Rage against the dying of the light
‘When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled… Jesus was still angry as he arrived at the tomb, a cave with a stone rolled across its entrance.’ — John 11:33, 38
‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’ — Dylan Thomas, Do not go gentle into that good night
It’s a question as old as human existence:
Why does a good God seem to allow suffering?
People sometimes talk about this so-called ‘problem of suffering’ as if it’s some abstract philosophical conundrum. An intellectual itch that can’t be scratched. A logical square that can’t be circled.
But you and I both know that suffering isn’t just abstract. Suffering is deeply personal.
It’s our loved one on the cancer ward. It’s the sudden death of a close friend. It’s a broken marriage. It’s long-term depression and it’s a fractured wrist and it’s terminal illness and it’s the life-altering car accident.
It’s what happens to us—and it’s the terrible things we see in the fallen world around us. Flesh-eating parasites. Flesh-tearing weaponry. Poverty. War. Hunger. Exploitation. Corruption.
Even if someone came up with an intellectual ‘solution’ to the problem of suffering, it wouldn’t do much to help us navigate the experience of suffering.
It wouldn’t provide us with comfort and courage to stand in the face of the suffering and evil we encounter in our lives each day.
That’s why I love the Bible.
God’s Word doesn’t just offer us an easy answer to suffering and death. It doesn’t just provide us with an intellectual solution about why a good God seems to allow bad things to happen.
It reveals a God who rages against death, who understands our suffering intimately, and who stepped into our world to defeat the power of sin and evil, finally and forever.
“Lazarus, come out!”
In John 11, Jesus hears that his close friend Lazarus, who lives in the town of Bethany, is sick.
You might expect Jesus to immediately travel to heal His friend. Instead, Jesus chooses to remain where He is for two days longer—and Lazarus dies.
When Jesus finally arrives in Bethany, Lazarus has been in the tomb for four days (John 11:17).
In the events that follow, we see three realities about Jesus that provide us with hope, comfort and courage in our own suffering: His resurrection power, His rage at death, and His victory over sin.
1. Jesus’ resurrection power
When Jesus arrives in Bethany, He is first confronted by Lazarus’ sister Martha.
She is grieving the loss of her brother, disappointed that Jesus didn’t come sooner—but, remarkably, she is still full of faith and trust in Him: “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask” (John 11:21–22).
Jesus answers her: “Your brother will rise again” (John 11:23).
In response, Martha affirms the Jewish understanding that Lazarus would rise again with the righteous on the last day.
She knows the correct theological response—but it probably provides her with very little consolation in her grief. Why couldn’t Jesus have come sooner and healed her brother?
Jesus replies with these incredible words: “I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying. Everyone who lives in me and believes in me will never ever die. Do you believe this, Martha?” (John 11:26).
Jesus doesn’t provide Martha with a philosophical answer to the problem of her suffering. He doesn’t offer her his best wishes or vague condolences. He doesn’t even, in this moment, offer Martha the thing she thought she wanted most—to raise her brother back to life.
Even if Jesus did raise Lazarus there and then—which He will do a few verses later—her brother would one day die again of disease or old age.
Jesus knows that Martha needs a firmer, more robust foundation for her hope: “I am the resurrection and the life.”
Jesus reminds Martha that He isn’t just a miracle worker who dispenses healing here and there. He is the author of life. He is the champion over sin and death. He is the only way to eternal life.
If we are in Him, physical death no longer needs to fill us with fear. Dying is not the end—it is merely the transition from our temporary life in this fallen world, to eternal life sharing in the love, joy and glory that the Son has shared with His Father for all time.
Right now, Martha didn’t just need to see the miraculous resurrection of her brother—she needed to understand the foundation of her true hope.
This encounter reminds me of the wonderful affirmation in the Heidelberg Catechism:
‘Q. What is your only comfort in life and death?
A. That I am not my own, but belong with body and soul, both in life and in death, to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ.’
But Jesus does more than just present Martha and her grieving family with theological truth, as we will see next. He shows His rage at death—and His victory over it.
2. Jesus’ rage at death
Next, Jesus encounters Lazarus’ other sister, Mary.
Mary falls at Jesus’ feet and confronts Jesus with exactly the same sentiment as Martha does: “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:32).
When Jesus sees Mary’s grief, and the mourning of those around her, He is moved—not just to sadness, but to anger:
‘…a deep anger welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled. “Where have you put him?” he asked them.’ — John 11:33—34
Jesus—God incarnate—doesn’t just look dispassionately on at the suffering He sees around Him. He isn’t an ‘unmoved mover’, as some philosophers have described God. He isn’t apathetic to our pain and grief.
Jesus is angry—angry at the death of His friend, and angry at the stranglehold of sin, death and evil on His good world.
Jesus’ response remind me of the evocative words of Dylan Thomas in his famous poem, Do not go gentle into that good night: ‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’
At the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus—the Light of the World—rages against the darkness that lays claim to His world. He hates it. He will do everything to defeat it.
In our own suffering, we need to know the theological reality of our resurrection hope, as Martha did. But I also think we need to know how Jesus feels about our suffering.
He doesn’t just look down on us, impassive and stoney-faced. He isn’t apathetic. He is angry at the presence of sin, suffering and death in our lives. But He isn’t overcome by it. He is victorious over it—as we see in the final chapter of the story.
3. Jesus’ victory over sin
Jesus is still angry as He arrives at the tomb (John 11:38), where He orders that the stone be rolled aside.
It’s a dramatic showdown between the author of life and the great enemy of humanity—death.
Looking up to heaven, Jesus prays: “Father, thank you for hearing me. You always hear me, but I said it out loud for the sake of all these people standing here, so that they will believe you sent me” (John 11:42).
In other words, what Jesus was about to do wasn’t just for Lazarus’ sake, or Mary’s or Martha’s. It was for the sake of those watching on—it was for our sake—so that we would see His glorious power over death, and believe in Him.
Jesus shouts out, “Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:43)—and the dead man rises and comes out, dressed in his grave clothes.
With Martha, Jesus presents Himself as the resurrection and the life. With Mary, He shows His anger at death. At Lazarus’ tomb, He proves His power over it.
Our only comfort in life and death
It’s an amazing miracle story. Nothing like it had been seen in history. But, by itself, this episode doesn’t provide much hope.
Lazarus would grow old and die again. And, after all, Lazarus was just one man. What comfort does it offer the rest of us?
But we know this isn’t the end of the story. As Jesus stood at the mouth of Lazarus’ tomb, He was likely thinking of the fate awaited Him a few days later in Jerusalem.
The same crowds who followed Him, who saw His miraculous healing and hailed Him as King, would soon abandon Him.
Betrayed by His own people and handed over to the merciless Romans, Jesus would hang on a criminal’s cross.
There, He took upon Himself the curse of sin so that we could be freed from its sting. There, He didn’t just experience intense physical suffering—He suffered the unbearable weight of the world’s sin on His shoulders. Of our sin on His shoulders.
As He breathed His last, He would cry out: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Matthew 27:46).
Like Lazarus, His body would lie in a tomb, attended by His grieving friends who thought He was gone forever.
Three days later, He would rise again in the power of the Spirit—signalling that sin and death has been defeated once and for all, and proving that He really is “the resurrection and the life.”
We can only understand Lazarus’ story in light of Jesus’ death and resurrection. And, we can only understand our own suffering as we look to the cross.
In Jesus, we don’t see a God who coldly and apathetically watches our suffering. He doesn’t give us easy answers that offer no real comfort for our grief.
No. in Him we see a God who rages against death. He is a Friend who stands with us in our suffering. He is a Saviour who went to the cross to deliver us from our greatest enemy—sin. He is Heaven’s Champion, who has defeated death forever—and who freely gives us His resurrection life.
The Bible doesn’t present us with a philosophy in answer to our suffering, but a Person: Jesus Christ. He is our only comfort in life and death. He is our only hope.
Today, in your sorrow and suffering, look to Him again—and find comfort and courage to stand tall in this fallen world.
In Him,
Mike