God extends a continuous invitation to witness His work in the world. This call is not only for moments of joy and triumph but also for times of deep sorrow and pain. We are welcomed to observe both the breathtaking beauty of creation and the raw reality of human suffering. To come and see is to engage with life as it truly is, trusting that God is present in all of it. This simple phrase opens a door to a deeper relationship with the divine. [11:57]
The next day again John was standing with two of his disciples, and he looked at Jesus as he walked by and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. Jesus turned and saw them following and said to them, “What are you seeking?” And they said to him, “Rabbi” (which means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and you will see.” So they came and saw where he was staying, and they stayed with him that day, for it was about the tenth hour. (John 1:35-39 ESV)
Reflection: When you consider your own life, what is one situation—whether a moment of joy or a season of grief—that you feel invited to bring before God with the simple prayer, “Come and see this”?
Jesus does not stand at a distance from our pain but enters directly into it. When confronted with the tomb of a loved one, He does not offer easy answers or quick fixes. Instead, He weeps alongside those who mourn, sharing in the depth of their sorrow. His presence sanctifies our grief, assuring us that we are not alone in our darkest moments. God’s heart breaks alongside ours, offering the profound comfort of shared tears. [28:31]
Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. And he said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept. (John 11:32-35 ESV)
Reflection: Who in your life is currently walking through a season of loss, and how might you simply sit with them in their sorrow, reflecting Christ’s compassionate presence without feeling the need to provide solutions?
Faith often calls us to trust God in situations that appear completely beyond hope. It requires obedience even when the outcome seems certain to fail, or even to bring discomfort. Like those asked to roll away a stone from a four-day-old tomb, we are called to move forward despite the fear of what might be revealed. This trust is an act of defiance against despair, believing that God specializes in impossible scenarios. [31:38]
Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” (John 11:39-40 ESV)
Reflection: What is one “stone” in your life or community that God might be asking you to roll away, even though you are apprehensive about the potential mess or smell on the other side?
The miracle of new life often requires our participation. After Jesus called Lazarus forth, He instructed the community to unbind him and set him free. We are invited to be active agents in God’s work of restoration, helping to remove the grave clothes of grief, trauma, and isolation from others. Our simple, practical acts of love are a vital part of ushering in the new life God promises. [32:42]
The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” (John 11:44 ESV)
Reflection: Who in your circle is stepping into new life but may still need help removing the remnants of a past struggle, and what is one practical way you can assist in that “unbinding” process this week?
The Christian life involves planting seeds of hope even when there is no visible sign of life. It is an act of faith to place something dried up and seemingly dead into the ground, trusting in a power greater than our own understanding. We plant not because we are guaranteed a bloom, but because we believe in a God who brings life from dust. This is the bold, hopeful work of living in the tension between the already and the not yet. [33:43]
He said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear.” (Mark 4:26-28 ESV)
Reflection: What is one “dried-up bulb” you feel called to plant this week—a small act of love, hope, or faith that you can do without any assurance of the outcome?
The Gospel of John frames an invitation to "come and see" that runs through both wonder and sorrow. The narrative places Mary, Martha, and Lazarus at its center: Lazarus has died, and the community reels with grief. The invitation here asks witnesses not only to behold miracles but to enter into the hard places—to come and see the tomb, the tears, the rawness of loss. Jesus moves into that grief, stands at the tomb, and weeps, modeling a God who enters pain rather than bypassing it.
A simple, personal image—daffodil bulbs pressed until they nearly crumble—acts as a metaphor for faith. Planting those brittle bulbs becomes an act of trust in unseen life, mirroring the gospel’s claim that God works in darkness and dust. The text refuses easy answers: grief and hope coexist. Even after a bold command to roll away the stone and a miraculous call for Lazarus to come out, restoration remains communal work. The crowd must unbind him; the community participates in resurrection by loosening the wrappings and helping life begin again.
Presence and participation anchor practical faith in this account. Showing up at gravesides, bringing meals, bearing witness to pain, and doing everyday neighborly tasks all count as rolling away stones. The congregation’s call asks for a willingness to face smells and messes, to walk toward fear, and to do hard, humble work that makes resurrection visible. The text balances “not yet” and “already”: sorrow and new life appear side by side—four funerals and six baptisms within a short season—so living fully requires inhabiting both realities.
The narrative issues an invitation to keep planting where hope feels unlikely, to trust God’s capacity to breathe life into what seems irreparably dead, and to participate actively in God’s restorative work. The moral center insists that divine action often includes human accompaniment: God comes close in sorrow, and people unbind the newly restored. The call concludes with a simple, persistent challenge—to keep planting, keep showing up, and keep trusting that God can bring life from dust.
This phrase has been used as an invitation to witness God's glory throughout the gospel of John, but here it is different. It is an invitation to witness pain. Come and see our tomb. Come and see our sorrow. Come and see us in our world as it is. And Jesus goes, Walking to the graveyard standing with her in her grief, he weeps.
[00:28:10]
(31 seconds)
#ComeAndSeeGrief
And Lazarus does come out, still wrapped in his death linen, still bound by trauma from the last week. But somehow, someway beyond our comprehension, Lazarus stands before him no longer dead but alive. And yet the restoration of Lazarus is not over yet. There is still work to do. Unbind him, Jesus will declare. And notice that Jesus doesn't do that unbinding. It is the community at work.
[00:32:09]
(35 seconds)
#CommunityUnbinds
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