Have you ever seen one of those boxing matches where the guy in the yellow trunks is getting absolutely pummeled but somehow he's not getting knocked out? Somehow, maybe through a divine intervention of God Himself, he's holding on, staying up, even though his opponent has landed punch after punch and all the guy can do is not fall down?

That's kind of what life feels like a lot for me.

What's that guy's strategy exactly? At some point, he's going down right? Maybe it's to wait until his opponent gets tired. Or maybe it's just to stay up long enough to make it to the bell so he can have some dude pour water on him as he spits out his mouthpiece and hopes a tooth doesn't come with it.

But really, unless something miraculous happens, his opponent will eventually knock him out, or the fight will end and the judges will score it as a win for his opponent, who almost certainly landed more solid punches. What's that guy's hope?

Lazarus

Over the next month, I'm going to be writing primarily about Lazarus. In the eleventh and twelfth (how do you spell twelfth? spellcheck, that's how) chapters of John's Gospel, there is this miracle that actually happened on the same earth that you and I walk on where this guy named Lazarus dies and then Jesus comes and raises him from the dead. And all this crazy stuff happens from the beginning of the story to the end of the story involving Judea and grave clothes and odors, but today I want to focus on the end of the story. We'll get to the beginning eventually, maybe Memento-style. But tonight I just want to focus on the end. The part after Lazarus is raised from the dead.

John 12:1-2
Six days before the Passover, Jesus arrived at Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus' honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him.

This was a man who was dead, for four days, and who is now reclining at the table with Jesus.

Reclining at the table with Jesus.

That word reclined is transliterated as anakaimei, which means to lie at a table, eat together or dine. It comes from the word kaimei which means 'to lie', like an infant lies in his crib, or one buried lies in his final resting place or like a city quietly lies on a hill. It also means things that were set into place - like the baby by his mother, the buried by his loved ones or the city by its creator. The other half, ana, means 'in the midst' or 'among'. Reclining brings up images of sitting around and watching the football game with your friends, or coming home after a long day's work and sitting down for a moment of rest and relaxation.

So here's this guy who for four days was dead and now he's dining with Jesus. Or maybe we could say that now Jesus has sat him next to him. Maybe we could even say that this guy was now hanging out, enjoying his life.

We'll get pretty deep into the story of Lazarus over the next month, but for now let's return to the guy in the yellow trunks...

Hope

This pummeling feeling has been going on for years and years. I used to think my strategy was to just try to avoid getting knocked down. But now I realize that my strategy is actually to win the fight.

I don't know how to accuratley articulate this, but I am absolutely sure that I'm going to win this fight. I don't know how. I have no idea where I'm going to get the energy to come back and win this thing, but I know that it's not just a matter of holding out until my opponent is tired. I know that it's not just getting through the round so that I can have some of that life-giving water squirted about my head, neck and shoulders. I mean, there are days where that's true, but it's not the end of the story.

Sometimes I think God will tag himself in like a divine Hacksaw Jim Duggan and wallop my opponent with his 2x4. I don't know, maybe I'll actually somehow get the strength to land a punch or two. Frankly I don't care. But I have hope that I'll get there. Here's why:

The Cast of the Lazarus Story

The cast of the Lazarus story is sprawling. There's Lazarus, there's his mourning and believing sisters, there's the disciples, there's Jesus, there's even Judea, where Jesus was almost stoned.

During different times in my life I have been all of those things. Sometimes I'm all of those things in the same day. I'm Lazarus, whose only hope is Jesus. I'm the sisters, interceding for my friends, I'm the disciples - aloof but committed, I'm (kind of) Jesus, helping others find healing (I'm not Jesus, but you understand what I mean there), I'm Judea, bringing hell to earth instead of heaven.

Right now, I'm Lazarus. And Lazarus is raised from the dead and then he kicks back with a glass of water, a sloppy joe, some tater tots and a couple ears of corn with Jesus afterwards.

I have hope. Because Jesus is going to rescue me. I don't have hope that he will, I have hope because I know he will. It may seem like semantics, but it means something completely different to me.

And friends, he wants to rescue you too. Because, and this is why I'm going to spend the next month thinking and reflecting on this story, I think everyone who has ever lived has been Lazarus at some point in their life. And the Word on the street tells me that there's hope. God's Kingdom is here and the rules have changed. So get out your gloves and get back into the fight.

Still lots more ground to cover. Thanks for sticking with me. Be blessed... be loved...

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