A friend of mine wrote an imaginative reflection on the raising of Lazarus that caught me off guard. She proposed that when Jesus called Lazarus from the tomb, the man was not joyful but angry and annoyed. After so much suffering, maybe death felt like a release. He had finally escaped the pain. And then, suddenly, Jesus’ voice cuts through the silence: “Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:43) The light stings his eyes. The pain returns. And now he is dragged back into a world that had broken him. It startled me at first, but the more I sat with it, the more it made sense. Sometimes, people do not want to be raised. Not at first. Think of those in the grip of addiction, despair, or numbness. The tomb can feel safer than the risk of living again. Yet Jesus, moved by the grief and faith of others (Martha, Mary, the community) calls the dead man out. Lazarus obeys. But he is still bound, head to foot. Jesus says to the bystanders, “Untie him and let him go” (John 11:44). That is often how healing happens: slowly, reluctantly. Not just by a personal decision, but through the love and persistence of others. Resurrection is not always euphoric. It may begin in protest and confusion and only later turn to gratitude and freedom. But Christ’s voice breaks through, anyway. Lenten challenge: Who in your life needs to be called back to life? Pray for them. If that person is you, listen for the voice. It is calling
