"Lord, If Thou Hadst Been Here" - Becoming Whole

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the story of The Raising of Lazarus. It's a beautiful and amazing miracle. And while some think it is simply a nice biblical allegory, I believe it really happened.

In a talk April 2023, Elder W. Mark Bassett spoke of the story of Lazarus, and had some cool insights. He talked about how in the process of performing the miracle, the Savior asked followers to do what they could do, and then He did what only He could do. For example, Jesus requested that those present move the stone from the grave. They could do this. 

Jesus next expressed gratitude to His Father, which I believe is instructive for all of us. Gratitude opens the windows of heaven. And expressing gratitude to God is something else we can do ourselves. 

And then, Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, as only He could do. He commanded Lazarus (or "Laz" as the Chosen calls him) to come forward.  And Laz obeyed.  

Then He asked Lazarus's loved ones to help remove his grave bandages. And their fear turned to wonder. 

What a joyful scene this must have been!

The reminder that the Lord asks us to do what we can do, and then we look to Him to do what only He can do, has made me think about my Long Covid journey. What are those things that I can do to improve my health? And what things do I need to leave in His hands?

My favorite part of the entire chapter of John 11 is verse 5, which reads, "And Jesus loved Martha, and her sister [Mary], and Lazarus." I believe that all of our stories can start that way. 

"And Jesus loved Christy... and Chad..." and so on. 

But Him loving us doesn't translate into a stress-free life. He loved Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. And yet tragedy struck. 

"Lord, if thou hadst been here..." both grief-stricken sisters say to Him, when he finally showed up on the 4th day. "Where were you, and why did this happen, if you love us?" and "Why didn't you come sooner?" was the unspoken, heart-wrenching question. 

We all have those moments.

Yet Martha still met Him on the road when she heard he had come. She was in anguish, and He was too late, but she still exerted the initiative and energy (and, quite possibly, charity despite disappointment) required to go meet Him. I love that example. 

Do I go to meet Him? Even when I'm thinking, "Where have you been?"

My aunt and uncle asked me a few weeks ago to share some thoughts as we studied Paul's teachings about the Lord being with us in difficult times. I have so many different thoughts and emotions tumbling around in my mind, and it's hard to crystallize them all.

I have been learning a lot of truths over the past 2 1/2 years. One that is glaringly obvious is that I am NOT a patient person by nature. And while Long Covid has brought a lot of insights and a lot of growth, I do not yet feel like I am on the mountaintop, looking down with a clear perspective. I'm still trudging along I-80.

But I absolutely recognize that the Lord has sent heavenly help through all of this. His hand is seen in different ways... sometimes through a new insight; sometimes through the kind actions and words of others; sometimes with a reminder that I can still serve and help others despite my limitations; sometimes simply with peace. I try to record how I have seen the Hand of the Lord at the end of each day. Having that record reminds me of His tender care and that He is not an impartial observer.

But one thing that I have realized, to a much greater degree than before, is that the Savior is not a magic wand. He is a companion on the journey. When Jesus was on the earth, with only one or two exceptions, he didn't teleport himself from place to place. He walked the dusty roads alongside His followers. He camped on the hard ground and endured the elements. He worked to put up tents, find and cook food, and all of the other mundane and sometimes uncomfortable tasks, alongside everyone else.

And with my personal journey, I've realized He is walking alongside me, even on the most difficult paths. He doesn't just magically whisk me onto a Nimbus 2000 to skip the hard parts. (Is it sacrilege to combine Harry Potter and Jesus? Hopefully, no.) The point is, the key element that makes things easier to navigate is NOT that the setting changes. It's that when we are yoked with Him, we benefit from His strength, His power, His direction. We can't access those things if He is just cheering us on from a distance. 

I've thought a lot about what it means to be yoked with the Lord, and how I can choose to be so. What does that look like for me? And, once I am, how I can be submissive and not continually yank against the yoke saying, "No, I want to go THIS direction!" or "I really think your navigation must be off..."

My illness has increased my desire to be yoked to Him, and has reminded me that I need Him. (Every hour I need Him.) Because everything is better and easier and more joyful when He is near my side.

But it's a work in progress. My health is a work in progress. My life is a work in progress!

The oratorio Lamb of God, by Rob Gardner, has a song that Martha sings, that speaks to how I feel. She pleads,

Yea, Lord: I believe that Thou art the Christ, which should come

The Son of God

But I do not understand...

Touch my eyes and bid them see

That my gaze might pierce the veil

And behold the wondrous scene

That, in dreams, I've long beheld

Oh, touch my heart and bid it know

That ev'ry sorrow here

Is but a moment's tear

And Thou wilt make me whole again

Touch my ears and bid them hear

All the glory of Thy truth

That my hope might come of faith

And no more require proof

Oh, touch my heart and bid it know

That, while in darkness here

The light is ever near

And Thou wilt make me whole again

Then touch my lips and bid them sing

Songs of everlasting praise

That my soul might then believe

And give thanks through all my days!

Oh touch my heart and bid it know

That ev'ry breath I take

Is by Thy tender grace

And Thou wilt make me whole

And Thou wilt make me whole

Oh, Thou wilt make me whole again.

("Make Me Whole", Lamb of God, by Rob Gardner)

Here's to becoming whole!