Published on 12/10/2007

Commentary

Two shootings yesterday have stunned us again. Tragedies at a missionary training center near Denver, Colorado, and at a megachurch in Colorado Springs are making national headlines. Today's New York Times describes the scene: "a day of high drama and gunfire, with bystanders running for cover, swarms of police officers rushing to the scenes, followed by lockdowns, evacuations, and a manhunt for the gunman who got away after the first attack." How does a pastor help his people at a time like that?

By turning to the true Pastor of the Church. Isaiah promised that the baby in Bethlehem would be our Wonderful Counselor and Mighty God, the One who would guide us and empower us (Isaiah 9:6). But such counsel and such power are very little good to us unless they are available to us. An exploding star is one of the greatest powers in the universe, but it's no help to me this morning.

So it is good news that this baby would also be our Everlasting Father. In the Hebrew, Isaiah promised us a "Father forever," one who is always a Father to us, one who forever loves us as only a father can. A Father who helps his children in the worst times of life. This week, let's watch the Christ of Christmas prove that Isaiah was right. Then we'll learn how his love can bring hope to every heart, whenever it hurts--including yours.

Our story begins badly. A brother and his sisters were among Jesus' best friends on earth. Their home in Bethany, just two miles east of Jerusalem, was his home whenever he was in the area. Martha cooked his meals; Mary sat at his feet in worship and later poured perfume on those feet and wiped them with her hair (John 12.3). And Lazarus was one of his closest friends and brothers in faith. But now he was dying. Jesus had already healed blind eyes, defeated demons, calmed storms, and fed multitudes. Now it was time for him to help his friend.

So his sisters knew just what to do--they called Jesus. But this one who had healed the sick wherever he went wouldn't come. This one who had slept in their home, eaten their food, shared their friendship wouldn't come. Even though he knew that Lazarus, left alone, would die, he wouldn't come.

So his friend grows weaker and weaker. Then he draws his last breath. Then his sisters mourn him; and embalm him; and bury him; and roll the stone over his tomb. And still he won't come. He has missed the illness, and the death, and the funeral. He could have come, but he didn't. Do you know how they felt? Let's continue tomorrow.