Then Jesus shouted, “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man came out, his hands and feet bound in graveclothes, his face wrapped in a headcloth. Jesus told them, “Unwrap him and let him go!” [John 11:43-44 (NLT)]
Unlike Lazarus, we haven’t had a four-day encounter with death. Our family didn’t wash us with warm water, anoint us with myrrh and aloe, wrap us in a shroud with herbs and spices, lay us in a tomb, and mourn our passing. Most of us haven’t even endured a months-long coma, flatlined, or been brought back to life with an AED. How does such an experience affect someone? Without a doubt, the man who emerged from the tomb differed from the man who died four days earlier. Did Lazarus return to life with the 1st century equivalent of a “bucket list” of things to accomplish, places to go, things to do, and adventures to have?
When Jesus called Lazarus out of the tomb, the once dead man emerged from the tomb with his face wrapped in a head cloth and his body bound in burial garments. Jesus told the people to unbind him and free him from the trappings of the grave. Something tells me that, after four days in a tomb, Lazarus left behind more than some linen cloth soiled with the detritus of the tomb and death. While we don’t know what he experienced during those four days, He must have returned to life with a new perspective. As he walked into the sunlight he never expected seeing again and inhaled the air he never anticipated breathing again, can you imagine how much he appreciated his new lease on life? Given a second chance, Lazarus probably wasn’t about to bring any regrets, resentment, anger, or guilt with him. Raised from the dead, he probably shed much of his past along with that shroud as he stepped from the tomb’s gloom.
Unlike Lazarus, we haven’t physically died. Nevertheless, we were spiritually dead until we responded to Christ’s call. Now, born again into a new spiritual life, our grave clothes are no longer necessary. Lazarus shed his; have we? Even through we’re reborn in Christ, we tend to carry the detritus and debris of our yesterdays into our new life. After putting on the new clothes of salvation and righteousness, rather than leave our graveclothes behind, we drag along the shroud of the past—a shroud stained with betrayals, anger, disappointment, loss, or hurt and embellished with things like remorse and disgrace. Even when we think we’ve donned the fresh clothes of a new life in Christ, we often tuck a pang of guilt or shame into a pocket. We have trouble believing that we’re forgiven, but we are; that change is possible, but it is; that we have a relationship with the Creator of the Universe, but we do; or that He could possibly love us, but He does! Lazarus shed his shroud; so should we.
As for bucket lists—they seem more a way of denying death than living life to the fullest. I don’t think Lazarus emerged from his tomb with a to-do list of things to accomplish before his next trip to that tomb. I suspect he emerged with a new appreciation for the everyday things of life—his family, the sound of laughter, the embrace of a friend, a sip of cool water, morning dew glistening in the sunlight, sunsets and sunrises, the chirp of a sparrow, worship at the Temple, the taste of a rip fig, a beautiful rose, a buzzing bee, the aroma of fresh baked bread, the earthy smell of rain, and a relationship with Jesus. Death taught Lazarus that he didn’t need more; he just needed to fully appreciate what he already had—Jesus and life!
Lazarus heeded Jesus’ call. When he stepped into the light from that dark tomb, he shed his shroud and embraced his new lease on physical life. When we responded to Jesus’s call, we were given a new spiritual life. Let us leave the despair, doubt, shame, sorrow, and sin behind as we clothe ourselves with the joy of life in Jesus Christ.
Years ago, I often cared for my granddaughter while also watching my son’s dog. The grand in her highchair would push her food around the tray while trying to feed herself. Since fine motor skills are lacking in toddlers, a fair amount of whatever she was eating ended up on the floor. Whatever my grand didn’t get in her mouth became a feast for the dog waiting patiently beneath her for the bits and pieces that fell. When she was a bit older, I think she deliberately dropped a few tidbits for her canine friend.
Jesus told several parables regarding the day of His return. The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids stresses being ready before that day occurs and the Parable of the Sheep and Goats describes the separation of obedient followers from unbelievers and pretenders in the final judgment. It is between those two that we find the Parable of the Talents about serving our Master until the day of His return.
I read a devotion that suggested substituting our own personal anxieties and concerns for the troubles listed by Paul in Romans 8. Perhaps your version would read: “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate me from God’s love. Neither old age nor loss of loved ones, neither cancer nor dementia, neither my anxiety about my wayward child nor my reservations about finances—not even the powers of terrorism and hate can separate me from God’s love. No hurricanes, earthquakes, pandemics, or wars—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate me from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
“He’d always looked at religion as a crutch for people who were too scared to do life by themselves,” is the way author Chris Fabry described a character in his book June Bug. That description made me think of Karl Marx’s frequently paraphrased statement: “Religion is the opium of the people.” Sigmund Freud had an equally low opinion of religion and described it as a form of wish fulfillment. Thinking of religion as little more than a man-made coping mechanism for dealing with the harsh realities of life, Fabray’s character, Marx, and Freud disparaged it along with things like crutches and pain relievers.
Mornings, I read a short devotional from Streams in the Desert, a devotional by L.B. Cowman. Compiled between 1918 and 1924 and first published in 1925, it consists of portions of inspirational sermons, tracts, church bulletins, hymns, devotions, and poetry Mrs. Cowman collected through the years. Each day’s reading begins with a portion of Scripture and a recent devotion began with Psalm 4:1: “Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress.” Because the devotional uses the King James Translation and I usually read the NLT, I didn’t recognize this verse; nevertheless, I had a good idea what it meant.
Devotions of the Heart 