9 Holy Week Lessons for Handling Hard TimesSample

Originally, I was going to write a Holy Week devotional about living in uncertain times. It sure seems like that’s where we are right now, doesn’t it? The devotional was going to center around the uncertainty Jesus faced as he set his course toward Jerusalem and his impending crucifixion.

But then my life took a turn.

A day or so before I was to begin writing, completely out of the blue, my wife received a sudden, unforeseen, severe, and aggressive cancer diagnosis. What had been a normal Monday turned into the worst day of my life. For the next week, my core muscles hurt from ugly crying and deep-from-the-gut praying.

I thought for a long time about shelving the idea of a devotional. But if you have been through a very difficult season, you likely know that it’s in the valley where we meet Jesus in the deepest ways. It’s there in the valley–not on the mountaintops–where things grow.

I know that’s been true for me. I’m in a raw spot, with a very uncertain immediate future, and suffering is ahead not just for me, but more importantly for my wife.

So maybe this is the best time to write. And rather than start on the first day of Holy Week, I’m starting a day early for a concrete reason.

Today, the day before Palm Sunday, is referred to in the Eastern Orthodox Church as “Lazarus Saturday.” It’s a feast day that commemorates Jesus raising his friend Lazarus from the dead, and maybe one of my favorite stories in the Bible. I could write a book on it.

But instead of a book’s worth of thoughts, today I want to focus on the shortest verse in the Bible.

“Jesus wept.”

If you read the whole of John 11, you’ll see that Jesus was made aware of his friend’s illness long before he set out to visit and heal him. In fact, he commanded his followers to wait to go see Lazarus. Then when he arrived, Mary and Martha, sisters who were known for being very different people, both came to Jesus with the same words: “Lord, if you had only been here, my brother would still be alive.”

Have you ever felt that line? I have. It’s bitterness, regret, and futility all in one sentence. If you had only been here, we would have found cancer sooner. If you had only been here, we could have avoided loss. But Jesus knew that by waiting, he would have the chance to show God’s glory in raising a man who had been dead three days. Jesus knew the plan.

I have always found it intriguing that Jesus knew the plan, knew he was about to raise his friend from the dead, and cried anyway.

Jesus wept.

Knowing that he did does my soul good today. My wife will be healed, whether it’s on this side of the Jordan or the next. Your pain will one day end. And in the middle of that assurance, it’s ok to weep. Even Jesus did, and he counts your tears. He hears the prayers that come in your pain.

King David said it this way: “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” Psalm‬ ‭56‬:‭8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In fact, when Jesus speaks of a divine healing, he often refers to “being moved to compassion,” or splagchnizomai in Greek. That word is a medical term that literally means “having your guts turned inside out.” It doesn’t mean, “he had a soft spot,” or “his heart was moved” but something much more intense and physical. And anytime that word is used, a great healing follows.

Have you had that kind of pain? Do you know what it means to cry so hard your ab muscles hurt? To wail from the gut? Jesus does. And it is often the catalyst for healing.

Today, it’s ok to cry. It’s ok to wail. And as you do, know that Jesus knows your pain. He knows your sickness. He knows your loss. And it turns his guts inside out to the point that the Lord of Life weeps alongside you and will be moved to heal you.

Prayer:

Jesus, bottle up my tears. Keep them as a prayer. Let them move you to compassion and bring healing in my life. You did it for your friend Lazarus, and I’m trusting you to call me friend today.

Amen.