All of us have been there, or will be there someday – where Mary and Martha are in the story of the death of Lazarus. Having prayed as hard as we can for the recovery of someone we love, we find ourselves grieving their loss, wondering what we will do without them. Or we will find ourselves wondering where Jesus is, trying to comfort a sorrowing family member or friend, wondering what in the world we could possibly do or say to take away some of the pain this loss is causing them, to make their sorrow somehow easier to bear. This is a common human experience, one we have all had to face many times. And so it was inevitable that, sooner or later, Jesus would face it also. What would he do? Would his method of handling the situation be any different than yours or mine?

The raising of Lazarus is supposed to remind us of the coming Resurrection of Jesus himself. The similarities are superficial, but they are there: the rock tomb with the stone covering the entrance, the two women who visit the tomb, the grave clothes. We are supposed to think of Jesus as we read these details, and think ahead to the happy ending on the other side of Good Friday.

Now, Lazarus was dead. No doubt about it, as the late comedian Jerry Clower would have put it, Lazarus was grave yard dead! And, as Martha will tell us, death stinks. No one in their right mind wants to look at death. When someone dies, we cover up as much of the cold, harsh reality of death as we can by coming up with euphemisms for death. "He’s gone." "She passed away." "He kicked the bucket." "She’s gone home." "His ticket got punched." "She expired." (What was she, a bottle of milk?) NOBODY just plain drops dead any more! Instead, we try to paint a picture of death that makes it look like we just glide from this life into the next, just as easy as you please. Then we wonder why death comes as such a shock when it punches us in the stomach! Comedian Woody Allen has a great line about death. He says, "I’m not afraid to die. I just don’t want to be there when it happens!"

A little girl named Karen saw her precious Miss Kitty get killed. Miss Kitty darted in front of a steam roller that was preparing her street for repaving, and there was Miss Kitty, an instant sail cat, just like in the cartoons. But life is not a cartoon, no matter how ridiculous it may seem. Wile E. Coyote might get up from an encounter with a steam roller, but real-life animals don’t recover too well from that kind of close encounter. Miss Kitty just laid there, all smushed flat and lifeless, all nine lives gone in the blink of an eye.

Karen rushed in to tell her parents what had happened. Daddy went out, scraped up what was left of Miss Kitty and put her in a shoe box. Then they gave her a proper burial, including scripture reading and prayer, in the back yard. And the whole time, Mommy was explaining to Karen, "Miss Kitty isn’t really dead, she’s just sleeping." Now, Karen might have been very young, but she was not stupid. She saw the steam roller run over the cat. She saw the cat AFTER the steam roller had run over it. The cat looked dead to her. But Mom knows best, she’s had more experience with this sort of thing. So, a few days later, Karen dug Miss Kitty up to see if she was awake yet. And she found out Mom was wrong! Miss Kitty was NOT asleep. She wasn’t pretty any more, and did she ever STINK! Miss Kitty was graveyard dead! No doubt about it, despite our attempts to cover up the harsh reality of death, death stinks!

And when we are face to face with the finality of death, we begin to ask questions – big questions, cosmic questions, Mary-and-Martha questions: "Lord, if you care so much, why weren’t you here? Why didn’t you answer my prayer, Lord?" Just like those folks who were mourning the death of Lazarus, when we come face to face with death, we ask the big question: "Where were you when I needed you, God?"

But, true to form, Jesus doesn’t answer the question. Instead he asks his own big questions of us: "Do you believe that I am the resurrection and the life? Do you believe that the glory of God will prevail? Sunday after Sunday, you come here to affirm your faith. You pray, not only for yourselves and your families and friends, but for all those who stand in the need of prayer, all over the world, isn’t that right? Do you believe it does any good in the grand scheme of things to place the needs of others ahead of your own needs?" We ask where God is, and Jesus counters with, "Do you believe?"

Well, of course we believe, Jesus! Why else would we be here? We know that even though things might look pretty bad right now, someday, some way, God will eventually prevail. Someday. But not today. You see, Jesus, we are practical, down-to-earth people. We’re realistic. We still live in a world where the blood of missionaries who helped children orphaned by yet another senseless war gets splattered up against the wall of the church as machine gun fire erupts in the night. Let’s be real here. We just don’t believe the corpse is going to jump up out of the casket and dance at the funeral, Lord. It’s not going to happen. But even though we are realistic, Heaven help us, we still do believe. Even when the situation looks hopeless, we go on believing. Even in the face of death, we go on believing, because we know that one day, some day, in the sweet bye-and-bye, God’s kingdom WILL come, on earth as it is in Heaven. One glorious day, some day, in the sweet bye-and-bye, we will join hands with all those who died before us to stand in the glory of God and sing hallelujah to the Lamb of God who took away the sins of the world and gained the victory over death. And we'll feed each other from the banquet table our Lord has prepared for us and we’ll bind up each other’s wounds with the healing balm of Gilead and our tears will be wiped away by Jesus himself, who has been crying with us because he knows our pain. Yes, Lord, we DO believe all this. That’s what keeps us going despite the harsh realities of life and death in an imperfect world. We believe everything you’ve told us will come to pass, some day. Some day. But not today, Lord. We’re not looking for any miracles today. Just let us cry over our losses today, okay, Jesus? Is that so much to ask?

And Jesus, kind and understanding as ever, says, "No. No, it’s not okay. Lazarus is dead, and you think that’s the end of it all. And without God, it would be. But with God, all things are possible, remember? You want to see what God can do? Stand back and watch. Roll that tombstone out of the way for me, would you please?"

A part of us responds just like Martha did. "Are you out of your mind, Jesus? I mean, healing the sick is one thing, but we’re talking about death here, Jesus! Lazarus is d-e-a-d, DEAD! Death is permanent. Death stinks, and if we roll that tombstone back the stench of death is going to come rolling out of there and knock us all flat! ‘Roll away the stone.’ Get real, Jesus!"

With a twinkle in his eye, Jesus says, "I am the one who will bring the dead back to life. And anyone who believes in me, though they should die, yet shall they live. And I’m not talking about tomorrow. I’m talking about today, right now."

Resurrection is a present reality, not a wild futuristic fantasy, born in desperation from the minds of a grief-stricken people. The apostle Paul, writing to the church at Corinth, says that this is the central claim of Christianity, that Christ’s own resurrection and his power to raise others is absolutely critical for the Christian faith. And we trivialize the resurrection when we tell folks they have to believe in EVERYTHING we believe in in order to be considered a Christian. Take the virgin birth, for example. Do I believe in it? Of course I do. But I’ve heard well-intentioned, good Christian people say that you HAVE TO believe in the virgin birth or you can’t be a Christian. Let me ask you a question? How much imagination is required, how big a leap of faith does it take, to believe that a God who can create the universe out of nothing could cause a virgin to become pregnant? Not much! But to believe that God can breathe new life into a dead body or a dead spirit and bring about new life? Now THAT is a cause for hope! Paul says if the resurrection is not true, then Christianity is meaningless, and if it is true, only then do we have reason to hope for the future.

But that hope is not born in times of celebration and rejoicing. Hope is born of grief and sorrow, given birth by a man well acquainted with grief and sorrow, who weeps with us.

Resurrection hope didn’t come to a bunch of folks who were rejoicing and triumphant. It came to folks who were at the end of their rope, who were shaking their heads and saying, "I don’t know, Lord. I just don’t know." In America in 1999, for most of us Easter has become a time to fortify our optimism, to celebrate the coming of spring, to celebrate our status as a privileged nation among all the nations of the world. But the first resurrection came to a devastated group of people who had no hope of finding anything positive in this latest tragedy. Resurrection came, not with trumphets blaring amidst the Easter lilies, but quietly, in the early morning mist, while it was still too dark to see. Through tears and weariness, through fear and confusion, through the disorientation of grief, through arms reaching out to feel their way in the darkness, resurrection came. It came, not because somebody finally found a way to liven up the Sunday morning worship service, not because all the right candidates got elected to office, not because the Congress did away with income tax. It came because our God is a God who breathes new life even into dry, dead bones and dry, dead spirits. It came because with God, all things are possible. It came because God really is love.

During these past twelve years that I’ve been involved in the ministry, I have had the wonderful experience of watching as Jesus called men and women out of spiritual death into new life. I have never lost the wonder and excitement, the emotion of that kind of resurrection, and I pray that I never will. But then I’ve also seen loving, caring people reach out and embrace and welcome these strangers in their midst, helping them to meet new friends and develop new habits (like coming to church on a regular basis or coming to Sunday School). I’ve seen them provide encouragement to find and use their unique gifts in the ministry of the church. Whenever I’ve seen this happen, I have recalled Jesus’ intructions to the crowd of onlookers at the resurrection of Lazarus: "Unbind him, and let him go." When we encourage newly resurrected Christians to become a vital part of the faith community, that’s what we’re doing. We’re taking off the grave clothes, participating in the miracle of new life.

Where is our hope in the face of death? Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life." That’s where our hope is. God can bring new life even in the midst of death. God invites each of us, everyone, everywhere, to come to new life in Jesus Christ. Because, you see, God is not willing to let death have the last word. But in order to be witnesses to the resurrection, we’ve got to walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

Despite our questions, despite our doubts – who knows? Maybe even BECAUSE of our questions and doubts – we go on believing. Death still stinks, but we struggle to roll away the tombstones, to help one another remove the wrappings of death that bind us all in one way or another, because we are the church. And we, of all people, know that when God commands, new life come forth. And not just someday, in the sweet bye-and-bye, but today, right now, resurrection is a reality. AMEN