised from the dead by Jesus that I wish I had the time to discuss this morning. However, the opening verses convey many truths that the rest of the account confirms. Jesus loves His sheep. I’m not suggesting that Jesus only loves His sheep or that His love for them is of the same kind or quality as His love for everyone else. Nevertheless, we cannot examine the life of Christ and deny that Jesus was a loving shepherd to His sheep.

This post continues my thoughts from yesterday about Jesus being the Good Shepherd. You can read that post here. Now, in the next chapter, John 11, Jesus will once again demonstrate how deep His love is for His friends.

In this section, we are reintroduced to the siblings, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Mary has shown her love for Christ by anointing His feet with perfume and wiping His feet with her hair. Martha has been hosting Jesus and the disciples, feeding and caring for them. Lazarus is referenced in verse 3 as “he whom you love.” Jesus the Good Shepherd loves His sheep, and His sheep love Him.

This truth prompted me to reflect on several conversations I’ve had with older pastors. They warned me during my early ministry days that my wife and I should be cautious about becoming too close to those in our congregation. They indicated there was a risk in forming friendships with the people, suggesting that loving them should be maintained from a distance.

I understand. If you keep your distance, when you get burned by others (not if, but when), it will hurt less. Don’t invite them into your life, don’t share, don’t care, and you won’t hurt. All of that is true, but is it faithful? When I look at the life of the Good Shepherd, I see that He wept with those who wept. He was raw, and He even cried. When He saw that Lazarus was dead, Jesus wept (Jn 11:35) even though He knew that He would raise him to life again. 

Jesus wasn’t a cold robot. He didn’t keep people at arm’s length. He had 12 disciples with Him for three years, almost non-stop. They saw Him laugh, cry, and display every human emotion possible, yet without sin. Jesus lived among the sheep, not wrapped in a bubble or in a high tower above them. He touched both the sick and the sinner alike. Are we better than Jesus?

I have experienced many sleepless nights because my troubled heart wakes me from my sleep. I have wept with those who lost loved ones and sat with friends as they faced death. I have laughed deeply until I can hardly breathe. My brothers and sisters in Christ are some of my dearest friends on earth. I feel deeply with them and for them. That’s what love does. And that’s what the Good Shepherd did, and continues to do for His own.If you’re in ministry and someone has told you to stay distant and aloof, don’t buy it. Be wise. Be the mature, Christian leader God has called you to be. But don’t isolate yourself from the sheep to protect your own heart. That’s not only cowardly; it’s ineffective and unfaithful. Remember that a servant is not above his Master (Matt 10:24), and you’re not better than Jesus. Be like Him. Love the sheep.

Improving Writing Skills as a Pastor

/ Richard Bargas / Leave a comment

As a pastor, I wouldn’t write anything that I would consider “formal,” such as articles, papers, or books. After seminary, papers became a thing of the past, but they taught me both good and bad habits. Seminary papers are often meant to be technical and, to be honest, are not the most enjoyable to read. They can be tedious because they are so precise and focus on the minute details of a biblical text that interest scholars, but not most other people. It can take a while for a newly minted seminary graduate to break away from that style of writing when preparing his sermons. If you’ve ever heard a message given by one of these young men, then you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I began leading a church as their pastor after my first year of seminary. I knew I wasn’t ready yet, but the church was small and needed someone to guide them, and my pastor was confident that with his help and guidance, I would be okay. I found that the combination of experience with the congregation, time spent in seminary classrooms, and hours spent reading had a positive effect on me. The reading assignments and papers I wrote had focus and purpose. They reflected the idea of the pastor-scholar, the shepherd who invests deeply in his studies so that he can frequently emerge to tend to the sheep with loving care and deep devotion. Being a scholar is a lot of work, and so is being a shepherd of God’s sheep. But merging the two is a joyful labor that offers the best of both worlds.

I write all of this because it was in this laboratory of the local church that I truly began writing in a different way. In serving my local church, I was writing—but not on exegetical minutiae; nor was I producing the emotional devotional material typically found in church newsletters. Mainly focusing on expositions, my writing aimed to merge the deeper thoughts of the biblical text with practical applications and illustrations. Making hard concepts understandable for the person in the pew was a labor of love.

I have once again begun writing for this blog because I need to continue honing my writing. I write for the Voice magazine and constantly edit the content we create. But writing takes a certain amount of practice and discipline if you want to become a decent writer. I want to grow in this area, and so I need to write every day, if possible.

Our world is shifting from humans to machines. Artificial intelligence, like social media, is changing our environment. People have shorter attention spans, read less, and possess less patience for anything longer than a few brief sentences. This has also impacted how people write. Younger generations struggle with spelling, at least without the aid of auto-correct. Many can’t write in longhand (cursive). Additionally, crafting sentences that flow smoothly and are readable is becoming increasingly rare. I often read news articles from major outlets that are filled with typographical errors. Just yesterday, I read a scholarly journal article packed with misspelled words. This reflects both poor writing and inadequate editing. I mention this not to throw stones but to encourage you to personally combat this tide of dehumanization. Read books. Write. Sharpen your craft if you are a pastor.

If you’d like to sample some of my more formal writing for the IFCA International magazine, The Voice, you can read it here. I have written the first article in each issue for about six years. I am greatly indebted to the many fine writers we feature, which makes our magazine an excellent blend for the church of the pastor-scholar ideal.

Sleeping Under the Threat of a Tornado

/ Richard Bargas / Leave a comment

“So Jesus, knowing that they were going to come and take Him by force to make Him king, withdrew again to the mountain by Himself alone. Now when evening came, His disciples went down to the sea, and after getting into a boat, they began to cross the sea to Capernaum. It had already become dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. And the sea was stirred up because a strong wind was blowing. Then, when they had rowed about twenty-five or thirty stadia, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and drawing near to the boat; and they were frightened. But He said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.”  (John 6:15–20, LSB)

Last night, while half way across the country, I received weather alerts telling me that there was a growing threat that tornadoes were possible back home. I saw the weather map in the morning when I passed by the TV screen in the hotel lobby and the dark red spots over home made me a little concerned—but these things always seem to pass by, right?

Last night the text appeared on my phone: “We are going down [into the basement]. Please pray.” The accompanying photo of an emergency weather alert didn’t settle my heart: “National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 10:45 PM EDT. Take shelter now in a basement of an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building…”

After feeding 5,000 men, not counting women and children, Jesus knew that the people wanted to make him their king. I wondered, what kind of king could they have wanted? Israel was under Roman occupation and a part of the Empire, though they wouldn’t have accepted that truth. Surely they didn’t think Jesus would become the new Emperor of Rome. The Herodian Dynasty was still active, and Herod was called a “king” even though he ruled locally at the pleasure of Rome. Would Jesus simply take Herod’s place as the “king of the Jews” in Palestine? The more I think about it, not only did Jesus refuse to allow them to make him their king because he needed to be crucified for the sins of men, but add to that the fact that the type of king the people wanted was far too small of an office for Jesus. He wasn’t satisfied to simply be a king, or the king of the Jews, or even the Emperor of Rome. No, Jesus is the King of kings and Lord of lords. The people weren’t thinking big enough.

That may have been why John shows his readers that Jesus crossed the sea in a storm by walking upon the water. Jesus was overqualified to be a simple client-king. He was too powerful to fit into the hierarchy of rulers and petty lords that dotted the earth in those days. The God-Man who can feed his people, had complete power over nature. He was not scared of the storm as the disciples in their little fishing boat were. Of course not. He made that body of water, and he commanded the wind and the waves. He wasn’t a victim of gravity and didn’t need to obey the laws of nature that say a man’s mass is heavier than water. Just like he was Lord of the Sabbath, Jesus is Lord over all, so that even the wind and the seas obey him.

After I prayed for my family—and pray I did!—I was able to rest. I didn’t have the best night of sleep, but I slept. Being half-way across the country reminds a person that they are helpless to do anything to help. But had I been huddled in the basement with my wife and daughters, what would I have done if a tornado had touched down in our neighborhood? I was powerless to help them—either away or at home.

But as I called out to the One who has all power, who is greater than any earthly king or president or prime minister, I was reminded of the final words of Jesus above as I prayed, “It is I; do not be afraid.”

Sometimes Faith Seems Too Simple

/ Richard Bargas / Leave a comment

“And Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh will be restored to you and you will be clean. But Naaman was furious and went away and said, “Behold, I said to myself, ‘He will surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of Yahweh his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper. Are not Abanah and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them and be clean?” So he turned and went away in wrath. Then his servants approached and spoke to him and said, “My father, had the prophet spoken with you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more then, when he says to you, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and dipped himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; and his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy and he was clean.  (2 Kings 5:10–14, LSB)

O how we love our religious rituals. The more complex and complicated, the better.

The scene was simple. Naaman wanted to be healed of his leprosy and he had heard that there was a man of God in Israel who could do what no one else could do. So, piling up all the things you think you need, a letter of introduction, lavish gifts to help grease the wheels of the prophet and to motivate a positive response, and a long, arduous trek through arid lands to show that he was serious about being healed. When Namaan finally arrived, he must have been filled with expectation and hope.

But when the man of God didn’t even come out of his house, instead sending his servant with a message, the sick man was disappointed. Then there was the instructions—go and bathe in the Jordan river, washing seven times. In case you don’t know it, the Jordan is brown, not crystal clear. Now, Namaan grew angry. After all, he was an important man back home. Couldn’t the prophet at least come out and speak to him? And bathe in a dirty river? What about the rituals, the odd dances, potions, sparks, incantations, beads, smoke, chants…but nothing? Just take a bath in this muddy river?

Namaan almost left in disgust. We do love our rituals.

But rituals don’t heal. Neither do clear or muddy rivers. And for that matter, neither do prophets or servants of prophets. Only God has the power to heal. And God works on faith.

When his servants saw his anger and frustration, they knew they would soon be heading back home, and Namaan would still be leprous. So, they tried to reason with their master. “If the prophet had come out and made you swing a chicken over your head and then drink water upside down while you sang “Ave Maria,” would you have done it?” “Well, yes of course,” reasoned the soldier. Now that would be a proper ritual!

“Then, since we have come all this way, why wouldn’t you do the simple thing, trust the man of God, and simply wash as he asked in the Jordan river.”

You know, for some people, faith is too simple. Just trusting that Jesus died in your place for the forgiveness of sins is too easy. We need to do something. Self-flagellation or penance of some sort must be necessary. One hundred “Hail Mary’s” or skip chocolate for a month. I mean, I’ve been bad, but not as bad as that guy, we reason. But just believe? Just trust? It’s too easy! Just place my faith in the finished death, burial, resurrection and ascension of Jesus? There’s got to be more. After all, there’s no such thing as a free lunch!

It’s true. The forgiveness of all our sins, which is more complicated than cleansing from leprosy, did cost more. It cost the life of the Son of God, who willingly gave it because of love, by dying on the cross. There’s nothing more you can do other than receiving this free gift.

When Namaan went into the muddy waters of the Jordan, he came out with skin as soft as a baby’s bottom. And when we come to Christ by faith alone in what he has done, trusting in Him, not our own works, our heart will emerge white as snow. It’s that simple.