Prayer of the Day     

Read aloud with congregation:  Psalm 130

John 11: 1-41 

I have read and preached on this story countless times…and so many things jump out at me to ponder and try to explain theologically.  Today…for the first time really, I found myself drawn to the character of Lazarus.

Imagine with me that you are Lazarus.  You are young, in your prime, and have so much to live for.  Two beautiful, dutiful sisters to care for, and a home close to Jerusalem where you are a vital participant in a community of Jewish faith and life.  You also have friends….many friends, but one friend and his band of disciples have become especially important to you, and it had changed your perspective on so many things about life…about death…about God and mostly, about HOPE for what God is bringing into a very complex and troubling world.   

For a long time, your home and your relationships have been shaped by listening, watching and sharing quality time with Jesus.  You have witnessed the life-giving thrill of emerging faith in the coming Messiah.  He is the one whose promises seem unimaginable, and yet…somehow, possible.  Being so close to Jerusalem…actually only a few miles away in Bethany, you also have watched the growing fear, hostility and danger that is building toward Jesus, and you carry a concern that soon, perhaps very soon, things may spin out of control.  

As Lazarus, you are a person who likes to make things happen, you need a sense of control.  You make caring, good decisions for your sisters and pride yourself for being a competent and valued member of your community.  And so, when illness strikes it is so out of character for you.  You are a strong man in his prime, and yet, here you are on a bed of crushing illness that steals your breath, knocks you flat and has everyone scurrying around in a panic.  Mary and Martha are beside themselves with worry, yet you have no strength to assure them, for your inner spirit tells you this illness is very serious and very real.  As you struggle for each breath, you find yourself calling out for Jesus just like your sisters are, praying….no more than praying…COUNTING on Jesus to come and heal you…just like he has healed so many others.  

But then…he doesn’t come.  The women weep, the neighbors sigh, they linger at your bedside with anxious hearts waiting…waiting…  And you are waiting too, but now you sense that you are waiting for something else…you are waiting for death. And DEATH arrives.  Your body is bound in white linens, you are laid on a slab in a tomb and a huge stone is rolled over its opening.   The Jews believe that your spirit lingers around a tomb for three days…and so they cry and grieve and wait for 3 days.  Day 1….day 2….day 3.  

It’s now day 4.  Death has robbed the world of this man, Lazarus.  Just decomposing flesh and drying bones.  Grief still holds Mary and Martha and the entire community in deep sorry and loss, but eventually, it will pass and life for those still living will go on.  That’s how death works, right?  [pause] But Jesus has a different perspective…Who knew?

(Segway story…)

It was early morning as the nurse entered the room and spoke to the young man who had stayed the night at his terminally ill father’s bedside.  She could tell by his weary eyes that it had been a long and hard night.  Vigils  always are, but especially when there is deep love and connection to the one whose hand you are holding.  For this young man, it was his father, a gentle, tower of a man who was now reduced to skin and bones from a long battle with disease.  As the son held his father’s bony hand and stroked his ashen face, he said, “He didn't wake up, I had hoped he would wake up one more time.”  He had been afraid to release his father’s hand for fear that doing so might allow this man he loved so dearly to tumble over the brink.  He had held tight to his father’s hand  all night as together they stood on the canyon’s edge of life and death, aware that the final step was only hours away.  “I know it has to happen,”  he lamented to the nurse.  “I just don’t know why?”

The canyon of death.  Many, if not most of us, have been there.  We know how dry and bleak it is to stand at that thin line that separates the living from the dead. Standing on the edge of the canyon of death draws all of life into perspective.  What matters and what doesn’t.  Being there is HARD…but being there is also necessary.  It’s the way we get to the place where the promise of resurrection finally begins to make sense. You see, there is something about facing death head on that makes us humans accuse God of betrayal.  “If God were here…if God were real…if God really loved us…there would be no death!”

But by the very fact that we cry out to God at all…that in our human flesh our spirit longs…waits…cries out of the depths, demands that  if God is God, he has to be God in the face of death!  Psychology can deal with depression; pep talks can deal with pessimism, social movements can speak to hunger and injustice…BUT ONLY GOD CAN DEAL WITH OUR ULTIMATE DELIMMA - DEATH!

Lazarus is dead dead.  In the tomb, 4 days dead.  Yet Jesus came…Jesus embraced the cruel face of death’s pain and despair, opening his arms to both Martha and Mary, and he WEPT.  Why did Jesus weep?  He knew what we didn’t know, that he would raise Lazarus from the tomb, right here, right now.  So why weep?  

Remember the words of the psalmist for today?  “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice!  My soul waits for the Lord more than those who keep watch for the morning.”

Jesus wept because we weep.  His love for those three siblings was so strong and abiding that Jesus’ heart met each one right where they were at.  Martha’s frustration and anger…yet bold confession of belief even as her brother has been dead for 4 long, hard days.   Mary who  kneels at his feet…where she had anointed him with oil, dried his feet with her hair, and listened to his every word, and whose heart is broken in anguish.  And Lazarus…lazarus, who HEARS from the grave…and comes out!

You are Lazarus again.  A loud voice breaks into complete darkness and with the rush of a mighty wind, the Spirit that can only be God’s breath of life restores your flesh and gives strength to your bones.  You breathe in and out…your eyes blink behind the wrapping, and you feel yourself rise.  “Come Out”  It is the voice of Jesus.  A voice you know, a voice you love, a voice that will not let you go.  And so you get up….you walk toward light where the stone is now rolled away.  And you stand there surrounded by gasps of sheer joy and amazement.  And Jesus says, “Unbind him and let him go!”

Hands grasp at the wrappings and all the things that bound you to a world of sin; a world of pain and illness; a world of fear and division, a broken world of injustice and hate fall away.  You…Lazarus, are alive again.  BUT…you are alive to human, mortal life again…which means…you will have to die again someday!  

It doesn’t make sense…but somehow, according to Jesus, your death (Lazarus) and your miraculous resurrection has a purpose…it gives Glory to God and credibility to God’s son who now walks toward a cross to face his own cruel death.  As Holy week and Good Friday unfolded, Lazarus must have been pondering WHY…WHY did I DIE?  WHY did Jesus raise me, when he has no intention of raising himself….OR WILL HE?  (Pause)

Easter…Is…Coming…   Death does not have the final word.  Yet while we live on the edge of that canyon that looks so scary, perhaps we can have this perspective to give us courage:  A little girl was visiting grandmother who lived in the north where the dark night skies were often filled with stars, and the Milky Way often shimmers across the sky.  They put a blanket on the ground that night so that they could share this magical moment together.  As the cosmic wonder unfolded above her, and in awe, the little girl says:  “If heaven is so beautiful on this side of life, what must it be like on God’s side of life?    Amen.