Can hope be resurrected?
One of the best parts of being a youth group leader is I get all the great youth group experiences with none of the drama or insecurities I felt when I was a student. It’s quite redemptive, and fun!
I just returned home from my sixth youth retreat as a leader. Over the years, some of the thrill of embracing camp life for a weekend has worn off; namely, the junk food and the utter exhaustion I now feel. The girls I have walked beside since middle school are now upperclassmen in high school and no longer have restless energy that needs taming. Instead, we have traditions established, like goofy chants, waking up to a good morning song, and line dancing on the boat dock to stay warm during the sunrise. The magic of these sweet moments will never wear off.
I am always blown away by how connected I feel, to leaders and students alike, after less than forty-eight hours together. There is power in the practice of “retreating”—in the intentionality of leaving behind routines, and the joy of spending time at a camp where the only priorities are being with one another and with God.
This year we studied the story of Jesus raising Lazarus in John 11. I had privilege of teaching on the interactions between Jesus and Martha in this chapter, specifically what we can learn from Martha. Here are a few things I learned.
First, we see Martha run to Jesus and tell him why she was disappointed: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21). I encouraged students that it’s right and good to be completely honest with Jesus, especially about our disappointments.
Second, we see Martha trust Jesus even though she doesn’t understand why circumstances played out the way they did. “But even now, I trust that whatever you ask of the Father he will do for you” (John 11:22). I recounted a story where I was deeply disappointed and hurt by the way a situation played out, knowing Jesus could have brought healing and redemption, but he didn’t. I remember weeping, saying, “Jesus, I don’t understand.” I didn’t understand, but I still trusted him. Where else could I go? Jesus was the only one who knew the depth of pain I felt and walked with me as the situation unfolded. Only Jesus could comfort and hold my heart, even if he chose not to answer my prayers as I expected he would.
In the midst of her pain and disillusionment at the death of her brother, Jesus asked Martha to confess who he is: “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God” (John 11:27). Martha gives Jesus her “yes” before she knows what he will do for her—the third point. Despite Jesus telling her that he would raise her brother, Martha did not understand what he meant. Nevertheless, she chose to turn her eyes off her circumstances, off her doubts, and believe that Jesus is who he says he is: “I AM the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25). Martha believed that because of who Jesus is, all would be well. She knew this would be true for eternity, but Jesus showed her that all would be well right now.
Ultimately, Jesus did what Martha hoped for: he healed her brother, and he did it in a more glorious way than she ever could have imagined. His delay in meeting Martha’s desire did not mean denial; it was done for a purpose greater than Martha could understand. Jesus allowed Lazarus to die, even to stay dead for four days until all hope was lost and grief struck in full force, and then he performed a miracle that shows not even death can stand against the power and authority of the word of God. The promise of resurrection does not just apply to our eternal lives (though that is a glorious gift in itself), but Jesus also has the power and desire to bring resurrection to the circumstances of our life right now.
I am humbled that I’m still having trouble grasping the lesson the Lord seems to be teaching me over and over the last several years. I have consistently made assumptions about what God should do for me, and each time end up deeply disappointed when it doesn’t happen. I did it again this morning: before I even left the retreat, I found myself distracted and discouraged by my assumptions about a situation that feels heavy and hopeless. Just yesterday morning I was in front of one hundred people encouraging students that situations that feel hopeless are exactly where Jesus meets us with his miracles and displays his glory! How can my faith change so quickly?
Today the doubts are swirling: what if I’m hoping for something that simply can’t, or won’t happen? Maybe I want the wrong things? Or perhaps Jesus can’t bring resurrection because I have desires I haven’t allowed to fully die? Am I saying yes to my plans, or to the person of Jesus, regardless of what he does for me?
Like I said, I’m humbled. I am being forced to practice the very thing I just preached: acknowledge my disappointment (that’s uncomfortable), turn my eyes off my circumstances (that’s hard), and trust Jesus even when it’s guaranteed he will NOT answer my prayers in the way I desire. Jesus is NOT a genie who will meet my expectations; he does NOT exist to serve my plans and my purposes. But Jesus DOES promise to be gentle with my heart as I name my emotions and surrender my desires to him. And he DOES promise to exceed my expectations by writing me a story more miraculous and glorious than I can hope for or imagine.
Last night when the temptation to doubt arose, I chose instead to scream the words of a Black Eyed Peas song as an epic glow stick dance party started: “Tonight’s gonna be a good night.” The spirit of heaviness was lifted as I danced my heart out with my youth girls and co-leaders in full freedom, joy, and abandon. Tonight I am choosing to believe it’s gonna be a good life. The heaviness I feel doesn’t get the final word, nor will the circumstances that feel challenging get the final word. Jesus gets the final word, and he has said he is working all things for good (Romans 8:28).
I’m believing that in the exact place I feel pain and longing, I will experience the hope and joy of the resurrection—not just when circumstances change, but right now, in the presence of Jesus.