Today’s author is Prince of Peace member, Debbie Jorgens.

Text: John 11:1-44

My son, Matt, has been vacationing in Mazatlan, Mexico for about 20 years. He has a wonderful community of friends there and considers Mazatlan his “home away from home.”

While on a beach there about 10 years ago, Matt met Jesus (pronounced “heh-SOOS”). He was working alongside his father, selling food and beverages, and renting out chairs and umbrellas. Matt and Jesus struck up a conversation and forged a friendship that has grown stronger over time, despite the miles that separate them.

I’ve learned a lot about Jesus throughout the years…what a caring and empathic human being he is; how much he loves his friends and family; the ways in which he holds the natural world in awe and reverence.

But Jesus has not had an easy life. Prone to depression, his mental health worsened dramatically when his mother was tragically killed in a car accident several years ago. Not only was Jesus’ mother the most significant person in his life; she was also his greatest source of support – the one who was most helpful to Jesus through the bouts of depression that robbed him of his ability to live life to the fullest extent possible.

After his mother’s death, Jesus increasingly turned to alcohol which numbed his pain while insidiously wrapping him in its grip. Several months ago, Jesus showed up at work while under the influence. The store’s  owner, who has employed Jesus for two years, didn’t mince words: “I cannot allow this in my place of business,” he said before adding, “…so I would like to invite you to come with me to my AA meeting.”

Author and artist, Jan Richardson, recently opened my eyes to something I had never considered in the story about the raising of Lazarus. She  referenced her husband’s unexpected death years earlier and the paralyzing grief that had enveloped her – grief that she would need to overcome if she was to go on with her life. Recalling her reaction after re-reading the story of Lazarus she writes:

At the time I was struck that Jesus does not go into the tomb to pull Lazarus out….Lazarus has to choose whether he will loose himself from the hold of the grave: its hold on him, his hold on it. Only when Lazarus takes a deep and deciding breath, rises, returns back across the boundary between the living and the dead: only then does Jesus say to the crowd, “Unbind him, and let him go.” Not until Lazarus makes his choice does the unwinding of the shroud begin, and the graveclothes fall away.

Thankfully, my son’s friend chose to accept the invitation his boss had extended to him. As a result, Jesus has not only found a new community that understands and supports him; he has found a renewed sense of freedom and the joy that had seemed to elude him for so long.

Our faith allows us to join Martha in proclaiming, “We know that we will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” But the truth is that we don’t have to wait until the last day to know the power of resurrection. Because no matter what might be holding us in its grip – addiction, grief, self-doubt, pain or regret – Jesus is always inviting us to rise up, to leave our tombs and our graveclothes behind, and to walk freely into the new and abundant life that awaits us.

Open our ears to hear your call, O God, and give us courage to rise up and follow you. Amen.