When the Bottom Falls Out

John 11:1-45; Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130 (March 22, 206)

Have you ever felt like your life has hit rock bottom? A phrase from the Scriptures really gets to the heart of what it feels like when things go wrong. It says: 'Help, God—the bottom has fallen out of my life!' We've all been there at some point, or maybe we're feeling that way right now. You might be juggling a lot in your life - family, work, health, and trying to stay calm and centered. But sometimes, no matter how hard you try, things start to fall apart. It's like holding a box filled with heavy items - it can only take so much before it breaks. And then everything falls out of control.

This is what the Bible calls the De profundis experience - a moment of deep crisis when we feel like we're drowning in problems. It's that feeling of being lost and overwhelmed, when all our plans have failed and the darkness seems to be closing in.

We see this desperation vividly in the story of the 33 Chilean miners who got trapped underground in 2010. For 17 days, it seemed like they were gone for good - buried 2,300 feet down in complete darkness. It was a living nightmare that made them wonder if anyone could hear their cries or even save them.

That's exactly what the Psalmist in Psalm 130 is talking about when he writes from a place of deep despair. And I want to reassure you: if you're feeling like you're trapped and alone, with no way out - you're not by yourself. In fact, it's in those darkest moments that we often turn to prayer and God for help.

Let's be realistic: life isn't always easy, and it's not all sunshine and rainbows. We go through ups and downs, just like the changing seasons. Even Jesus Himself, who is now in a place of peace, went through tough times on earth. He knew what it was to feel overwhelmed and desperate.

So if you're feeling down or stuck right now, don't think that means God has abandoned you. It's actually a sign that you're walking the same path as Jesus.

The problem is often our own pride - we struggle to admit just how lost we are. We live in a world that tells us we can fix everything on our own with hard work and positive thinking, but the truth is different.

We need to come to a place where we acknowledge that we're not capable of fixing things by ourselves. This might be hard to hear, but it's an important part of growing closer to God. The film The Dark Knight Rises shows this perfectly in a scene where the main character, Bruce Wayne, is trapped in a dark prison. He tries and fails over and over again to escape, still holding onto a safety rope. It's not until he lets go of that rope - accepting his true helplessness - that he finds the strength to make it out.

The lesson here is simple: we need to face our own limitations and weaknesses before we can move forward. It's okay to admit when we're in over our heads, because only then can we turn to God for real help.

We often hold onto things that we think will keep us safe, like our bank accounts or our reputation. But the truth is, these "safety ropes" can be our greatest obstacle to true faith. We need to let go of them and become helpless, just like a child, before we can truly turn to God.

When the bottom falls out, it's hard not to feel abandoned by God. We cry out for help, but sometimes it feels like He's ignoring us. So we grumble: "God isn't listening to me. I'm completely alone right now."

Yet, we are not the only ones who feel this way. Even Jesus' closest friends experienced this silence when they asked Him to heal their sick brother Lazarus. They sent a message to Jesus saying their brother was ill, trusting that His love would compel Him to come and help them.

But here's the surprising part: Jesus stayed two whole days after getting the message. Can you imagine how hard that must have been for Martha, Mary, and Lazarus? Waiting day after day for someone who could save their loved one, only to feel like they were being ignored.

This experience of feeling abandoned by God is not unique to ancient times or even biblical figures. Many people today, including the famous Mother Teresa, experienced a deep sense of God's silence in their lives. But what she and others have learned is that this silence isn't always about God's absence - it can be about His trust in us.

In fact, Oswald Chambers suggests that God's silence can actually be a sign of intimacy with Him. He asks if we've been trusted with a silence that is full of meaning?

If God is silent in your life today, it is not because He is indifferent. It is because He trusts you. He knows that you can handle a bigger revelation of Himself than you have ever known before. If Jesus had come immediately and healed Lazarus, they would have known Him as a Healer. But by waiting, by allowing them to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, He was preparing them to know Him as something far greater: "I am the resurrection and the life" (John 11:25).

So what do we do when God is silent? We wait - but not just passively. The Psalmist said it best: "My soul waits for the LORD more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning." (Psalm 130:6. GNT). Imagine being a sentinel on a city wall, waiting for the sun to rise after a long, cold night. You know it's coming, you just don't know when.

The Dutch people during World War II are a great example of this kind of waiting. They were living in constant darkness, but they kept "darkness diaries" and waited together for liberation. And then, one day, the sound of a hidden handbell rang out - a "Vesper of Hope". The community emerged from their cellars not as individuals, but as a united group that had waited together.

That's what we're called to do too: wait with intensity, knowing that redemption is coming. We're not just waiting passively; we're actively looking for the hope that will come. And when Jesus finally arrives in Bethany, He doesn't shy away from the death and decay around Him. Instead, He walks right into it - and begins to weep. “Jesus began to weep” (John11:35).

It's a powerful moment: Jesus enters the tomb where Lazarus' lifeless body lies, and He's overcome with emotion. It's a reminder that even when God seems silent, He's still working behind the scenes, preparing for His next move.

When Jesus wept over Lazarus' tomb, it wasn't just because He was sad about his friend's death - it was because He felt the weight of sin and death that had caused so much pain. But even in the midst of sorrow, He didn't leave us stuck in grief. Instead, He called us to action.

Standing before the tomb, Jesus said something amazing: "Take away the stone" (John 11:39). At first, Martha protests - she's worried about the mess and smell of it all. But Jesus insists that they need to take a step, no matter how small it seems.

Here's an important truth: God asks us to do what we can do, so He can do what only He can do. We can't bring people back from the dead, but we can roll away the stone of our own fears, cynicism, and unforgiveness.

Think of a geode - it looks like a dull rock on the outside, but inside, there's treasure waiting to be discovered. If the rock stays whole, the treasure remains hidden. But when the "bottom falls out" and we crack open our lives, the light of God can shine in and reveal all the beauty that's been hiding.

That's what Jesus is asking us to do: to push past our fears and failures, and let His light in.

When Jesus said "Lazarus, come out!" (John 11:43). and Lazarus emerged from his tomb, it was an amazing miracle - life came back to a place of death! But there was still more work to be done. The fact that Lazarus was wrapped in grave clothes showed that he was still bound by the trappings of his past.

That's where the community comes in. Jesus doesn't just give life, He also asks us to help one another heal and move forward. We all walk out of our tombs with emotional scars and old habits that hold us back. That's why we need each other - to peel away those layers and help one another be free.

Look at the example of Gold Star Families - they've lost loved ones in war, and they know what it's like to walk through that dark valley. But instead of running away from others who are struggling, they show up with love and compassion. They sit in silence with the new families, helping them untangle their emotions and find freedom.

That's what we're called to be as a church - not just givers of life, but also unwinders of grave clothes. We don't run away from the messiness of resurrection; instead, we step into it and help one another walk in freedom.

Perhaps you feel like those dry bones in Ezekiel’s valley (Ezekiel 37) today—dried up, hopeless, cut off. Or perhaps you feel like a seed buried in the dirt. To the seed, the burial feels like the end. The shell cracks, the pressure mounts, and it is surrounded by the stench of the soil. But without that darkness, without that pressure, the life inside could never break through. The darkness is not a tomb; it is a womb.

So, where do we go from here? As the Psalmist says in Psalm 130, we go back to the watchman on the wall. We wait for the Lord, but we wait with expectation. We wait because the morning is a certainty. The sun has never failed to rise. And the Son of God has never failed to keep His promise. The bottom may have fallen out, but underneath are the everlasting arms.

You may be in the depths, but the depths are not the end of the story. They are the place where you learn to cry out, and in crying out, you find that there is forgiveness, there is steadfast love, and there is plenteous redemption.

Let us be a people who are not afraid of the stench of the grave, because we know the One who conquers it. Let us be a people who are willing to roll away stones. And let us be a people who stand ready to unbind our brothers and sisters, welcoming them back into the land of the living. Amen?

Message Prayer:

Lord of the depths, when the bottom falls out, remind us that darkness is Your womb for new life. Help us roll away heavy stones of despair and unbind one another with love. We wait for Your morning. In the name of Jesus, the Resurrection and the Life, we pray. Amen.