Come Out
John 11:32-44
When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
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Have you heard the story about three friends who one day sat down and found themselves talking about death? One of them asked the others, "What would you want people to say about you at your funeral?" The first friend replied, "I'd like them to say that I was a good person who gave freely and helped those in need." The second replied, "I'd like them to say I was a loving partner and a dedicated friend." Finally, the third friend looked at the others for a moment and then said, "I'd like them to say, 'Look! They're moving!" Okay, death is an uncomfortable subject that we often avoid unless we can inject a little humor. In our encounter with Jesus, we are presented with the reality of death, but presented with the countless number of more minor deaths that eat away at us and keep us from the vision God casts for our lives together.
What do I mean by "minor deaths?" Well, I'm talking about those moments where we cannot let things go, and so instead of falling by the wayside, they eat away at us from the inside. You know what I'm getting at, right? I'm talking about those times when we focus more on the losses instead of the wins. All the little (or big) things we've tried to hold onto over the years that we know naturally slip through our fingers with the passage of time. The "minor deaths" or the things that we let eat away at our inner souls will lead us to a tomb similar to the one Lazarus found himself in after Jesus called out to him. Even as people who profess faith, people who follow the life-way of God, we are no less susceptible to the forces that attempt to lead us away from envisioning what lies beyond the vision God is casting for us.
It's easy to get bogged down in the dark solitary confines of a tomb of our design. What's difficult is that once those minor deaths lead us to our individually crafted crypt, it's hard to get out. We surround ourselves with questions of, "What could have been," "What was," and "How," but those questions can't change our present reality and instead keep us in a mire of fatigue and weariness. When we start to think that there's no way out, that is when we hear a voice calling from the outside, "Hey! [Your Name] Come out into the light! Come out and feel the warmth of the rays of God's life and love! Come out and risk living again for the sake of love!" Jesus stands at the opening of whatever closed-off cave we've made for ourselves and shakes us free from the hold of death and despair. It's that needed jolt to wake us from a spirit of listlessness to one of new life and invigoration.
The resurrection of Lazarus from the damp and darkened tomb was a community endeavor, it wasn’t done alone. Jesus stands at the front and commands Lazarus to come out, and who is there to greet him? One might fair to say his friends and family and a fellowship of folks who gathered to witness this miraculous sight. As Lazarus most likely stumbled out of the tomb, adjusting their eyes to the bright rays of the sun, the community swoops in to untie the bandages wrapped around his body and cleanse his body of the musty smell that clung to his body from the grave. This moment of resurrection and new life required the action and vision of a community. Jesus' role was indeed significant, but without the involvement of others, the power of this biblical narrative is lost.
Community involves taking risks, personal investment, and daring to see the world through new eyes, which we can't do from a solitary tomb. Yet, as we head into a season of thanksgiving and stewardship, I can't help but feel a lingering malaise looms over our heads. The challenge for this season will be to listen hard for the voice of Jesus that is calling out to us, to reinvigorate our sense of mission, our identity, and our purpose. Of course, we aren't the first people who've had to wrestle with the realities of hardship and death and loss; Lord knows that generations before us struggled with similar endeavors and feelings. But, as they learned new ways to lean hard into the vision that God was casting, may we too learn to lean hard into the ways where the Spirit of God is calling us to act. So, as we stumble out of the foggy haze we find ourselves in, may we give thanks, and in offering thanks, take the following steps necessary to be a part of something that helps others find a way out as well as we live our lives together. Amen.