It is only in one gospel, and only a few verses, but what a wonderful insight this extraordinary incident affords us.

The Lord Jesus is nearing the town of Nain on the road from Capernaum and a large crowd is with him. “And when He came near the gate of the city, behold, a dead man was being carried out, the only son of his mother; and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the city was with her.” (Luke 7:12)

The loss that this woman had suffered was keenly felt by the whole town. First her husband, and now her only son had died. Her grief was immeasurable. What comfort could they offer her, what encouragement? She would have felt abandoned, forsaken, cursed by God.

Such was Jewish custom that even a king would give way to a funeral procession, and at least for some distance, he would join it in order to show respect and share in their grief. But there was one exception to this custom – when a wedding procession met a funeral procession. the funeral procession would give way. Life went before death.

It was not a wedding procession approaching Nain that day – it was the one they called the prophet from Galilee. His disciples and the people with them would have understood the situation at once. They would turn and follow the sad procession to the grave and share the town’s grief at this untimely death.

The mother of the young man would have walked at the front of the procession with the other women, while the men took their turn to piously carry the bier on which his body was laid. “And when the Lord saw her…” His eyes and heart went immediately to the boy’s mother, knowing and feeling her deep, deep sorrow. Death had robbed her of all hope, all joy, all reason for living. He knew it, He felt it.

The Lord went straight to her and said, “Do not weep.”

Did she know who this was? Did she even see Him through her tears? Do not weep? What comfort is that? Why not? Because she was not suffering? God surely knew her pain. Or should she not weep because tears were pointless before the merciless cruelty of death?

The Lord turned to those carrying the body and touched the open coffin. They stopped, wondering what was happening. Why did He not follow behind, grieving as they were, solemn and impotent?

What might have been the expression on the Lord’s face as He stood there before death? What was He thinking? DEATH, I say to you, I WILL NOT YIELD TO YOU. I WILL DEFEAT YOU. I WILL DESTROY YOU.

The momentary silence was broken. “Young man, I say to you, arise.”

The words had barely passed His lips when “he who was dead sat up and began to speak.“

Pause, and try imagine the reaction of the crowd trailing behind that funeral procession. “Why have they stopped?” “What is happening?” “Who is that at the coffin?” “What, the dead youth is alive?” The men carrying the coffin put it down, embarrassed, confused, fearful. The excitement grows. Everyone is speaking at once. Some are laughing, some crying, some just staring.

In the midst of all this, one person might have been forgotten, the one person for whom the Lord felt great compassion. He brought the boy to his mother. Had He not said, “Do not weep”? This was why! Death was soon to die!

“Then fear came upon all, and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has risen up among us”; and, “God has visited His people.”” (Luke 7:16)

They did not yet know Him. God had indeed visited His people, but more than the greatest prophet, this was the eternal Son, the Treasure of heaven, sent to know our sorrows, to reveal God and to be the Saviour of the world.

He wept with those who wept, and He conquered death forever.

“Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.” (1 Corinthians 15:58)

(Image courtesy of Sarah)