Plans, ambitions, hopes, visions, dreams — sometimes they shrivel, sometimes they die.

Until they die, they cannot produce new life and fruit.

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit” (John 12:24).

And yet, how bitter is that death!

So I hate it and I resist it. I avoid it and try to outwit it.

Strange? Well, natural, anyway.

May God bring life, fruit, and glory from these dead and buried (but still strongly cherished) seeds.

Lazarus died.

Because Jesus waited.

And twice, once from each sister, Jesus heard that Lazarus would not have died had He been there.

Martha, Mary, the people — crying.

When Jesus saw, He was deeply affected — “He was roiled in spirit, and was moved” (John 11:33, my translation from Spanish).

He knew He would cause life to triumph over death.

He knew the coming joy.

And still . . . .

“Jesus wept” (John 11:35).

He made their grief His own.

Does He relate to me differently?

No.