From the Artist

Jesus’ humanity is apparent in this narrative. Here is a greatly disturbed man convincing himself of God’s providence as he bears guilt and grieves the loss of his close friend: “I thank you for having heard me. I knew you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here so that they may believe that you sent me” (John 11:42). Or so that I may believe, I imagine Jesus thinking.

I imaged Jesus in sorrowful hues, tearfully imploring his friend to come out, while the crowd bears down on his shoulders. Perhaps things got too real. Did he feel the creeping chills of his own fate while standing at the mouth of the tomb? Did he feel responsible?

Jesus seems bound by the weight of his divinity and the demands of his ministry. “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you”(John 11:8). “Lord if you had been there, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21, 32). “Could not this man who opened the blind man’s eyes, have done something to keep Lazarus from dying?” (John 11:37). I wonder if as Jesus exclaims, “Unbind him, and let him go,” he thinks to himself, “Who will unbind me?”

No matter our vocation, we can find comfort that even Jesus felt overwhelmed by the gravity of his call. When we stumble under this great weight, God strains and weeps with us, but also longs for us to be set free from the pressure. God accompanies us with open hands, ready to unbind us as we learn to lean in confidence on God’s provision. We’ve got to be unbound in order to release others from that which keeps us in spiritual death—that which obscures and steals abundant life.

—Lauren Wright Pittman