The Said Dead Man, The Rhetorical Question, and Confessing the Sometimes

I'm coming to the close of my summer in the gospels (well, just Matthew and John, really) looking at questions that Jesus asked. It has been a spectacularly rewarding study.

And right now I'm camping out in one of my favorite stories in the Bible, looking at it through the fresh lens of how questions drive the narrative.

John 11 is the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. I have often thought that if I could choose just one chapter of the whole Bible to have for the rest of my life, it would be this one.

The story in brief: Jesus' friend Lazarus is sick. Jesus hears about it, waits a couple deliberate days. Lazarus dies. Jesus goes. Jesus has intense interactions with sisters of dead man. Jesus raises said dead man from grave.

There are four questions that Jesus asks in the story, I'm going to unpack each one over the next several posts as an excuse to revel in this passage a little bit more!

The first question is one of Jesus' favorite-type of questions: the rhetorical one.

Jesus hears about Lazarus' sickness, waits a couple days, then he announces to his disciples he's going back to Judea (where Lazarus is/was). His disciples freak out: the people there just tried to stone you, dude, you wanna' go back there?

Jesus replies: "Are there not twelve hours of daylight?" And he goes on: if you walk by day light you won't stumble, it's when you walk by night that you stumble because you don't have any light.

A typically esoteric response from Jesus (at least as John tells it), but the question it left me with the other day was clear enough: do I love to walk in the light? And honestly the answer is: sometimes.

Sometimes I love the light, I delight to not be stumbling, I delight to be able to see and follow Jesus into a situation with clear conscience, no mixed motives, no hidden agendas. Sometimes I am glad for the light.

But sometimes I have ideas, plans, schemes, hopes, or dreams that I'm not sure are the Lord's and I'm not sure that I want to find out. It's not always expedient to pray, listen, wait. And I'm not always sure I want to hear God's answer.

Sometimes, I prefer to stumble around in the darkness in the hopes of finding some sort of personal advantage or getting some gain or pleasure or accolade. Sometimes, I find myself clinging to the darkness and avoiding the light.

"Are there not twelve hours of daylight?"

Yes, Lord, there are.

"Do you walk in the light or do you walk in the darkness?"

Sometimes I love your light. And sometimes I confess that I avoid the light and walk in darkness.

"Those who walk during the day do not stumble....but those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them." (11:9 & 10)

O Lord, give me faith.