The Grace of Living Today
Today’s Gospel is the story of Lazarus. Jesus calls back a man who has already been laid in the tomb. Because this is such a well-known miracle story, we often think first of the ending: the moment when the dead man comes out again. But the Gospel of John does not take us there at once. It first leads us into sorrow. It brings us near those who stand before death.
Martha and Mary have lost someone they love. They are facing a reality that cannot be undone. What they need first is not an explanation, and not many words. They need someone who will stay with them in that place. That is where today’s Gospel begins.
When something unusual happens before our eyes, our attention quickly goes there. We notice what is striking. We pay attention to what surprises us. But the heart of today’s Gospel is not simply the visible result of the miracle. Before the miracle, the Gospel shows us Jesus in sorrow.
Before Jesus raises Lazarus, he first weeps. “Jesus began to weep.” These few words matter deeply. Jesus does not step around sorrow. When people stand before death, they often try to understand their grief. They try to find words of comfort for one another. But Jesus first weeps.
God is not one who stays far away and sends help from a distance. God does not simply look at our pain from the outside. The life God gives does not ignore our human sorrow. It is not empty comfort. It is not a life untouched by suffering.
So faith does not begin only after everything has been resolved. It does not begin only after every wound has healed. God is with us in that very place where sorrow still remains, where hearts are still hurting. Faith begins again there.
And then Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” These words are not only about the last day. Jesus does not simply speak about life. He comes among us as life itself. Where the Lord is present, life is not left as a promise for some far-off future. It begins here and now.
We often think of life simply as the opposite of death. We think first of breathing, moving, and staying alive. But the life spoken of in the Gospel is deeper than that. It is life made new in relationship with God. It is more than physical survival. It is the strength to rise again in God. It is the grace that enables us to keep going even when sorrow weighs on the heart.
The story of Lazarus is not only about a dead man being raised. It also shows us when life begins. Life is not only something given later. It has already entered our lives. Even when everything has not been solved, even when much is still unfinished, if the Lord is with us, life has already begun.
And yet we are often quick to respond to what is dramatic, while missing the meaning of what is quiet and ordinary. The same truth can look very different depending on where we meet it. In a special place, and at a special moment, people often recognize what is precious. But in an ordinary place, in a familiar day, in the repeated rhythm of life, we may fail to see what matters even more.
We long for some clear sign of grace. Sometimes we hope for one event that will change our lives all at once. Of course, God sometimes comes to us in unexpected ways. But more often, God meets us quietly, in familiar days,
1
in places we are likely to overlook. The problem is not that God is far away. The problem is that we do not always recognize the meaning of the place where we already stand.
We often live while waiting for some other day. When we are young, we think life will become better once this season passes. Later we think life will change once this one thing is achieved. At other times we tell ourselves that once this trouble passes, once this burden is lifted, then we will finally begin to live. And so we keep looking toward a day that has not yet come.
But when we look back, we begin to see that our lives were not made only of a few special moments. Most of life was made of ordinary days. A simple meal. A conversation over a cup of tea. A road we walked many times. The people who stayed beside us. The turning of the seasons. The repeated rhythm of daily life. These are the things that make a life. Very often we understand this only later. Life was not found only in the special days we were
waiting for. It was also there in the many days we passed by without much thought.
The only time actually given to us is today. The past is already gone, and the future has not yet come. We always live this one day. God meets us now. God gives life now. So today is not just another passing day. It is the time when the grace of God touches our lives.
That is why living one day is never a small thing. Doing what must be done. Enduring even in sorrow. Noticing a small joy. Speaking to someone. Cherishing the people near us. Quietly carrying the work given to us. None of this is merely routine. It is life lived with God.
We keep looking for what is special. But even if miracles are rare, life is given to us every day. What is precious does not come only in dramatic ways. Very often it is already before us in familiar places.
Some years ago, a world-famous violinist played in a busy subway passage during the morning rush hour, without telling people who he was. Most people walked past without stopping. Only a few paused for a moment to listen. It was not because the music was poor. It was because people did not expect to meet beauty in such a place. It was not a concert hall. There was no stage, no special lighting, no setting people had been taught to notice. And so
they passed by the beauty before them.
We look for visible miracles and clear changes, yet we may pass by the Lord who is with us in the place of tears. We may fail to see the grace given in a quiet day, the strength that helps us endure, the love that holds us together so that we do not fall apart. But this is where the Gospel begins: the Lord weeping at the tomb, and the Lord speaking life in that same place. That Lord is with us today.
For this reason, Christian faith cannot be a faith that looks only to the distant future. We wait for the fullness of the resurrection. But that waiting does not empty out today. It teaches us to live today more deeply. It teaches us to trust that the life of God has already begun here and now.
So what we should seek is not only a special miracle. We should ask for eyes to see the life already given to us. We should ask for a heart that can see that this place, too, is God’s place. Even if things are not complete, even if some burdens still remain, we are called to trust that this day is not empty in God.
God does not give us only special moments. God gives us repeated days. And God is with us in them. To live today, to endure today, and to receive today in faith—this too is a life held in grace.
Amen.
2