Commentary - John 11:38-44

Bird's-eye view

In this monumental passage, we come to the seventh and greatest of the signs recorded in John's Gospel, the capstone of Jesus' public ministry that will precipitate His own death. Here, at the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus confronts the final enemy, death itself. This is not merely a resuscitation, a temporary reprieve like the son of the widow of Nain. This is a declarative act of war against the grave, a preview and promise of the universal resurrection to come. The scene is saturated with high drama: the raw grief of the mourners, the practical objection of Martha, the sovereign authority of Christ's command, and the astonishing sight of a man dead four days walking out of his tomb. Jesus demonstrates in the most tangible way possible that He is what He claimed to be just moments before: the resurrection and the life. He does not simply have power over death; He is the power over death. This miracle is the point of no return; it forces a decision. For some, it leads to saving faith. For the Sanhedrin, it solidifies their murderous resolve. For us, it is the bedrock assurance that the one who called Lazarus from the tomb will one day call us all.

The entire event is orchestrated by Jesus for a singular purpose: to reveal the glory of God. Every element, from the four-day delay to His public prayer, is designed so that those watching might believe that He is the Sent One of the Father. He is not a magician performing for a crowd; He is the Son revealing the Father. The power on display is not His own independent power, but the very power of God flowing through Him. The unbinding of Lazarus at the end is a beautiful picture of the gospel's effect: Jesus gives life, and then He commands His church to unbind the new believer from the remnants of his old, dead life, freeing him to walk in newness of life.

Outline

Context In John

The raising of Lazarus is the seventh and final "sign" that John meticulously records to demonstrate Jesus' identity as the Son of God. It follows the healing of the man born blind (John 9), which revealed Jesus as the Light of the World, and His discourse on being the Good Shepherd (John 10). This sign is the climax toward which the entire first half of the Gospel has been building. It is the ultimate demonstration of His authority and power, far surpassing turning water to wine or feeding the five thousand. This act will be the immediate catalyst for the plot to kill Jesus. The Sanhedrin, hearing the reports, concludes that if they let Him continue, everyone will believe in Him, and the Romans will come and take away their place and nation (John 11:47-48). Caiaphas then prophesies, more truly than he knows, that it is expedient for one man to die for the people. Thus, the sign that most profoundly demonstrates Jesus' power over death is the very act that seals His own death warrant. Life for Lazarus means death for Jesus, which in turn means life for the world.

Key Issues

The Stench of Death and the Glory of God

We must not sanitize this scene. Martha's objection is earthy, practical, and entirely correct from a human point of view. "Lord, by this time he smells." The Greek word is ozō, and it is blunt. He stinks. Decomposition has set in. This is not a swoon; this is not a coma. This is four-day-old, irreversible, biological death. And it is precisely this stench, this undeniable reality of corruption, that makes the perfect backdrop for the glory of God. God's glory is never more brilliant than when it shines against the black velvet of utter hopelessness.

Martha represents our sensible, earth-bound logic. She believes in a far-off, doctrinal resurrection, but she cannot conceive of it crashing into her present reality. Jesus challenges this timid faith. He doesn't rebuke her for her grief or her practicality, but He does call her back to His promise: "Did I not say to you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?" Belief is the prerequisite for seeing. Not the other way around. We live in an age that says, "Show me, and then I'll believe." God has always said, "Believe me, and then you will see." The glory is not a cosmic light show; the glory is the power of God to bring life out of stinking death, and the only way to perceive that glory is through the eyes of faith.

Verse by Verse Commentary

38 So Jesus, again being deeply moved within, came to the tomb. Now it was a cave, and a stone was lying against it.

John makes a point to tell us that Jesus was "deeply moved within" a second time. The word is embrimaomai, which denotes a deep, visceral emotion, something like a groan or even a snort of indignation. This is not just sympathy for Mary and Martha. This is the Creator's holy rage against the monstrous usurper, Death. Death was not part of the original creation. It is an intruder, an enemy, the foul consequence of sin. As Jesus, the Prince of Life, stands before the tomb, He is filled with a righteous anger at the devastation that sin and death have wrought upon His world and upon the people He loves. He comes to the tomb not as a passive mourner, but as a warrior coming to the gates of the enemy.

39 Jesus said, “Remove the stone.” Martha, the sister of the deceased, said to Him, “Lord, by this time he smells, for he has been dead four days.”

Jesus' command is simple, direct, and authoritative: "Remove the stone." He is about to do the impossible, but He commands the people to do what is possible. He could have moved the stone with a word, but He involves them in the work. This is a consistent principle in God's economy. He calls us to participate, to roll away the stones of our own limitations and excuses, so that He can do what only He can do. Martha's objection is the voice of all human experience. Four days was the Jewish marker for when the soul was believed to have definitively departed and decay had begun. She is not trying to be difficult; she is trying to protect Jesus from the gruesome reality and stench of death. Her faith, which was so robust in theory just verses before ("I know that he will rise again in the resurrection"), now falters before the physical, olfactory evidence of death's victory.

40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not say to you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

This is a gentle but firm rebuke. Jesus calls her back to His prior word. Faith is not a feeling; it is a reliance on a promise from a reliable person. He had told her that this sickness was not unto death, but for the glory of God (v. 4). Now He reminds her that belief is the condition for seeing that glory. He is teaching her, and us, that faith must not be held hostage by our circumstances or our senses. Our senses tell us, "He stinks." Faith tells us, "Jesus speaks." The question is which report we will believe. To see the glory of God, we must look away from the tomb and look to Christ, trusting His word even when it seems to contradict all the evidence.

41 So they removed the stone. Then Jesus raised His eyes, and said, “Father, I thank You that You have heard Me.

Obedience follows the word of Christ. The stone is removed. Jesus now turns His attention from the human participants to His heavenly Father. He lifts His eyes, a common posture for prayer, and begins with thanksgiving. This is remarkable. He gives thanks before Lazarus comes out. He is not petitioning God, hoping for a favorable answer. He is speaking with the confidence of a Son who is in perfect, unbroken communion with His Father. He thanks the Father for having already heard Him. Their wills are one. This prayer is not for His own benefit, to muster up power, but for the benefit of the crowd.

42 And I knew that You always hear Me; but because of the crowd standing around I said this, so that they may believe that You sent Me.”

Jesus makes the purpose of His public prayer explicit. He wants everyone to understand that the power He is about to display is not the power of a rogue magician or a self-made deity. It is the power of the Father, delegated to the Son whom He has sent. The entire miracle is a sign pointing away from Himself and toward the Father. He is jealously guarding the Father's glory. He wants the crowd to connect the dots: this man is in intimate fellowship with God, therefore the power He wields is God's power, therefore His claims to have been sent by God are true. This is the essence of the gospel of John: to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, sent from the Father (John 20:31).

43 And when He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth.”

This is the command that reverses the irreversible. It is spoken with a "loud voice," a megalē phōnē. This is the voice of sovereign power, the voice that spoke creation into existence. It is a voice that death cannot disobey. As Augustine famously commented, it was a good thing He specified "Lazarus," otherwise all the dead in that cemetery would have risen. The command is not a request. It is an imperial summons. He calls a specific man by name, demonstrating His personal relationship with the dead man. The word of Christ penetrates the realm of the dead, finds its target, and imparts life.

44 The man who had died came forth, bound hand and foot with wrappings, and his face was wrapped around with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

The response is immediate. The dead man obeys. He comes out, still entangled in his grave clothes. This is a crucial detail. He did not revive and then unwrap himself. He was given life while still bound. He hobbles out, a living man constricted by the bindings of death. This is a powerful picture of a new Christian. We are made alive in Christ, instantly, by the sovereign call of His voice. But we still have the remnants of our old life clinging to us, the habits and patterns of the grave. And so Jesus gives a second command, this time to the community: "Unbind him, and let him go." He gives the new life, but He delegates the task of discipleship, of helping the new believer get free from the old encumbrances, to His people. We are to help one another walk in the freedom that Christ has purchased and imparted.

Application

This story comes to us with at least three massive points of application. First, it teaches us where to look in the face of our own "four-day-dead" situations. We all have them. The marriage that seems beyond repair, the child who is hopelessly lost, the financial ruin that is complete, the sin that has us utterly bound. Our senses, our friends, and our own hearts will tell us, "It's too late. By this time, it stinks." And in that moment, Jesus asks us the same question He asked Martha: "Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?" We are called to defy the stench of the empirical and trust the promise of the Speaker. Faith is not denying the problem; it is believing in a God who is bigger than the problem.

Second, this is a direct preview of our own future. Jesus is the resurrection and the life. Because He lives, we shall live also. The same voice that called Lazarus by name will one day call all who are in the graves, and they will come forth. For the believer, this is not a terror but a triumphant hope. Death does not have the final word. The grave is not our home; it is a temporary waiting room. Christ has conquered death, and this story is our signed, sealed, and delivered guarantee of that fact.

Finally, we have a mission. "Unbind him, and let him go." The church is a community of stone-rollers and grave-clothes-removers. When God brings new life to someone, our job is to come alongside them, to patiently and lovingly help them get free from the habits of the old life. We are to teach them, encourage them, hold them accountable, and help them learn to walk in the newness of life that Christ has given. We are not the source of the life, but we are the designated unbinders. This is the glorious and messy work of Christian community.