Death wasn’t anything new for Jesus. At this point in his ministry, he had already raised two people from the dead. But a tomb… that was different. Death’s hold hadn’t been so strong before. Lazarus had been in the grave for four days, past the time when some Jews believed the soul still lingered near the body in hopes of returning to it.

Nor was this just any tomb. No, this one was personal. Jesus had almost certainly never met Jairus’ daughter before, nor the widow of Nain’s son. But Lazarus? This was Jesus’ friend, the brother of Mary and Martha, the family whom Jesus loved. The disciples must have been shocked that Jesus waited two days before going to the tomb. Why would he wait? They had seen his power over sickness and death—why not go immediately to heal the one that he loved?

But Jesus did wait, and Lazarus did die, and so here they were: at a tomb. Although we aren’t told what Jesus was thinking when he approached the tomb, there certainly could have been a sense of anticipation as the cross—and the tomb—loomed large. Even the prophet Isaiah linked the Messiah with a tomb: “He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death” (Isaiah 53:9).

Like the disciples, we’ll have to wait until Easter morning to see victory over that tomb. But we don’t have to wait that long to see Jesus’ power over death. As we hear him call Lazarus to come out, we also see Lazarus emerge—resurrected, alive, back with his family and loved ones.

Death is also often personal for us. Whether the grief is still fresh and raw or the pain has faded to a dull ache, death always leaves a hole. We might pray for the same outcome as Lazarus: that our loved one would emerge from the tomb and live among us once again. And while nothing is impossible with God, he doesn’t seem to work through those types of miracles anymore.

Where does that leave us in our sorrow and grief? At a tomb with Jesus. Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus, and he knows the heartbreak we are experiencing. Death was personal for Jesus, just like it’s personal for us. We can turn to him in our moments of anguish, knowing that he, too, lost someone he loved.

And more importantly, we know the tomb is not the end of the story. Mary and Martha saw the glory of God on full display when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. We’ll likely have to wait a bit longer for this glory and probably won’t experience it on this side of heaven. But we do have heaven as our sure and certain hope.

Yes, we all stand at tombs, and there’s a tomb in our own future (unless Jesus returns first). But Jesus’ story didn’t end at the tomb, and neither will ours. As we approach Holy Week, may we see it all: the cross, but also the empty tomb, and the sure hope that our graves—and the graves of all those we love—will be empty one day as well.