Jesus Wept (Again)

Special Edition · Issue #1 · Holy Week · March 31, 2026

Most people know John 11:35. Two words: "Jesus wept." Easy verse to memorize for the Sunday school special.

But... take a look at the verses around it.

The Verse Everyone Knows

If you slow down in John 11, you see something that is easy to miss. The tears are not isolated.

They sit between two groans.

Verse 33. Jesus shows up, sees the weeping and the tomb, and John says he was "deeply moved in his spirit." The word is embrimaomai. It is not gentle sadness. It is a jolt. A shudder. Grief that carries anger in it.

Then verse 35. "Jesus wept." Tears. In public. No speech attached.

Then verse 38. Walking up to the tomb, embrimaomai again. Same word. Same wave. The grief hits him a second time.

That is the pattern. Groan. Tears. Groan.

The Son of God is not breezing through this scene. He is taking the hit.

He Knew the Ending

Here is the part that will not let me go. I know, we’ve had a sermon on John 11 and I posted a video on Facebook literally a few hours after the sermon, butI I just cannot shake this!

He knew.

He knew Lazarus was about to walk out. He knew the whole arc of the story before anyone touched the stone. He had set it up.

And he groaned anyway. He wept anyway.

Knowing the ending did not cancel the ache.

You have probably heard the "God has a plan" line in a hospital room or at a graveside. The way it often lands is, "If you understood the plan, it would not hurt this much." As if knowing the last page should numb you in the middle.

Jesus blows that up.

He stands at a grave, fully aware of what he is about to do, and he is shaking like death is an insult.

Because it is.

Death was never supposed to be here. Not at the end of a long life. Not in a split-second accident. Not in a NICU. Not anywhere.

Even a "temporary" death like Lazarus. Even one he is about to undo in five minutes.

The enemy is still the enemy. And it still makes him groan.

That tension lives in this story. And I do not think we are meant to tidy it up. We are meant to live with it.

The City and the Garden

John 11 is not the only time.

Holy Week.

Luke 19:41. Jesus wept... again. He comes over the hill, sees Jerusalem, and breaks down. This is not grief over a casket. It is grief over a whole city that had every chance, every prophet, every sign, and still chose not to see.

What does he do next?

He walks into the temple and starts throwing tables.

We like to separate those as two different moments. Sad Jesus. Angry Jesus. But they belong together. Same heart. Same grief. Tears in the street. Anger in the temple. The sorrow comes first. Then the whip.

Hebrews 5:7 takes us into Gethsemane. "Prayers and appeals with loud cries and tears." That is Scripture's phrase. Not quiet. Not polished. If you were nearby, you would have heard it.

Look where he is every time he weeps. At a tomb. Over a blind city. In a garden on the way to a cross.

Jesus’ tears redefine what it means to be God. I thought never he flinched. Calm. Powerful. Always composed. Above it all.

But tears remind us: He is sovereign. But he is not detached.

Not detached in John 11. Not on the road into Jerusalem. Not in Gethsemane.

He is never unmoved.

What the Tears Tell Us

The tears of Jesus are not mood or atmosphere for good story telling.

They are doctrine.

They tell you what kind of God you have. If you want to know God, you cannot skip the weeping. The tears are not filler. They are part of the gospel.

They are not weakness. They are proof. Proof that what hits you, hits him. Not like a stranger reading a headline. Like a father who takes it personally when his kid gets hurt.

God does not stand back and observe. He groans. He shudders. He weeps.

And then he moves.

He raises Lazarus. He clears the temple. He carries a cross and finishes the job.

I want God to fix it. He does. But in his own order.

The tears come first.

Before the resurrection. Before the temple is cleaned out. Before the theology notes get written.

There is a God who weeps. That is the part I keep trying to skip. I want to jump to the solution. I want Easter morning without Friday.

Jesus will not let me.

He will not let me fast-forward around the groaning. Because the groaning is not wasted time on the way to the miracle.

It is part of the way he works.

The groan comes before the miracle. Over and over.

The Tomb

It is Holy Week while I write this. I keep circling back to that sound at the tomb.

Embrimaomai. The groan before "Lazarus, come out."

There is a God who stood at his friend's grave, who felt in his own body what death had done, who wept over it, fully aware of what he was about to do next.

He knew. And he groaned anyway.

He did not dodge the grief. He stood there and let it land.

What kind of God groans at a grave he is about to open?

The kind you can trust when you are standing at your own, somewhere between verse 33 and verse 38.

Not at the happy ending.

In the middle.

From Pulpit to Page is a reflection from Pastor Mike and Red River Baptist Church.

This special holy week edition is for anyone who has ever believed God is unmoved by what moves them.