He Cried with Me

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My heart was heavy. How would we make it without our brother?

Martha stood before me, “The Master is calling for you.”

The weight around my heart released its grip. I knew he’d come. I ran towards Him. I had to see Him. He would understand.

And seeing Jesus, I fell down at His feet—my safe place to fall. (Tweet that)

From the first time I met Him, I devoured every word He’d say. I had to. Those words would sink into the deepest parts of me, like a healing balm. And when He spoke it was as if He knew me. My thoughts, my heart, the real me.

He’d come to our home and Martha would fuss. Martha loved fussing. She’d even get upset with me. Wanting me to get up and fuss with her.

But I wasn’t going to miss one word. Not one. And now in our grief He was here.

I stood up though my heart tried keeping me down. Grief weighs heavily. The closer the loved one— the heavier the weight.

Somehow standing next to Him I knew He’d help us through this. Jesus loved Lazarus. Oh Lazarus. How I ache.

The words forced their way out of my mouth.

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

He knew how I felt, whether I spoke it or not.

That “if only,” had tormented me for hours, ever since we saw him stop breathing. We were just so sure Jesus would come. His absence made everything much harder. Impossible.

And now, standing beside Him, my tears fell freely. This was my brother I lost, the one I shared my life with.

Looking up, I saw Jesus’ eyes. There were no looks of judgement. He felt no need to rebuke me in His gentle way.

He wasn’t disappointed in my humanness. Instead, I saw His compassion, reflected in His tears.

And in His grief, He prayed.

Grief would not stop Him, nothing would stop Him from acknowledging God. He thanked God for hearing Him.

He showed me God can always be reached, no matter where we are.

And Jesus called out, “Lazarus, come forth!”

The air was quiet. I saw the faces of those around me. Those who had loved Lazarus, loved us.

I struggled to believe good would come out of something so hard. But somehow with Jesus there, it seemed possible. With Him all things were possible.

All eyes were on the tomb. The anticipation was thick. No one moved.

And then, we saw him still bound, walking toward us. There was no question it was him. Martha and I had put those grave clothes on. Carefully, we dressed him, remembering our times together.

And now here he was. I caught my breath. Time stood still.

We ran to him. Embraced him.

He had been gone, yet he stood before us.

I always felt my Master loved me. But today I see how much. Do you know why?

He cried with me.

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23 thoughts on “He Cried with Me

  1. Dear Joan
    Another thing from this story that also brings me so much joy and encouragement, is the words of Jesus when He prayed. He prayed aloud for the benefit of the bystanders and His first were of thanks to His Father that He always listened and always heard when Jesus talked to Him. He was showing us that we never have to doubt that our Pappa always listens to us when we talk to Him as well.
    Blessings XX
    Mia

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    • Mia,

      You’re right when Jesus prayed it was for the benefit of those who were watching. He knew what His Father would do. I love that He thanked God before Lazarus came out. Thanks for reading the post.

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    • Kath,
      Thank you for reading. I believe sometimes all we need is to put ourselves in the shoes of another to adequately understand. It takes us out of ourselves and stretches us. And that is a good kind of stretching. I once played the character of Mary in an Easter scene. When the time came I was to fall at the Master’s feet. I surprised myself with the amount of emotion I had. The tears I had were real. God let me feel what Mary felt when she recognized it was her Savior who had returned. You know, I had forgotten about that little part till now.

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  2. Dear Anne, emotional, humbling, personal writing. I appreciate the way you write about your strong faith. You made the story ‘real’. I’m wasn’t an observer. I was there. Thank you for the message of hope.

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    • Patricia,
      If we can impart hope to someone else. If we can somehow give them a taste of peace, of joy. If we can accomplish just a little calming of the waves that crash against someone else. That is an accomplishment. If I let you taste what God let me taste, wow. I’m humbled. It is truly a privilege to be able to write. One neither of us takes lightly. How could we? The pains of this life are etched into us and they can’t help but make their way into our writing. Thank you for reading.

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  3. Over and over, these images of Jesus’ acceptance of and inclusion in our humanity moves me. Thank you for sharing your feelings of this moment in the Bible through the eyes of one who knew his tears.

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  4. Oh, Anne!
    This is a sensitive and wise post, one that elicits many emotions, especially to all of us who have felt the pain of death of a loved one. You have such a way with words. Great power and inspiration in everything you write!
    Your posts do not come to my inbox. Since I cannot always make it to FB, I miss so much.

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  5. Katina,

    Thanks for reading and for your kind comments. I haven’t been posting on my blog as much. I actually wrote someone who is very well known in the area of grief and I asked him if he would read my book. We’ll see.

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    • Wish you all best for your book. That’s the one about your sister. Right?
      What is happening with that? Is ready to publish?

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  6. Yes, it’s the one about my sister and my story as well. I just finished the cover. I have someone looking at it for last minute comments. I need to be writing posts so I can get some guest posting for it. I think I am stalling a bit.

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