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Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
A story is told of the late Brooke Foss Westcott, biblical scholar, theologian, and Bishop of Durham. He was once approached on a train by a young revivalist eager to evangelize. Seeing Westcott’s clerical collar, she asked boldly, “Sir, are you saved?”
Westcott, without condescension and with characteristic precision, folded his newspaper and replied, “That depends. Do you mean so-theis, sodz-o-me-nos, or so-thei-sei?”
The young woman blinked.
Westcott continued, “If you mean so-theis (the aorist tense, a completed act) then yes, wondrously so. If sodz-o-me-nos (present tense) I am being saved, more than yesterday, less than tomorrow. But if so-thei-sei (future passive) I shall be saved, not yet.”
There is no record of whether the young woman was helped or horrified by this lesson drawn from the grammar of faith. But his answer was biblical. And his point was pastoral. Salvation is not a moment; it is a movement. It is not just an event in the past, but a reality unfolding in the present, and a promise secured for the future.
Jesus’ words to Martha at the grave of her brother Lazarus invite us to consider that same mystery.
Let’s set the scene.
Lazarus is dead. Four days dead. The house of mourning is full, the air thick with grief, and the ache of “too late” hangs over everything. When Jesus arrives, Martha runs to him with the bitter honesty of the bereaved: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
There’s no rebuke in her tone, just the ache of loss and the unspoken question that so often follows tragedy: Where were you?
Jesus does not begin with an explanation. He begins with a revelation:
“I am the resurrection and the life.”
Note what Jesus does not say. He does not say, I bring resurrection, or I will cause life. No, He is resurrection. He is life. Resurrection is not a theological concept or a future hope disconnected from the present. It is personal. It has a name. Resurrection and life are not merely doctrines to be affirmed. They are a Person to be known.
This is the good news: eternal life is not just what Jesus gives, it is who He is. Which is why belief in Him does not merely result in resuscitation or extended days, but transformation.
Jesus then gives this paradoxical promise:
"Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die."
So which is it? Shall he live or shall he never die? Yes.
In Christ, death is no longer the end. For the believer, physical death becomes a doorway, not a dead end. It is a passage into the nearer presence of God. “Though he die, yet shall he live.” But even before that final breath, something has already begun. The one who lives and believes in Christ has already passed from death to life (John 5:24). Life eternal is not only future, it is now.
Jesus is saying: If you are in me, then death cannot hold you, and life has already begun to take hold of you.
And then comes the question.
“Do you believe this?”
It is not rhetorical. It is personal. Directed first at Martha, but meant for you, for me. Do you believe this?
Not: do you attend church?
Not: do you try to be a good person?
Not: do you admire Jesus’ moral teaching?
But: Do you believe that He is resurrection? Do you trust that He is life?
Because everything hinges on your answer.
When Jesus spoke these words, Lazarus was still in the grave. The stone still sealed the tomb. But the promise had already been made. And moments later, with a voice like thunder and a love stronger than death, Jesus would cry out: “Lazarus, come out!” And the man four days dead walked.
It was a miracle. Yes. But it was also a signpost.
Because not long after, Jesus Himself would die. And He would be laid in a borrowed tomb. But on the third day, He would rise; not just to restore life, but to conquer death. And in His resurrection, He becomes the pledge and pattern of ours.
As Paul would later write: “Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20).
So, what is our hope?
It is not wishful thinking or sentimentalism. It is not simply life after death. It is Christ. Christ in us, the hope of glory.
Christ with us, in the valley of the shadow. Christ for us, as our ransom and righteousness. Christ ahead of us, risen and reigning.
Friends, when the stone is rolled away from your life and mine, it will not be our good works or good intentions that will bring us out of the grave. It will be His voice, calling us by name.
So again the question stands: Do you believe this?
Archbishop Steve Wood
Primate of the Anglican Church in North America (ACNA)
