When the famous agnostic, Robert Ingersoll, died, the printed funeral program left this solemn instruction. It read: "There will be no singing." For without faith, few feel like singing in the face of death. Running, perhaps. Crying, certainly. But not singing. Not in the face of death. For without faith, death steals our reason to sing. Death takes the song off our lips and leaves in its place stilled tongues and tear-stained cheeks.

We know that is true, not only because we have experienced it, but also because we saw it happening in the gospel reading today. There was no singing at the funeral Jesus attended in Bethany, only mourning and weeping. Only wailing and crying, but no singing. The home of Mary and Martha was more like a prison than a home. People shuffled about aimlessly, their faces downcast, their eyes dulled by death. On their lips was no music or laughter, only the grief that reminded them of their loss. Another prisoner of sickness had been visited by the jailer of death. Another person caught in death's icy grip had been taken from them. Lazarus had died. Another was gone.

Shokoi Yokoi spent 28 years in a prison. Not a prison of walls, but a prison of fear. When the tide in World War II began to turn, Shokoi was a Japanese soldier on the island of Guam. Fearing that defeat meant certain capture and death at the hands of the American forces, Shokoi ran into the jungle and hid in a cave. He later learned that the war was over by reading one of the thousands of leaflets that were dropped into the jungle by American planes. But he still feared being taken prisoner, so he remained in his cave.

For over a quarter century, he came out only at night. He existed on frogs, rats, roaches, and mangoes. A few years back, some hunters discovered him and it was only after they sent to Japan for his aged commander to come and talk with him that they were able to convince him that it was safe to come out and return home.

Twenty-eight years of living in a cave because he was afraid. Twenty-eight years lost because of fear. What a shame. How could a person be so foolish? How could a person be so imprisoned by fear? A life wasted because he was afraid to come out. A life lost. And it is all too common. The fear of death has filled thousands of prisons. You can't see the walls. You can't see the warden. You can't even see the locks, but you can see the prisoners.

You can see them every day around us as people slip their way through life around us, hoarding all they can get for themselves, grabbing for more and looking for meaning in things that are dead. People imprisoned by fear and hiding from life. Each under the same sentence. Each under the same fate. The Bible puts it this way: "All have sinned. All have fallen short of the glory of God." And all because, "The wages of sin are death."

Death is like a ball and chain tied to our leg. We can try to run from it, but we can't. Its weight is too heavy. It slows us down. We can try to pick it up and carry it with us, but we cannot go far. Its burden is too great. We can try to ignore it, but it always drags us down. It may be a sudden sickness or the death of a loved one. It may be the doctor's diagnosis or the CAT-scan's result. Whatever it is, it reminds us that we are all under the same sentence of death.

Mary and Martha faced death that day. Their brother, Lazarus, had been seriously ill. They were two of Jesus' closest friends, so they sent for him. They had witnessed his healing power. They felt their brother would be in no danger if Jesus were near, so they called for him. We can appreciate those feelings, can't we? Who hasn't called upon the Lord in time of trouble? Who hasn't thought, "If only God would help."

But Jesus didn't come in time. In fact, by the time he made it to Bethany, Lazarus was already four days buried. Martha was wondering what kind of friend Jesus was. She had heard he was approaching town, so she stormed out to meet him. "Lord, if you'd only been here." If you'd only come sooner, "my brother would not have died." There is hurt in those words. Hurt and disappointment. The one person who could have made a difference, didn't, and Martha wants to know why.

And so do we. Perhaps we've done what Martha did — called upon the Lord and sought out healing, asked God for help and looked for Jesus to come. We can almost hear Martha, can't we? Surely he will come, surely he will help. Didn't he aide the paralytic? Didn't he cure the leper? Didn't he give sight to the blind and help the lame? And they hardly knew him. Surely he will come. Surely he will help.

But he didn't come. He didn't help. Lazarus got worse and Martha was left to watch and wait. And when Lazarus slipped into unconsciousness, getting weaker and worse, Martha whispered in his ear, "Hold on. Hold on. He will come. He will be here soon." But Jesus didn't come. He didn't help. And finally it was done. Lazarus died and four days later, Jesus came. And Martha is hurt.

And we know how she felt, for her words are our words. They have been echoed in the minds of countless people as they make their way to the graveside. "If only you had been here. If only you had helped ... my brother, my husband, my wife, my child, would have gotten well. If you were doing your part, God, none of this would have happened. If you were doing your part, Lord, we wouldn't be hurting like this."

Like the story today of Mary and Martha, the grave unearths our view of God. Death forces us to look deep within. When we come face to face with death, our view of God is challenged and we are forced to examine our faith. When we face death, we are forced to ask, "Where is God?" And yet, why do we think that when a person is not healed, that God is not near? Why do we interpret the presence of death with the absence of God?

Because that is how we think. As a result, when God doesn't answer prayers for healing, we think God's not near. As a result, when we experience death and sadness, we think that God doesn't care. And that isn't true. Listen to Jesus' conversation with Martha. As Martha rushes out to see Jesus, she says, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now, I know that God will give you whatever you ask." And Jesus says to her, "Your brother will rise again." She thinks he is talking about the resurrection on the last day. So Jesus has to clarify for her. He says, "I am the Resurrection and the Life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live. And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die." For death has never stood in the way of God. God is present even in the presence of death.

Billy Graham held a crusade in Seattle after the first Persian Gulf War. At the crusade, Shirley Lansing spoke to the crowds about the death of her son. "I come here with a story about my son, Warrant Officer John Morgan." Shirley told the crowd that her son, Jack, had been baptized as a child and had grown up in the church. "I guess he always believed in God but it didn't seem like a big deal until recently. A few weeks ago, two officers came to our door to inform us that he had been killed when his helicopter was shot down by enemy fire."

The most moving moment of Shirley's story came when she said, "I speak to you only from my heart. Only God can give me the strength to stand here before you and say these words. But it's so important that I speak them and it's so important that you listen. Each of you has the same decision to make that my son made — to believe in God or not. And now is the time for you to decide, for none of us knows how long we've got."

Three weeks before her son had been killed in action half a world away, he had written his family a letter to be opened "just in case." After receiving the devastating news of her son's death, Shirley and her family gathered together and read that letter. It was filled with John's reassuring words. He ended the letter with these words, "In case you have to open this letter, don't worry. I'm all right and I know something that you do not. I know what heaven is like."

Standing there before the grave of Lazarus, Jesus wept. He shed tears of sadness for the pain that Mary and Martha felt and he weeps tears for every family who have ever stood at the grave of a loved one. But he also sheds tears of frustration that we cannot see beyond the grave, that we refuse to hear his words of comfort and peace, and that we think that death is the final word.

To prove once and for all that death has no power where he is present, Jesus cries out, "Lazarus, come out." It took only one call. It took only that one word and Lazarus heard his name. His eyes opened and his life returned. And rising from the grave, he came forth alive and well. And Jesus said to them, "Unbind him and let him go." For death cannot triumph where Jesus is present. God has the last word.

God wanted them to know and God wants us to know. Death cannot triumph where Jesus is present. For where Jesus is there is life. Isn't that what he says? "I am the resurrection and the life." Where Jesus is present, there is life. Where Jesus is present, we are set free. The keys to the prison are in Jesus' hand. Where Jesus is present, there is no need to fear. For death has no power over us. Through faith in Christ Jesus, we are set free.

Don Webb, the former President Emeritus of Centenary College, was born in Wales and served in the British navy before coming to America to begin his ministry. In the British navy he was named captain of the H.M.S. Switha. As captain, he wanted to impress the crew with how wise and brave he was. And the first assignment was to check the anchors that held the buoys in place and the only way to do that was to send a diver down to the ocean bottom in one of those big suits with the iron helmets and weights.

Webb was told that the previous captain always went down first. He felt he had to do the same. The only problem was that Webb had never gone deep-sea diving and knew nothing about it. However, rather than admit his weakness to the crew, he told them he would go. Scared to death, he put on the heavy suit with its thick gloves, leaded shoes, and huge helmet. As he reached the ocean floor, he began to panic. As he tried to take his first step, he realized his feet were stuck in the mud and instead of striding forward, he fell forward, face down in the muck. And worse yet, he let go of the lifeline. As he lay there in the mud, unable to move, he remembered the last thing the Navy ensign told him. "Sir, whatever you do, don't let go of the lifeline. And if you need help, just give it a tug.”

"This is it," Webb thought. "I'm going to die down here, stuck in the mud, face down on the ocean floor. This is how it ends." However, after several minutes, which seemed like an eternity, Webb felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. The crew, sensing that he was in trouble, had sent down an experienced diver to pick him up, unstick him from the mud and get him back on his feet again.

In the same way, Jesus comes to us in our need. Jesus enters our world. He comes down to help us and he says, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die." We need not fear death. We need not hide behind closed doors. For we have a friend who has come to help. We have a Savior who can rescue us from sin, the grave, and the power of death. He holds the keys to eternal life. Death cannot imprison us. In Jesus' name. Amen.