Lazarus

 November 15, 2023

 It was a blistering hot summer day as I drove to Houghton College in my little Nissan pickup, one of those days where the sun beat down so mercilessly that the tar in the asphalt rose in little bubbles on the road. In the back of my truck was a shovel and a black plastic garbage bag. In the back of my mind were thoughts that upon reflection, might better have been turned to more constructive matters.

It was about an hour and a half drive, pleasant enough but for the sweltering heat. Every so often, I spied what I had been looking for, pulled over, and shoveled my treasure into the garbage bag till I had enough for my little demonstration. Once I arrived for the Western NY United Methodist Women’s annual meeting, I tied off the bag and flung it on top of the cab of my truck so the sun would do its work through the week.

Thursday was the appointed day. I took my bag, stuffed it into a cardboard box and with a few other props, headed to the room where I had been teaching the women studies in the Gospel of John. Did I mention that it was hot, and that the room where we met was one of those newer  classrooms with windows that were sealed shut. Air conditioning was all the rage. 

As good fortune would have it, the annual teen Bible camp was being held at the upper campus that very same week, so I had invited all the teens to come to what I was sure would be an unforgettable lesson. They filed into the room that previously had contained only mostly older UM women, and sat down for the lesson.

My prop readied, I jumped up on the table with a flourish. I was sporting a cape and magic wand. Sadly, I had been unable to locate a top hat, which would have made the effect even more exciting. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” I announced. “You are about to witness the greatest miracle since Bible times. I am going to raise Lazarus from the dead!” Eyes widened; I had their attention. Waving my wand over the box, I shouted, “Abracadabra!” Nothing. Again, louder; “Abracadabra!” Still nothing.

“I don’t understand it! This should be working,” I lamented. Stepping down from the table, I gingerly opened the box, untied the black plastic bag and invited the kids to examine the contents. The effect was MARVELOUS! Greater than I had anticipated! One by one, the kids stuck their noses into the bag of week-old, sautéed in the sun road kill. A few gagged, one nearly lost his lunch, the old ladies in the front row were almost in a panic trying to get away from the stench. 

“Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead,” I said calmly amidst the escalating chaos. But Lazarus was still wearing the stinky grave clothes. Jesus told those nearby to unwrap him. We can be raised to new life in Christ, but if we’re still wearing the smelly old death clothes of our habits and sins, no one will want to hear anything we want to say about salvation.”

For years afterward, women would come up to me at Annual Conference and wag their fingers at me for that lesson. At least they didn’t forget it!

Today as I read that scripture in John 11 once more, it occurred to me that Jesus instructed those nearby to unwrap Lazarus. He couldn’t do it by himself. He was still bound. I wonder how often we lead someone to Christ so they have resurrection life, but never get around to unwrapping the smelly clothes of their old life. We expect that with salvation they will know to change their habits, but we forget that they are bound in sins and bondages they haven’t the power to break. It’s our job to unwrap the old life for them. It can be messy, nasty work, which is why so few have the patience or stomach to do it. The fact is however, that no one can unwrap their old life by themselves. We need others to do it, to hold us accountable, to be willing to put up with the stench of the old life as layer after layer is peeled off till the new resurrected person can be seen in all Christ’s resurrection glory.