"27 She said to him, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.”
28 When she had said this, she went and called her sister Mary, saying in private, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” 29 And when she heard it, she rose quickly and went to him. 30 Now Jesus had not yet come into the village, but was still in the place where Martha had met him. 31 When the Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary rise quickly and go out, they followed her, supposing that she was going to the tomb to weep there. 32 Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. 34 And he said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus wept. 36 So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” 37 But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man also have kept this man from dying?”"
John 11:27-37
Jesus' distress at the tomb of Lazarus is deeply moving and has much to teach us. It is a wonderful assurance, for one thing, to realise that in our human sorrows He feels so deeply and tenderly for us. He is not a high priest that cannot be touched with a feeling of our infirmities. But the groaning and troubling of spirit mean something else, as well as compassionate sympathy. The words in the Greek indicate anger and indignation. Jesus was indignant, and blazed with anger. What can this mean? Was it because of the unbelief with which He was surrounded? One can almost sense the reproachfulness of those who spoke as they did in 37 - words perhaps spoken deliberately in His hearing so that He might hear them. This could explain the indignation, in part, but there is something much deeper. The true interpretation is that Jesus blazed with anger when He saw what death, the enemy, had done. B.B. Warfield finely says, 'It is death that is the object of His wrath, and behind death, him who has the power of death, and whom He has come into the world to destroy. Tears of sympathy may fill His eyes, but this is incidental. His soul is held by rage: and He advances to the tomb, in Calvin's words, 'as a champion who prepares for conflict'. The raising of Lazarus thus becomes, not an isolated marvel, but... a decisive instance and open symbol of Jesus' conquest of death and hell. Not in cold unconcern, but in flaming wrath against the foe, Jesus smites in our behalf. He has saved us not only from the evils which oppress us; He has felt for and with us in our oppression, and under the impulse of these feelings has wrought out our redemption. The consciousness of what death had done in the world, and His holy determination to deal with it - is not this a wonderful picture, the Son of God striding over to the tomb, as if to say, 'Let Me get at this enemy that has done this to My Father's handiwork'. In this sense, it is an adumbration, a foreshadowing of the way He went into death for our sakes - not as a victim but as a warrior (cf Isaiah 63).'