Continuing where we left off:
One of Jesus’ followers has died. One sister grieves privately. Another sister confronts Jesus. Calls him out. And Jesus announces that he is Resurrection and Life.
And now Mary leaves to bring her grief to the feet of Jesus. And John tells us she says the very same thing to Jesus that her sister Martha said:
Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.
Makes you wonder if these sisters have been talking about Jesus behind his back these three long, agonizing, painful days. Blaming him. If only… if only… if only…
Curious that even in declaring himself Resurrection and Life, Jesus doesn’t walk into the scene strutting in confident swagger. Just the opposite, actually. He’s shattered by what he sees. Emotionally stripped bare. He calls himself Resurrection, but weeps in the wake of what death leaves behind. He grieves with the grieving.
And then we’re told Jesus shouts into the cave-tomb.
What happens next is fundamental to the Jesus story. This is core truth to what this Christian thing is all about: Jesus came to resurrect the dead. He came to make living things out of dead things. This is the punchline of the Redemption Story. All things since Genesis 12 lead to this.
This is the shape of things to come. The story of Lazarus is the prelude of what will happen to Jesus later in this story, of what happens to the new creation.
I wonder what cave-tombs Jesus still shouts into today.
Families that define dysfunction. Barren job prospects. Pasts that reek of shame. Self-confidence and dignity broken beyond repair. Loneliness that aches like an open wound.
As Christians, i.e. “little Christs,” I wonder what cave-tombs we can shout into today.
What about you? What do you see?
Fiftyeight 