The truth is: we don’t like to see brokenness in others any more than we like to be broken ourselves. We don’t like to dig that far into another’s life. We would prefer not to sink our teeth in due to the aftertaste of a life in need.
And let’s face it. In this day and age, our own lives are so screwed up, who has time to help sort out anyone else’s? Even Christian lives are often lived every-man-for-himself because there is so little time to get our own house in order. Certainly, we don’t actually SAY this. We say that outreach and missions and caring for our fellow man are some of the most important and often-implemented aspects of our lives. But, is this accurate? Do we actually attempt to look after the next guy as much as or more than the one standing in our shoes? No. We don’t. Because we have told ourselves that it would be tragic to aff ect so many other lives for the better only for our own to end in disaster. To this end, until our own lives feel finished, we hesitate to aid in the completion of someone else.
So we bite hesitantly. We test the waters of relationships. We ease in to minimize discomfort. Th erefore, our ministry is safe. We truly affect people, but only those who won’t rattle our daily lives if the affecting doesn’t change them. We open our mouth as if to chomp down hard but, at the last moment, settle for pre-chewed food. We outreach for our own sake and need—not looking for the neediest recipient but instead searching for the guilt-resolve that fits best within our schedule. Th ere is an inherent problem with this sort of unreach.
Our jaws are rotting from lack of exercise because we are not leaving teethmarks.
Teethmarks. Biting down hard and leaving behind something uncomfortable. Something that causes a blemish and an audible ouch. Something that awakens—that draws blood. Something aggressive that changes and lasts. Not a flashbang, but rather a crater of care.
Now, I may not always behave as if I believe in teethmarks. I may behave as if I believe that reaching out is supposed to be an open hand allowing the hurting party to do all the grabbing. Th at once I am fixed, all the pain should stop. Unfortunately for me, there is someone who disagrees. His name is Jesus.
Jesus hears news that a friend of His is dead. And He weeps. But He doesn’t weep because the friend is dead. He weeps because the women who told Him His friend is dead have chosen to believe this. They have determined that Lazarus is a lost cause.
To be fair, death is the sort of thing that we tend to view as final. Regardless of your theology, good people die because there is a better healing after that suffering. But Jesus was troubled. Not because the women believed death was real, but because they had not really listened to Him.
He had made it clear two days ago: “Lazarus’ sickness will not end in death.” He was God—death’s superior—and He had made an executive decision in the case of Lazarus. The result of his malady would bring glory to God.
But Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha, had only believed Jesus to a point. They had, indeed, believed that Jesus would not allow Lazarus to die. But they misunderstood—thinking there was a depth Lazarus could drown where Jesus would be unable to dive in after him. The women’s faith and minds had limits. In their imagination, Jesus was stronger than the last straw, but once that last straw disappeared, they believed the contest to be lost.
And, right about now, Mary and Martha were having a difficult time with Jesus because He was not returning to stop death from seizing their brother. After all, it had been a promise. Doesn’t God’s promise mean that He will resolve our issue the exact way we think He should? Well—perhaps not. But, there are clearly only so many conceivable ways this sort of a miracle could be provided, and none of them included Jesus staying put several cities away.
So, from their perspective, Jesus delayed, and Lazarus died. The issue appeared closed. The sisters would continue to believe in Jesus as the Son of God with one exception: that He was either unwilling or incapable of keeping that one promise. As a matter of fact, when Jesus did arrive a few days later, Mary came immediately to Him, fell down at His feet, and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Sadness, regret, disillusionment, unanswered questions—all wrapped in a single ball of misunderstanding.
What exactly was the misunderstanding? The placement of “The End” on Lazarus’ story. Mary and Martha had assumed the end was now. But they didn’t have accurate information. Because of this, they had given up on their own brother—even when Jesus had not given up at all.
“Where have you put him?” Jesus asked. And rather than tell Him, they showed Him that they had sealed Lazarus inside a tomb with a stone. They had not only had enough time to doubt, they had enough time to finalize.
Jesus looked on at the sight and made a command. “Roll the stone aside.”
You see that weight you stuck in front of his escape? You see that label you attached to his life? Well, guess what. You get to move it. You and those like you. Roll it away. The sisters protested, concerned for the smell. But Jesus responded the way—in our unfortunate society—God often has to respond to our surprise at His greatness:
“Didn’t I tell you ...”
Then Jesus told Lazarus to come out of the hole in which he had been buried. And Lazarus did. Wrapped up like a mummy and smelling like four days of decay, Lazarus came out. Lazarus was alive.
But this is not where “The End” belongs either. Because God’s breath of life into Lazarus was not enough to complete the miracle.
Lazarus was still bound. Bound with the cloth coffin those who loved him decided he now belonged in. They had determined “The End,” by dressing him for death.
And that is when the most curious thing of all took place.
Jesus, who had the ability to breathe new life into Lazarus’ lungs, who could whisk away Lazarus’ entrapments with a lilt of His tiniest finger—this Jesus did not choose to take the final action of freeing Lazarus for Himself. Instead, He made another command.
“Unwrap him. And let him go.”
Jesus, having every right to fix our messes Himself, decided that the most healing option for all around would be for the doubters to also be the rescuers. For those who had a tendency to apply bandages and chains to also be the ones to occasionally remove them.
Jesus asked the people to unwrap those He resurrected.
And He still does.
It is you and I that God continues to ask to unwrap them. Unwrap those whom I have written off. Those whom I consider lost causes. Unwrap those whom I have had a hand in tying up as well as those whom I haven’t. Be willing to bite so hard that the bandages break.
But I would rather chew the soft food and let the hard cases stay in the tombs because I assume they will both smell and taste horrible. This is why my efforts have resulted in moments of spectacular flashes—without truly changing anything.
Because I cannot pick and choose the way I will be used.
It is an issue of real authentic love for each and every person. It should take a sacrifice on many levels to accomplish God’s task because this task is supposed to change me, and change does not occur where circumstances are predictable and comfortable.
Consider for a moment the people, relationships, and situations that you have considered dead. God would dare say that they are merely sleeping. But, they are in need of a swift, deep bite. The sort that leaves a permanent indentation.
Are you willing to bare your teeth and be that person? Because it is the first step toward the answer. The answer to why our plan has not been working and how it, perhaps, could. The clue that leads away from hollow fireworks and into healing that is truly remembered. Remembered enough to bring change.
That is, indeed, a volatile place to be. A daring world where not one soul is safe from our attack of love. Where no one can cower in the shadows and bide their time until mummification. Because there are followers of Christ who are not waiting to be asked for help. We, instead, root out the dying and grab their hand before it is even fully outstretched.
And, in that process, do not even realize that we have just been rescued ourselves.
NEXT: Continue the “Flashbang: How I Got Over Myself” journey with chapter “(2vi): doing impressions.”