Resurrection Life

   "Jesus was still angry as He arrived at the tomb, a cave with a stone rolled across its entrance. "Roll the stone aside," Jesus told them. But Martha, the dead man's sister, protested, "Lord, he has been dead for four days. The smell will be terrible." Jesus responded, "Didn't I tell you that you would see God's glory if you believe?" So they rolled the stone aside." John 11:38-41

  The story of Martha, Mary and Lazarus has been one of the most important stories in my faith walk. It's one I find myself being returned to again and again. It has helped to shape my understanding of becoming a new creation in Christ and what that means. It means having a community around you to help remove the grave cloths of the old way, the old identity, the old sin that has been forgiven.

   I've connected with Martha, the worker, and Mary, the one who sat at Jesus' feet. Both these ladies were part of my own thinking and way of living.

  "Jesus wept." (John 11:36) The shortest verse in the Bible was the one that gave me permission to grieve a long time ago. If Jesus can cry, so could I. That was when the healing journey began with honest tears and a sharing of pain with the One who had been there through all of it.

  When my step Dad passed last year, his burial service gave us the opportunity to place a small shovel full of earth on top of his urn. I'd never done that before but this simple act was a blessing, a small step towards finding closure in the face of loss.

  Do you think the ancient Jewish people felt the same when the stone was rolled across the grave?

  I've been thinking a lot about the gravestone since the Lazarus story was referenced in yesterday's teaching. While I have been called into life by Jesus who makes all thing new, there are times the stone has stopped me in my tracks.

  Being trapped in a grave isn't what Jesus wants. I don't want to be there either. 

  Lord, in spite of how angry I am, I choose to forgive the stone rollers, the ones who could not accept the person You breathed into my being. I choose to forgive those who felt the need to contain my being in a lifeless, stifling tomb. A tomb they had prepared according to their own design, and wants and needs. 

  And Lord? Forgive me for believing it was where I belonged. 

  Which brings me to resurrection life. 

  Forgive me, Lord, for rolling the stone across my own path of freedom because I do it. All the time.

  The stone has a name. It's fear. 

  

  God has been calling me out of the dark for a long time. He wants, not just me, but all of us to live large and free: to live honestly. Living large isn't a prideful thing, it's a joyous celebration of true identity. 

  And maybe, just maybe, I can begin to imagine a future lived outside. How amazing is that!

  As always, to God be the glory. AMEN!