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God and Delayed Justice: John 11
John’s gospel is actually riddled strategically with a message of hope when it feels like God is ironically acting against your best interests.
Jesus begins in the narrative by purposefully being absent where he is needed (11:6-7). As the narrative continues, his involvement deepens, his responses become more personal and hopeful (23-36), and a once seemingly distant God now takes on the suffering of the people (38-44).
We’ve all asked the same question that the Jewish community was asking? “Couldn’t he who opened the blind man’s eyes also have kept this man from dying?” (11:37).
God, you’ve done harder things. Couldn’t you have fixed this?
The Lazarus miracle emphasizes that God’s purposes are not hindered by either Jesus’ delay or the reality of Lazarus’s decay; rather, these very elements are integral to the outworking of God’s sovereign will. John presents Jesus’ delay not as negligence, but as a profound expression of divine love for Lazarus and his family, and a day is coming when He will make all of it right again
More than any other New Testament story, I believe the Lazarus narrative in John 11 comforts those who feel that their suffering is not an immediate need to God. It is the longest miracle narrative in the gospel, giving incredible detail to feelings of pain and loss, and the story’s irony is completely intentional on the author’s part.
Jesus does not go where Martha and Mary ask him to, he does go where the disciples tell him not to. He interchanges “sleep” with “death” and confuses the disciples multiple times with his word Ju Jitsu. It’s almost as if every need brought to Jesus, he ignores or denies.
If you read the bible ungraciously (meaning you don’t make excuses for it or try to explain away things that seem confusing and contradictory) you’ll notice God often appears to act as though time does not matter. It’s as if we’re supposed to live in the present some reality that does, in fact, not yet exist. Take the future and hold onto it right here and now, in this space and time.
That’s exactly how God seems to frame almost everything in everyone’s story from Abraham to John of Patmos.
If we’re honest, it's frustrating, because we do live in time. We wait.
A lot.
We don’t see what God is talking about. We don’t have what God promises in our hands yet.
God promises justice, but millions of innocents die at the hands of evil throughout generations. The poor are extorted by the rich. The deceiver rides off into the sunset. The adulterer moves on and starts a new life. Children die so factories can make money. Disease was introduced to the community because some gold-hunters’ quest had devastated the locals and plagued the villages.
The mean boss keeps his fat salary, and the mom who supports 3 kids is out with nothing. Theodor Herzl is still remembered as a hero rather than a tyrant. No one was held accountable for the water in Flint, Michigan. The Darfur region in Sudan is still dealing with ongoing genocide. Children are deliberately starved in Gaza. Whatever happened to Kevin Spacey’s misconduct charges?
No matter how you try to explain it away, justice just feels… delayed.
That’s the way the Johannine community felt when the author of John’s gospel was writing for them. They likely lived between 90-110 C.E. when persecution and social prejudice was becoming more intense, especially in Palestine. Life was getting harder, and nothing was getting better.
They knew how it felt to be told, “Hope is coming!” when suffering seems to be the only thing in front of you.
“Lord, if you had just been here…” (John 11:21) Those are Martha’s words to Jesus when he finally shows up, four days too late.
God’s timing feels off. Crooked. Just wrong enough to be wrong.
But Jesus didn’t miss the miracle. He just had a better one in mind.
John 11 is the author’s attempt to keep hope alive in a community experiencing long suffering and hardship. The pain of loss is real. The darkness from deferred hope is sickening.
It even made Jesus weep (11:35).
But resurrection is a promise. You don’t get to pick the timing, but you get to keep the promise, no matter what.
John’s gospel is riddled strategically with a message of hope when it feels like God is ironically acting against your best interests.
Jesus begins by purposefully being absent where he is needed (11:6-7). But as the narrative continues, his involvement deepens, his responses become more personal and hopeful (23-36), and a once seemingly distant God now takes on the suffering of the people (38-44). Jesus is coming. That’s a promise.
We’ve all asked the same question that the Jewish community was asking, “Couldn’t he who opened the blind man’s eyes also have kept this man from dying?” (11:37).
God, you’ve done harder things. Couldn’t you have fixed this?
The Lazarus miracle emphasizes that God’s purposes are not hindered by either Jesus’ delay or Lazarus’ decay; rather, these very elements are integral to the outworking of God’s sovereign will. Jesus’ delay is not negligence. It’s a profound expression of divine love for Lazarus and his family, even if they can’t see it yet. And a day is coming when God will make all of it right again. Lazarus’ resurrection is just a taste. God does not merely accompany His children in the face of evil, but actively employs that very evil to accomplish His good purposes.