DID YOU KNOW
Our daily confession is that God is powerful. We sing it. We teach it. We tell others to trust it. Yet Scripture gently reveals that sometimes we do not fully grasp the extent of what we claim to believe until we stand in the middle of a trial. The readings from Numbers 1–2, John 11, and Psalm 2 pull back the curtain on both the power and the glory of God. They invite us to reconsider what we mean when we say, “God is able.”
Did you know that God sometimes arranges circumstances to reveal a greater glory than we would have chosen for ourselves?
In John 11, Jesus deliberately delays His arrival after hearing that Lazarus is sick. The disciples misunderstand His language about sleep and death. Mary and Martha both say, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21, 32). Their statement is filled with faith, yet it is also bounded by limitation. They believe Jesus can prevent death, but they do not yet see that He can conquer it. Jesus had already told His disciples, “This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God” (John 11:4). The Greek word for glory, doxa, carries the idea of revealed splendor. The delay was not neglect; it was preparation for revelation.
Trials often feel like divine silence. We wonder why God did not intervene sooner. Yet Jesus knew precisely what He was doing. His timing was not accidental; it was purposeful. Before He raised Lazarus, He asked Martha a deeply personal question: “Do you believe this?” (John 11:26). The miracle was not only about restoring Lazarus; it was about expanding their understanding of who He is. Sometimes the greatest display of God’s power emerges from the very place where hope seemed buried.
Did you know that Jesus does not merely manage life—He is the source of it?
When Jesus declares, “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25), He is not offering comfort alone. He is making a claim of divine identity. The phrase “I am” echoes the covenant name revealed in Exodus 3:14. He is identifying Himself with the eternal God. Resurrection is not merely an event; it is embodied in Christ. He does not borrow power from heaven; He possesses it inherently. Death itself becomes a stage for His authority.
The crowd standing at the tomb asked, “Was not this man who opened the eyes of the blind able…?” (John 11:37). Their question reveals a common struggle. We measure God’s power by past experiences rather than by His revealed nature. Yet Psalm 2 reminds us that earthly opposition never threatens divine sovereignty: “He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh” (Psalm 2:4). God is not scrambling to maintain control. He reigns. When Jesus calls Lazarus from the grave, it is not merely compassion—it is cosmic authority in action.
Did you know that God’s order and sovereignty are displayed even in what appears ordinary?
Numbers 1–2 may seem distant from John 11, yet they frame our understanding of divine power. Israel is counted, arranged, and positioned around the tabernacle with precision. Every tribe has a place. Every banner is assigned. God is not chaotic. His glory rests at the center of His people. The census and camp formation reveal divine intentionality. What appears administrative is actually theological. God orders His people because He dwells among them.
In the same way, the raising of Lazarus was not an isolated display of emotion; it was a deliberate revelation of divine authority within history. The God who arranged Israel’s camp also orchestrated the timing at Bethany. Sovereignty is not cold control; it is purposeful guidance. Even when circumstances appear disordered, God’s glory remains central.
Did you know that belief in Christ transforms how we face death itself?
Jesus’ words stretch beyond Lazarus’ tomb. “The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live” (John 11:25). The promise is not merely temporary restoration; it is eternal life. The Greek verb pisteuo (to believe) implies ongoing trust, not momentary agreement. Faith is not intellectual assent; it is relational reliance. When we believe in Christ, we anchor ourselves to the One who has authority over both life and death.
Psalm 2 concludes with a tender invitation: “Blessed are all they that put their trust in him” (Psalm 2:12). The Hebrew word chasah means to take refuge. Faith is refuge-taking. It is leaning fully into the sovereignty and goodness of God. Martha’s confession grows stronger as the chapter unfolds. What began as limited expectation matures into deeper trust. That is the journey of discipleship. Trials refine what we thought we knew and draw us into greater confidence in who Christ truly is.
As you reflect on these Scriptures, consider this: Where have you limited your understanding of God’s power? Have you believed He could intervene before the crisis but doubted He could redeem after it? Have you acknowledged His glory in theory yet hesitated to trust Him in practice? The resurrection at Bethany was not only about Lazarus; it was about revealing the heart of God to those who stood in grief.
Perhaps today you are facing a situation that feels beyond repair. Remember that Jesus does not merely sympathize with loss; He commands life. He may not answer in the timing you expect, but His purposes are never empty. The God who orders nations, who reigns above rulers, and who calls the dead from their graves is attentive to your story.
Let this truth settle deeply within you: the power and the glory belong to Him, and His glory is most clearly revealed when hope seems weakest. The tomb is not the end of the narrative when Christ is present.
Take a moment today to ask yourself the same question Jesus asked Martha: Do you believe this? Let your answer shape how you face both joy and sorrow. Trust Him not only before the crisis but within it.
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