In just two words, we are given a glimpse of something spectacular.
Jesus knew his good friend Lazarus had died. I can only imagine the small band of men walking two days in near silence. Grief drapes their group like a low lying fog. They stop to eat and rest, never forgetting their destination. A place of shock and sorrow. A place of death.
Even from a distance they hear the mourners. An entire village lends their voice to create a symphony of despair and anguish. The silence of the last couple days is overtaken by the sound of heartbreak.
Lazarus has died and the village mourns.
As the sun reaches its pinnacle in the sky one afternoon, Jesus crests the hill and sees the company of sadness.
As he stood and watched the dejection and pain, tears rolled down his face.
A young man we know died today. He fought valiantly against a disease that sought to destroy him. In the midst of suffering, he showed humanity and empathy. (Read his story here.)
And now we weep. May our tears be counted by the Almighty. And may the tears that fall glisten with…