A Meditation on Lazarus

Yes, I'd read the story in the eleventh chapter of the gospel of John several times. Every time I read it or I listen to a sermon on it I tend to pick up a new nuance or an undiscovered application for my life. Topsy turvy, broken dreams, unrealized potential, and unfulfilled effort, cold and still seem to litter my legacy.

This time I was asked to give a lesson on Lazarus' story, and a welcome answer to a particularly difficult problem came. My pupils were children: a small Sunday school class of six- to nine-year-olds is all it took. As I explained to them the basics of this story, I pointed out to them the expectation of man.

"What do you think Jesus will do when he finds out his dear Lazarus is sick?" Of course we all thought Jesus should go and heal his beloved Lazarus and we were all surprised when Jesus let Lazarus die and we all wonder why Jesus would do that. Then Martha echoes the same sentiment, "If you had been here, my brother would not have died." Mary the other sister repeats, "If you had been here, my brother would not have died." Even some people watching on asked, "Couldn't he have done something to keep Lazarus from dying?"

On a smaller scale, I find myself in the same crowd. Where were you Jesus? I need you now. ... and nothing happens. An opportunity dies, or a possibility collapses. ... nothing. Sanity seems to fade. ... nothing. And then burial ... and decay ... of what was so dear to me. Dead and gone and moving on, it would seem.

Many saw Lazarus walk out of his tomb and were astonished. Everything they thought they knew securely died as the dead man came forth.

Oh now I remember. Something will happen that not only will raise me up, but also those around staring at me walking out of my own grave. It has happened to me before, it will happen to me again soon, and it will certainly happen on a literal level later.

Kind of takes the sting out of "not yet".