Commentary - John 11:17-27

Bird's-eye view

In this profound interaction outside a tomb in Bethany, we are brought face to face with the central claim of the Christian faith. Jesus arrives, deliberately late by human standards, to a scene of established and settled grief. Lazarus is not just dead; he is four days dead, a detail John includes to underscore the finality and hopelessness of the situation from a natural perspective. Into this settled despair, Jesus brings a truth that shatters all categories. He engages with Martha, a woman of practical and robust faith, yet a faith that is still constrained by conventional expectations. Her grief is mixed with a raw "if only" theology, which Jesus gently but powerfully corrects. The dialogue moves from the specific grief over one man to the universal problem of death, and Jesus provides the ultimate, personal answer. He does not offer a platitude or a philosophical treatise on the afterlife; He offers Himself. The climax is His monumental declaration, "I am the resurrection and the life," a statement that redefines reality itself. This passage is not simply a prelude to a miracle; it is a fundamental revelation of Christ's identity and the nature of the hope He brings.

Martha's subsequent confession, echoing Peter's at Caesarea Philippi, demonstrates that true faith, even when wrestling with immense sorrow and confusion, can lay hold of the essential truth. Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. This encounter teaches us that Christian hope is not a vague optimism about the future but a present reality rooted in the person of Jesus Christ. He does not merely point the way to resurrection; He embodies it.

Outline

Context In John

This scene is the pivot point in John's Gospel. The raising of Lazarus is the seventh and greatest of Jesus' "signs," the one that makes His public execution inevitable. Up to this point, Jesus has demonstrated His authority over nature, sickness, and demonic forces. Now He will demonstrate His authority over death itself, the final enemy. This event directly precedes the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem and the beginning of Passion Week. The glory of God, which Jesus spoke of at the beginning of the chapter (John 11:4), is about to be revealed in a way that will leave no room for neutrality. The miracle will create a surge of popular belief, which in turn will provoke the Sanhedrin to issue a formal death sentence (John 11:45-53). Thus, the act of giving life to Lazarus is the very act that seals Jesus' own death. Thematically, it is the ultimate expression of the central message of John's Gospel: Jesus is the source of eternal life, and belief in Him is the means by which that life is received.

Key Issues

The God Who Shows Up Late

One of the hardest truths for us to swallow is that God's timetable is not ours. From the perspective of Martha and Mary, Jesus was inexcusably late. They had sent word when Lazarus was sick, and Jesus deliberately stayed where He was for two more days. By the time He arrives, the funeral is over, the seven-day period of intense mourning is well underway, and the body has begun to decay. All hope is gone. But this is precisely the canvas upon which God loves to paint. He allows situations to get to the point of absolute human impossibility so that when He acts, no one can mistake His power for a lucky break or a natural recovery. The four-day delay was not an act of callousness; it was an act of mercy. It was designed to display a glory far greater than a simple healing would have. It was to show that Jesus is not just a healer of sickness, but the conqueror of death itself. He is never late; He is always sovereignly on time to accomplish His ultimate purposes for His own glory and for the good of His people.

Verse by Verse Commentary

17 So when Jesus came, He found that he had already been in the tomb four days.

John states the situation with stark finality. Four days. According to a common Jewish belief at the time, the soul was thought to hover near the body for three days, hoping to re-enter it. By the fourth day, when decomposition was visibly underway, all hope was considered utterly lost. This detail is not incidental; it is theological dynamite. Jesus is not arriving to perform a resuscitation on a man in a coma. He is arriving to confront death in its most settled and triumphant state. He is stepping into a situation that everyone present, friend and foe alike, would have declared absolutely, irredeemably hopeless.

18-19 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, about fifteen stadia away; and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary, to console them about their brother.

The proximity to Jerusalem is significant. Fifteen stadia is a little less than two miles. This means that the events about to unfold will have a large audience, and news will travel quickly to the capital, the seat of religious authority. The presence of "many of the Jews" shows that this family was well-known and respected. It also sets the stage for the miracle to have numerous witnesses, making it an undeniable public event. These are not just a few grieving neighbors; this is a significant crowd, gathered for the customary period of mourning. Jesus is walking into the heart of a communal expression of grief and loss.

20-21 Martha therefore, when she heard that Jesus was coming, went to meet Him, but Mary was sitting in the house. Martha then said to Jesus, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.

Here we see the different personalities of the two sisters. Martha, the active and practical one, hears the news and immediately goes out. Mary, perhaps more contemplative or simply overcome with grief, remains seated. Martha's first words to Jesus are a jumble of faith and frustration, a statement that is both a confession of His power and a rebuke for His absence. "Lord, if You had been here..." This is the cry of a hurting heart. It is a theology forged in the crucible of loss. She believes in His power to heal, which is a great statement of faith. But her faith is limited by geography and time. She believes His power works only when He is physically present and before death has occurred. It is a real faith, but it is a small faith, and it is a faith that Jesus is about to expand dramatically.

22 But even now I know that whatever You ask from God, God will give You.”

And yet, her faith will not let go entirely. After the raw pain of verse 21, she pivots. This is a remarkable statement. Even with her brother four days in the tomb, a flicker of desperate hope remains. She is not sure what is possible, but she knows who Jesus is. She knows He has a unique relationship with the Father. She doesn't presume to tell Him what to ask, but she affirms her belief that His prayers are always answered. She is throwing a "Hail Mary" pass of faith, if you will. She is clinging to the person of Christ even when the circumstances scream that all is lost. This is the very nature of gritty, tenacious faith.

23-24 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to Him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.”

Jesus gives her a true and comforting statement, but one that is deliberately ambiguous. Martha hears it and files it away in the correct theological category. She is a good Pharisee in her doctrine. She believes in the future, bodily resurrection of the dead at the end of time. She is affirming sound eschatology. But in the face of her present, overwhelming grief, this future hope feels distant and abstract. It is correct doctrine, but it is cold comfort. She is essentially saying, "Yes, Lord, I know the catechism answer. But my brother is dead now." Jesus is about to show her that her correct doctrine is about to crash into her present reality in the person of the One standing before her.

25-26 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die, ever. Do you believe this?”

This is one of the most monumental statements ever uttered. Jesus does not say, "I will bring about the resurrection," or "I will show you the way to life." He says, "I AM." He is not a guide to the thing; He is the thing itself. The resurrection is not just an event at the end of history; it is a person who has just entered history. He embodies the very power that reverses death and the very essence of life itself. He then unpacks this staggering claim. For the believer, physical death is no longer the final word. "He who believes in Me will live even if he dies." This means that the sting of death is removed. The believer passes through physical death into a greater life. Then He goes further: "everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die, ever." This refers to the second death, spiritual and eternal separation from God. The one who is united to Christ by faith is eternally secure. He possesses eternal life as a present reality. Jesus then puts the question directly to Martha, making it intensely personal: "Do you believe this?" This is the question that confronts every person who hears the gospel.

27 She said to Him, “Yes, Lord; I have believed that You are the Christ, the Son of God, the One who comes into the world.”

Martha's response is magnificent. Does she fully comprehend the dense theology Jesus just laid out? Almost certainly not. But she does what every true believer does. She falls back on what she knows for certain. She may not grasp all the implications of "I am the resurrection," but she knows who He is. She makes the great confession: You are the Messiah ("the Christ"), You are divine ("the Son of God"), and You are the fulfillment of all Old Testament prophecy ("the One who comes into the world"). This is the bedrock of saving faith. It is not about having a perfect intellectual grasp of every theological nuance; it is about trusting the person. Her faith, though battered by grief and confusion, latches onto the central, non-negotiable truth of Jesus' identity. And on the basis of that faith, she is about to see the glory of God.

Application

This passage meets us right where we live, in a world full of death, loss, and "if onlys." Like Martha, we often have a decent, orthodox faith that we keep on a shelf for the future. We believe in the resurrection on the last day, but that doesn't always help when we are standing at a graveside on a Tuesday. Jesus's word to Martha is His word to us. He is not a distant hope; He is a present reality. The resurrection is not just a future event; it is a present power available to us now through the person of Christ.

When we are confronted with our own "four days dead" situations, the marriage that seems beyond repair, the sin that seems unconquerable, the grief that feels final, we must hear Jesus's question: "Do you believe this?" Do we believe that He is the resurrection and the life, right now? Our faith is not in our ability to understand everything, but in His identity as the Christ, the Son of God. He is sufficient. The life He offers is not just an extension of our current existence; it is a qualitatively different kind of life, an eternal life that starts at the moment of belief and cannot be touched by death. We are called to live as people who have already died with Christ and have been raised to new life. This means that death has lost its terror, and the grave has lost its victory. Because He is the resurrection, we can face any loss, any grief, and any tomb with the defiant hope that He is Lord over it all.