How it begins and ends

Daily Devotion - March 29

I will send a brief message each day (except Mondays) while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara
 

John 11:17-45

Lazarus

This week, when our MN lockdown began, Governor Walz explained how we are too late to flatten the curve. Now we are hoping to buy some time to get enough hospital beds in place  - even if they are in stadiums and hotels.  We are too late to keep the worst from happening, now we are just trying to extend its hit so we can be more prepared when it does. 

When Jesus finally gets to the home of his dying friend, he’s not even a little too late; he’s four days too late.  There’s no extending or preparing; it’s over, not even close.  There’s no turning back. He was supposed to be there, and he wasn’t, and Lazarus died.

Jesus, you’re too late. If you had only been here. 
These are the closest people to Jesus.  He loves them, they are the ones that scripture says Jesus loves.  Other than the unnamed “disciple whom Jesus loves” who races Peter to the tomb, Jesus loves the Father, he loves his own, and he loves Martha, Mary and Lazarus.

And still, he was not was there when Lazarus died.
There are more and more people in the world, in our nation, in our own communities, who will not be there when their loved one dies. This is terrible and tragic.
And most of us would give anything to be there.

But Jesus had no pandemic lockdown.
He could have been there, and Martha and Mary aren’t afraid to say he should have been there.  Lord, if only you had been here, this terrible thing would not have happened. 

This is part of having a relationship of love, a real relationship.
We express our hurt, our confusion, our disappointment.
We don’t make excuses for the other, even if the other is God incarnate. Perhaps especially then.

We learned last summer: there are times for the Psalms of orientation and times for Psalms of disorientation (and times for Psalms of new orientation too). And we learned that we don’t tiptoe around God when we’re upset, You’re a good God and I will praise you.  I know you are with me, even if I can’t feel it.  
All that might be true, but like King David, we are supposed to say it right to God, just like it is- if you had been here instead of absent, this would not have happened. Hear the trust, the faith in that? You could have fixed this and you didn’t. 
We are supposed to ask why.  We are allowed to yell and scream and argue and accuse. That’s part of the deal.  All told, Mary and Martha held it together better than I would have.

But that isn’t to push Jesus away. That kind of honesty exists within a relationship of love.  Because what they say then is, Come and see where we have laid him.
The same words Jesus said to the first disciples in the very first chapter of John, the words Jesus says to us, inviting us into the Kingdom of God way of being, Come and see.
These are the words we say back to him, in our loss, and in our grief, come and see. 
Come and see what we have lost. Come and see the destruction. Come and witness the horror. Come, Lord, and see what we are facing.

And Jesus shows up to wail and rage at the injustice and awfulness of it. He joins the mourners in their grief.

Death is ruling over our lives right now, the threat of physical death and the death of our lives and life as we have known it, it’s looming.  Even as we hide away to try to prevent it from taking more lives, it creeps over the mountains, through the streets of our cities, across our arbitrary borders and alleged divisions, and we are all pinned down in place by it’s threat.

And we feel like we’ve lost our lives – so much of what defined our lives a month ago is paused, or ended forever.  So we are stir-crazy and stressed out and bored and afraid.  And everything feels more exhausting, somehow, but how can that be? Because most of us are not even going anywhere or doing anything!  But that’s part of the deal too. We’re dialed down, our capacities are diminished, we’re withdrawn, in shock, and we’re tired.

We’d like to avoid this suffering, oh, how we’d like to prevent it!  We want Jesus to sweep in right on time and prevent it.  But as frustrating as it is for us, we don’t have a God who rushes to stop the bad thing from happening. We have one who comes into it.
Being in relationship with God-with-us means we face death and grief with Jesus. We say, “Come and see” and expect that he will.  And Jesus comes to mourn with those who mourn.

And then we learn that into the finality of death, the “unprecedented,” “things will never be the same” circumstances, Jesus comes into the midst of the death and brings new life right out of it.

I am the resurrection and the life. Jesus says. Jesus is the embodiment of life, resurrection comes in him, through him. Right in the midst of death, life shows up. Right in the midst of death, resurrection happens.  This is not a future hope – it is that, certainly, but it is always now.  Abundant life is now, here. Christ is here.
We don’t get resurrection, or life, as idealized beliefs, or future goals.  We get them right now; in the moments we need them, through the very person of Jesus Christ coming near to us.

One writer puts it, “This is a story that begins in lament and ends in resurrection and life.”
Lent, this season of preparation for Easter, is a human paradigm, to get us into the place of openness to receive the life God brings by turning our gaze toward the death that precedes it.
But this year we don’t need this structure- we are, right now, living in Lent.  We are living in a story that begins in lament and ends in resurrection and life.

Jesus didn’t come on time to temporarily delay his own friend’s death. Jesus enters in and suffers death with all of us, and overcomes death permanently for all of us.

Those who witness this, like the ones who unbound Lazarus’s grave bandages and draped a cloak around him, who held his arms and walked his creaky joints back to the house, drew him a bath, fed him a meal, welcomed him back into the community, they trusted. They believed, because they were part of what God was doing bringing life.

The One who is the resurrection and the life, said come and see what I will do, and drew them into ministry for one another.  This One brought life out of death right in front of them and summoned them to participate.  

All around us, at every moment, this is happening, in big and little ways.  God is bringing newness, life, hope, connection, joy, a future that we could not have envisioned or dared imagine, right out of the impossibility and destruction around us and within us.
Because every time death meets us – in big and little ways, it is a story that ends in new life.
Come and see.
Amen.
 
(This year, we are asking, "Who is this God and what is God up to?" And "What is a good life and how do we live it?" along with some of our biblical ancestors.  The sermons related to this series are here: Hannah, Mary, Anna & Simeon, John the Baptist, Samuel, David (we had a theater performance, here's an older sermon about David), The Samaritan Woman, Mary of Bethany (preached by Pastor Lisa), Martha, Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, Thomas (preached by Pastor Lisa, follow up devotion here)

CONNECTING RITUALS:

This week, our congregation is reading through the Gospel of John.  In my house, it is at the dinner table. Maybe for you, it will be when you wake up, or before bed, or over lunch.  It can be read in about 20 minutes a day, or by reading three chapters each day.  If this is your approach, today, we are reading Chapters 1-3.

We are also setting aside Sundays for Sabbath rest. After we log off of our worship service, we are staying off of TV, phones and other sources of news and distraction. This is time to continue remembering that we belong to God and each other, to rest in some gentleness and let that truth soak in deeper.  Instead of more news, we might:

Get out in the fresh air. Take a nap. Read poetry or scripture. Cook with someone. Do yoga.  Relax in the tub. Play a board game. Build legos.  Write a letter. Look through photo albums.
Be human in a non-plugged-in way for whole day (or for three hours minimum), at least once a week. 

We believe that taking Sabbath time will help us return to the situation that being human right now is with more grace, perspective and courage.

Perhaps when you are ready to move back out of set-aside time whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might use this liturgy for leaving sabbath time, and so join our hearts:
Liturgy for Leaving Sabbath Time
(To be used at the end of the Day)

This ritual may be done with a group or alone.

• Light the Sabbath candle. (Or gather around candle that has been lit through the day).
• Moment of silence.
• Share with one another, or reflect to yourself: 

What was the best part of this Sabbath time for you?

• Share or reflect: 

What do you look forward to in the week ahead?

• Pass the spice packet, (bowl of spices, cinnamon stick, etc) and inhale its fragrance deeply.  

Let the smell linger and remind you of the sweet depth of Sabbath rest, to carry the sense of Sabbath with you as you enter your week.

• End with a simple prayer like, “Thank you God for the blessing of Sabbath time. Thank you for the gift of life, and for sharing all of life with us.  Amen.”
• Extinguish the candle.