John 11:1-44
Before resurrection, there are tears.
In John 11, Jesus stands at the tomb of his friend Lazarus. He knows what he is about to do. He knows resurrection is coming. And still, he weeps.
Jesus does not bypass grief. He does not silence sorrow with quick miracle. He does not rush Martha or Mary toward a brighter outlook.
He weeps.
As we approach Lent, this may be one of the most important invitations we receive. We live in a time of relentless sorrow. The suffering of the world is not abstract, it is constant and close. Wars rage. Creation groans. Communities fracture. Many carry private griefs beneath steady smiles. It can feel overwhelming, and sometimes the temptation is to harden ourselves just enough to function.
But the gospel shows us another way. Jesus does not stand at a distance from human pain. He steps into it. He feels it. He shares it.
“Jesus wept.”
These two words remind us that lament is not weakness. It is holy ground.
This year, Lent begins with honesty. It begins by allowing ourselves to see what is broken – in the world, in our communities, and in our own hearts – without immediately trying to fix it. Resurrection will come, but first we stand at the tomb. And we weep with God.
The Sacred Practice: Grieving with God
This week, set aside 20–30 quiet minutes.
Create a simple sacred space.
Light a candle. Sit in silence. Take a few slow breaths.
Read John 11:32–36 slowly.
Notice Jesus’ tears. Notice who is around him. Notice what moves in you as you read.
Name what you are grieving.
- A personal loss or disappointment
- The suffering of someone you love
- The pain of the wider world
- The state of the church
- The ache for justice, healing, peace
You may wish to write these down. Do not censor yourself. This is not a performance of faith. This is honesty before God.
Sit with your grief in God’s presence.
Imagine Jesus standing beside you – not explaining, not correcting, not minimizing – simply present. Allow your sorrow to be seen.
Close by entrusting your grief to God.
You might place your hands open on your lap as a sign of release.
This is not about solving our struggles or the world’s pain. It is about refusing to numb ourselves to it. It is about letting our hearts remain tender.
In grieving with God, we resist cynicism. In lament, we refuse despair. In tears, we prepare for resurrection. Lent teaches us that facing pain honestly is the only path toward new life.
Let’s pray
Tender Christ, You who stood at the tomb and wept, teach us how to grieve without losing hope. Hold the sorrow of this world in your wounded hands. Receive the grief we carry – for our lives, for our communities, for your creation. Keep our hearts soft. Keep us honest. Keep us near you. And in the quiet places of lament, plant the seeds of resurrection. Amen.
