Lazarus

A first-hand view of one of Jesus’ greatest miracles

Photo by Bruno van der Kraan on Unsplash

What was that? Did someone call for me?

It’s so hard to move, like I’m strapped to this bed. And it stinks horribly in here, like death… and spice. I think I might throw up.

“Martha!” My voice barely forms a whisper. I need some water to wet my throat. It’s so dry.

Where is she?

My hands push back against the bed as I sit up. I can barely feel my fingers. What is going on?

I see light in front of me. I clear my throat and let out a faint call. “Mary, are you there?”

No answer.

I guess I’m going to have to get up. Why would they just leave me here, alone? They know I’m really sick.

I swing my feet off the side of the bed, but something’s not right. What? I’m on the floor?

I struggle to my knees and start crawling slowly toward the light. Every movement is restricted. My joints are stiff and sore.

I figured my eyes would be clear by now, but I still can’t make out anything around me. Oh, goodness, there’s something on my face. I try to pull it off but I can’t get my fingers to grab it.

As I move forward, the light is getting brighter and I start to hear voices. Many voices.

I let out another puny cry for help.

My heart skips a beat as I feel strong hands grab ahold of me and quickly lift me to my feet. I try to stand but my legs are weak and my feet are numb. I twist around, trying to break free from their grasp.

A man wraps his arm around me and holds me up, “Lazarus, it’s ok, we’re your friends.” Many hands are on me now, pulling, tugging at my clothes and strange bindings.

Oh, my hands are free! I can finally move my fingers.

I draw in a deep breath as the covering is peeled away from my face. The light, it’s so bright!

As I slowly open my eyes, I see many familiar faces, all looking in my direction. They seem confused. Some are shouting. Others praying, crying, holding each other. What is this wild scene that I’ve stumbled into?

Pushing to the front of the group are a couple faces more familiar than the rest.

“Mary!” I cry out. My voice a little stronger than before.

She wraps her arms around me, head against my chest. I can feel her sobbing. Two more arms wrap around the both of us. “Martha, what’s going?” I ask. “What happened?”

They both let loose a little and gently turn me around. Martha tries to speak, but the words won’t come. She lifts her arm and points toward the opening in the stone wall.

I look around, trying to understand where we are. “Is this…?”

“Yes,” Martha replies.

My heart and mind are racing. “How long?” I ask.

Mary looks up at me. “Four days.”

This could only mean one thing. “If he’s here, please take me to him.”

With a sister firmly under each arm, I walk slowly through the crowd. I feel a little stronger with each step. Everyone stares in disbelief, touching me as we walk past. My eyes are fixed straight ahead, though. There’s only one person that I want to talk to right now.

I see him standing alone near the back of the crowd. Our eyes meet and I feel the warm connection I’ve always felt when we were together. As I get close, he smiles and reaches his arms out wide to receive me.

I ask Mary and Martha to let me go. I take another step and then I lower myself to my knees just in front of him. I reach out and lay my hands on his sandaled feet, my head bowed toward the dirt. I’m overcome with emotion.

His hand gently pats my shoulder. Slowly I stand up. I wipe my eyes and I look at his face; kind, weathered and wet with tears.

He swallows hard. “I’m here now,” he says.

I step forward and wrap my arms firmly around his chest, pressing my face into his neck. “Thank you, Jesus,” I say over and over as tears spill from my eyes.

He draws me in tight. We weep.

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