The Voice of Love Part 3 - Jesus Cries for Us

In January of 2006, I got my first hunting dog.  Hank came to me for free through a friend of my sister-in-law.  I was excited about my first hunting dog, but admittedly I wasn’t real excited at first that I ended up with Hank.  When we went to look at the litter of 10 lab puppies, my daughter Anna who was just shy of 5 at the time, picked Hank because he had a white chevron on his chest – the only one of the litter with such a mark.  He was the runt of the litter.  Friendly enough, but certainly not outgoing or gregarious.  Despite reservations about what kind of hunting dog he would become, I caved and we chose him.

I got my hands on a couple of books about training hunting dogs, and began to work with Hank when he was just 8 weeks old.  One of my first and greatest successes with Hank was teaching him to fetch the newspaper at the end of our driveway every morning.   I wasn’t a very good duck hunter the first couple of years I took Hank out, so it wasn’t until he was almost 2 years old that he actually retrieved his first game.  Hank became a great waterfowl retriever and wasn’t too shabby at flushing and retrieving pheasants either. 

Hank was more than a dog to me.  He was a hunting companion and even became a friend.  I got so much enjoyment and pleasure in hunting with Hank and watching him work, that deer hunting – something that had been one of my top passions – took a back seat to duck hunting.  If I couldn’t hunt with Hank, hunting just wasn’t as much fun.

In the fall of 2010, Hank got Lyme Disease.  Deer ticks are rampant in our part of Pennsylvania, and despite consistent use of topical anti-tick treatments, he got it.  We missed most of duck season that year as he recovered from the lameness and lethargy associated with Lyme Disease in dogs.  We had a couple of more great seasons of hunting together and then last summer, his Lyme Disease flared with a vengeance. 

By the time his symptoms appeared, it was too late to do anything for him, although the vet had given him IV antibiotics and fluids for a day.  The next day, the vet called with the results of his blood work – Hank was in total kidney failure. We could change his diet to eliminate protein and make things easier on his kidneys.  There were medicines and other things we could use to prolong his life by weeks, maybe a few months.  But Hank was born to hunt and he was miserable.  As Hank laid on our living room floor in obvious misery, I made arrangements with the vet to bring him in later that day to be put down.  It was June 28^th, and Hank was only 7 years old.

I have never cried harder or longer or from the depths of my guts than I did on that day.

Those of you that have, or have had, pets that you’ve loved know the feeling.  Until I had Hank and spent so much quality time with him, I would have LOL’d at what I just wrote above.  But all of us will, if we haven’t already, experience the sting of death and taste its bitterness when it comes to somebody, or something, that we love. 

Think for a moment if you will, about the tears of sadness, hurt and pain that you’ve shed throughout your life for whatever reason.  What we’ll find more often than not is that our tears flow because of love. 

In Monday’s blog, I mentioned a great resource – The LazarusLife by Stephen Smith – that really helps us to understand the process of spiritual transformation.  In the story of Lazarus in John 11 – and really it’s the story of our own hearts as well – Stephen Smith dedicates an entire chapter to what it means to hear the Voice of Love calling our name.  In the 3 or 4 times that I’ve read this book, I’ve really come to love and appreciate how we see and hear the love of Jesus for us and our own hearts in this story.  One of the ways that we see and hear the love of Jesus for us is in his emotional reaction when he arrives on the scene and sees the hurt and pain in the family and friends of Lazarus as they mourn the death of the one they love. 

The story of Lazarus shows us that Jesus is not indifferent to the pain and brokenness in our own hearts and lives. 

It’s hitting a little closer to home today for many of us that live in the Pittsburgh area.  News broke early this morning of a student at a local high school that went on a rampage with a knife and starting stabbing his classmates, teachers and administrators.  As I write this shortly before noon, we can be thankful that so far there have been no fatalities in this attack.  A few serious injuries have been reported, but so far all of the victims appear to be in stable to fair condition.  When things like this happen, the first thought for many of us is, “Where is God in all of this?”  We can debate and wonder about the “why” but Scripture and the story of Lazarus remind us that God is in the midst of our pain and suffering and that he is moved by it.

In v.33, John tells us that when Jesus saw the anguish of those who gathered to mourn Lazarus’ death, “. . . he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”   V.35, the shortest verse in the Bible, simply says, “Jesus wept.” 

Those who were gathered saw the love of Jesus in his reaction.  V. 36 tells us, “Then the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’”  But still others said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying.” 

Two different groups of people experiencing the same thing and seeing the same response from Jesus came away with two totally different understandings of Jesus.  One group saw the depth of his love for Lazarus.  The other group said, essentially, “He doesn’t care.”  This is the choice we are faced with as we struggle against the lie of self-rejection as we try to hear Jesus’ Voice of Love.  Either he loves us fiercely, like he loved Lazarus and Lazarus’ family and friends or he doesn’t care. 

We’ll get to the rest of the story of Lazarus tomorrow, when the Voice of Love called Lazarus out of the tomb.  But today, let me challenge you to settle here on the reaction of Jesus.  Do you think He sees your hurt and pain and is moved by it?  Even moved to the point of grief and tears.  Or do you think He doesn’t care?

I believe that Jesus’ tears and anguish weren’t for himself.  I believe that they were for his friends that hurt.  I believe that Jesus was deep moved and troubled and that he wept because of His great love for his friends.  And I believe that he is still as moved today by our hurt and pain as He was on this day. As we continue to “Fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith . . .” fix your eyes on the cross.  The story of Lazarus points to it and his great love for us.  The cross reminds us that Jesus wasn’t just moved by sin, death and brokenness, but it reminds us that he did something about it.