The Lord turned, not to Mary and Martha, not to punish them for their unbelief, not even to chide them for their sorrow; he turned to his father to thank him. He thanks him for hearing a prayer he had made—whether a moment before, or ere he left the other side of the Jordan, I cannot tell. Surely he had spoken about bringing Lazarus back, and his father had shown himself of one mind with him. “And I know that thou hearest me always, but because of the multitude which standeth around I said it, that they may believe that thou didst send me.” He had said something for the sake of the multitude; what was it? The thanksgiving he had just uttered. He was not in the way of thanking his father in formal words, and now would not naturally have spoken his thanks aloud; he had done the unusual thing for the sake of being heard to do it, and for holy honesty-sake he tells the fact, speaking to his father so as the people about him may hear, and there be no shadow of undisclosed doubleness in the action. “I thank thee, father, and I say it that the people may understand that I am not doing this thing of myself, but as thy messenger. It is thou, father, art going to do it. Lazarus, come forth.” The trouble of the Lord was that his friends would not trust his father. He did not want any reception of himself that was not a reception of his father—hewho did the works! From this disappointment came, it seems to me, that sorrowful sigh, “Nevertheless, when the son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?”

Commentary

by James House

As the Lord's displeasures have only to do with those things that keep us from drawing nearer to our Father, so it is that the lack of full trust in our Father is a key source of his displeasure.

In What's Mine's Mine, Ian reminds us:  "To trust in him when no need is pressing, when things seem going right of themselves, may be harder than when things seem going wrong".  George MacDonald (through the character Ian) further explains/warns that when we love even good things more than we love doing the will of God, we can fail to trust what God wants most for (and of) us.  And, in The Seaboard Parish, a reminder of another error we are prone to: "It is very absurd to trust God for the future, and not trust him for the present".

In Warlock o' Glen Warlock, MacDonald writes:  "When a man comes to trust in God thoroughly, he shrinks from castle-building, lest his faintest fancy should run counter to that loveliest Will; " and "He that would always know before he trusts, who would have from his God a promise before he will expect, is the slayer of his own eternity".

How can we trust our Father more fully?  Only and simply by knowing him more fully.  And how do we know him more fully?  In Paul Faber, Surgeon, the character Mr. Drake says:

"for the peace of your soul serve God so, that, by the time you are my age, you may be sure of Him. I try hard to put my trust in Him, but my faith is weak. It ought by this time to have been strong. I always want to see the way He is leading me—to understand something of what He is doing with me or teaching me, before I can accept His will, or get my heart to consent not to complain. It makes me very unhappy." 

Or, more succinctly: 

"If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself." (John 7:17)

As we do our Father's Will, we will know him more fully, and naturally trust him more fully.   This will bring peace to us, and pleasure to Him!