I heard that, back in 2003, a funeral company in Brazil released an advert on local TV with the rather bold motto: “Our clients have never come back to complain.”
Well… this morning’s gospel reading (John 11:1–45) gives us the story of someone who very much broke the rule of never coming back! We’ve heard the extraordinary account of Lazarus, the friend of Jesus, who had died and yet lived again.
It’s a story that reminds us how quickly life moves on. But in the middle of all that change, this passage gives us one great constant, that is the voice of Jesus saying, “I am the resurrection and the life.”
He speaks those words to Martha, Lazarus’ sister. She loved her brother deeply and she believed in Jesus wholeheartedly. And Martha was convinced that if Jesus had only arrived sooner, Lazarus would still be alive. Her faith was strong, but not quite strong enough to imagine what Jesus was about to do next.
And who can blame her? She believed Jesus could heal. She believed he could work wonders. But to bring someone back from the dead? That was a step too far. That was beyond imagination.
Yet Jesus does exactly that. Almost as if responding to her fragile but genuine faith, he shows that he is not only capable of the unlikely, not only the miraculous, but even the impossible. He calls Lazarus out of the tomb, and Lazarus walks out into the light.
This is about Jesus - the Resurrection and the Life.
Before the crucifixion, his followers couldn’t fully grasp what those words meant. But on this Passion Sunday, we stand on the other side of the story. We know that Jesus accepted the pain of the cross so that he could rise again. He took on the weight of our sin, and in doing so opened the way to new life for us all.
And that resurrection life is not just something for the future. It’s not simply a promise of heaven one day. When Jesus talks about life, he means life now. Life that begins today. Life that is renewed, reshaped, and filled with hope - even in the middle of the ordinary, the messy, and the painful.
The season of Lent is always a bit of a journey. We began on Ash Wednesday with the reminder that we are dust. Today we heard Ezekiel’s vision of the dry bones - bones that God brings back to life. It’s a powerful picture of what God can do - taking what seems hopeless and breathing life into it again.
That is the faith we’re invited to live by. A faith that says that even in the darkest moments, God can bring light. Even in the most barren places, God can bring life. Even when everything feels lost, God can restore.
There are many things we could draw from the story of Lazarus, but this morning I want to focus on just a few.
When Jesus hears that Lazarus is dying, he is some distance away. Bethany, where Lazarus lived, is only two miles from Jerusalem - right in the territory where people were already plotting to kill Jesus. Going back there was dangerous. It was a risk.
To us, knowing the whole story, that might not seem surprising. We know Jesus would eventually give his life. But to the disciples, this must have seemed reckless. Why walk straight into danger?
The answer is because Jesus never abandons those he loves. Not then and not now.
God is still there for us – always. His love is not cautious or calculated. It is generous, committed, and willing to meet us exactly where we are - with all our problems, all our failings, all our imperfections, all our joys!
One of the things that is striking about this account is that Jesus doesn’t rush to Bethany. He stays where he is for two more days. We’re not told why. Perhaps he had work to finish. Perhaps he spent time in prayer. But he waits.
And that waiting speaks to something we all struggle with at times – that is that God’s timing is not always our timing!
When we pray, we often want answers immediately. We want God to act now, in the way we expect, at the moment we think best. And when that doesn’t happen, it can be painful. It can feel like silence.
But the story of Lazarus reminds us that God hears. God knows. God acts - but in his way and in his time. And his timing, though mysterious, is always rooted in love.
Then there is Martha. Her faith is remarkable. She believes Jesus could have saved Lazarus if he had arrived earlier. She believes in his power. She believes in his goodness. But she cannot imagine that death itself could be undone.
And I wonder whether we would have believed any differently? Even with the resurrection story behind us, we often struggle to trust that God can do the impossible. We pray, but sometimes we hold back. We hope, but sometimes only cautiously.
Yet Jesus invites us to trust more deeply. To lay things down before God - not because we are certain of the outcome, but because we are certain of his love. Faith is not about having all the answers. It’s about placing our lives in the hands of the One who does.
And finally, think of the miracle itself. Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb. A man who had been dead for four days walks out alive.
It is astonishing. It is dramatic. It is unforgettable.
But the heart of the miracle is not only what happened then - it is what God still offers today.
New life is not just a moment in history. It is the ongoing work of God in the world and in us. It may not look like a physical resurrection, but it is just as real. God welcomes people of every background, every story, every struggle, every doubt. He brings healing, forgiveness, purpose, and hope. He brings life where there was none.
And that new life is still exciting. Still transformative. Still offered freely.
On this Passion Sunday, as we draw nearer to Good Friday and the crucifixion, we remember our Saviour who gave everything for those he loved. But we also celebrate our Saviour who still offers new life today.
Our Saviour who calls each of us by name, just as he called Lazarus. Our Saviour who invites us to step out of whatever tomb we may find ourselves in - fear, guilt, tiredness, disappointment - but also invites those whose lives feel full and joyful to step even further into his light, his purpose, and his love.
Whether we come burdened or hopeful, weary or thriving, Jesus meets us where we are and invites us into a life that is deeper, richer, and more alive than we ever imagined.
Let us pray:
O God, help us with our vision.
Sometimes our vision is too close, and we see only what is right in front of us.
Give us wider horizons and a deeper perspective.
Sometimes our vision is clouded by our own darkness.
Help us to change, to grow, to learn new ways.
Sometimes we see only the physical - the worldly, the immediate.
Help us to see you, and to trust your ways rather than the ways of the world.
Sometimes what is behind our eyes - our fears, our prejudices, our hurts - distorts what we see before our eyes.
Open our eyes to what you reveal. And help us to commit all we are and all we have to you, in Jesus’ name. Amen.
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