Scribbling In The Sand – Michael Card
Got up a little earlier this morning, and decided to start reading a new book… thanks Melody. 🙂

I am certainly not in any sort of rhythm here at blog central. I am otherwise occupied, it seems. Sometimes when I don’t write it’s just my brain taking a break. Breaks are good. Refreshing. But this has not been a break, as my little list of things to write about on GregsHead.net continues to grow, and continues to be neglected.

Today it felt as thought I owe other people my time. That’s why I don’t blog. Writing time, while for you, the reader, in a sense… is primarily for me. A way to process life. To sort through all that swirls through my consciousness. But when I have clients counting on me to meet their deadlines (and me agreeing to do so), and when I have a family whom I love and want to be with, and when I even want to be spending time with God… writing gets pushed down the line.

From those reasons I listed, it still makes sense to me that I don’t have time to write, but I think I need to perhaps arrange things a bit better for me. I really miss it when I don’t get to put stuff down on paper. (Or on my blog, as is the case here…)

So, I’d say to be on the lookout for a few random and wandering thoughts from Greg’s head here in the near future. 🙂

Following up on Ian’s story from last week… Ian drew me his own version of the x-ray. I had to post it. 🙂

Ian is so cool. 🙂

Chris said…

“Anyway, on a slightly more serious note, I’ve been having a discussion lately with a few people and the question keeps coming up – why do women tend to be more into ‘church’ than men do? Does that make men less spiritual, somehow?”

No.

That’s the short answer. 🙂

Again, I think we’re looking at “church” the wrong way. I am the last person to be commenting on gender classifications (in many ways, I match the female gender profile: I cook, I like to talk, I don’t like things like cars and power tools and other things men are “supposed” to like…) That said, I do believe that sitting in a talking meeting is not where most men would like to be, nor is that what the church is. Nothing to do with it, actually.

Church is not a time, a place, a building, an event, a gathering or any sort of thing we can measure. The church is the body of Christ. It is the world-wide body of believers, not when they assemble… they just ARE the church. It is the whole of the people whom God has brought to himself. You can not put any quantitative measures on the church. When you do, you’re missing something.

So, when we call church what happens in any given be-steepled buidling (THAT was a great word!!!!) then people who don’t like those sorts of gatherings will be said to “not like church” and as most of those seem to be of the masculine gender, thus, “Men don’t like church.” And, then people come to the conclusion you mentioned. That men are less spirtual.

Well, that’s just not true. We are equally spiritual, neither of us has a leg up on the other. What happens is people end up telling other people how to be “spiritual”, like attending meetings and programs and gatherings, and then when those new standards are not met, they can label them as outside of those bounds.

So, back to the original question:

“Why do women tend to be more into ‘church’ than men do? Does that make men less spiritual, somehow?”

No.

Saturday had gone pretty much as planned. We were just finishing up a long day of serving at our church. With sound checks and two complete run-throughs of the service, coupled with a half-hour commute each way, those Saturdays are long and tiresome. Especially for small children.

On our way home, Ian (our six-year old) complained of pain in his nose. We were curious, as it was not a normal complaint, but chalked it up to a strange case of sinus pressure and continued on our drive home.

I was putting away some things that had been left out in our rush to leave the house that afternoon, and getting ready for a bed-time snack and perhaps a little Star Trek with my wife, when I heard a commotion in the boys room. Jen was putting the boys in bed and Ian was loudly complaining about his nose. When the situation had my attention, I heard him say frantically, “There’s something in there!“

This piqued my curiosity of course, and I peered around the corner to see what in the world he was talking about. He was standing on his bed holding the left side of his nose with a very concerned look on his face. Still asserting that there was something in his nose. Then a look of resolution washed over his face. The light went on, and everything was ok. That’s when Ian revealed to us what had happened.

“Ohhh…. It’s probably the coin.”

Those were NOT the words I wanted to hear. Just by the way he said them, and the look on his face, his previously hidden childish mistake had been quickly and very certainly brought into the light. I left the room as my blood pressure went through the roof. The next morning was coming early enough… a hospital visit was NOT in my agenda for the evening!!

Ian continued to explain a bit to Jen what had happened. Those moments, truthfully, were a blur, as I was trying to just get a handle on my anger. Once I had a bit of control back, I picked Ian up out of bed, and laid him on the floor of the bathroom. I looked for the tweezers Jen had recently gotten from a garage sale, and began to perform exploratory surgery. Ian was crying, and blood started to appear at the base of his nose. I had not felt anything like a coin, and was not willing to pursue any farther this on my own.

“Get your shoes on, Ian, we’re going to the hospital!”

I was not happy.

On the ride to the hospital (which we made in record time… adrenaline is a marvelous thing…) I was trying to process everything, and scolding Ian for his insanity. What is it that makes kids stick things up their noses?!? In utter disbelief, and still quite fiery anger due to the late night visit to the ER, I continued my steaming. Finally, God got a thought in there I believe. I realized that it was really a great thing that Ian felt the coin before he laid down to sleep. Who knows what might have happened if he had gone to sleep with a coin in his nose? So, I quietly thanked God for that, while still making a few incredulous comments in Ian’s direction.

We arrived at the somewhat desolate hospital roughly 10 minutes after leaving home, and proceeded through what looked like the most obvious entrance. We found ourselves in the treatment rooms hallway, with a few nurses looking on. I figured that was not the right place, so we continued to look for a registration area. Finally made our way through some automatic doors and into a lobby/lounge area. There was an older gentlemen sitting with a teenage boy across from a tough-looking lady with glasses who appeared to be in charge. There was no sign saying “Registration” or “Sign In Here”, just a sign saying “Do Not Disturb”. Not being one to always follow signs, I peeked around the corner and quietly asked, “Is this where we register?” The lady at the desk fired the quick retort, “I’m with a patient, have a seat!” I sheepishly admitted I had not been to this hospital before, and was just looking to sign in. She reminded me to have a seat. 🙂

So we sat. And we waited. The bespectacled woman was lecturing the young man about his sexual practices as we waited quietly for our turn to face the tongue lashing. It was quite sometime, and perhaps a good chance for Ian to think about what he had done. He was growing visibly concerned. I tried to assure him, and we did pray together that God would make good out of this bad situation.

After 15 minutes or more, a much nicer looking lady came out from the back. She spoke with the two men in the registration room, and the other lady behind the desk, and offered advice and information in a decidedly softer tone. They seemed to resolve something after a couple minutes, and the gentler, taller woman with the stethoscope retreated from the office and seeming to almost debate in her head whether or not to approach us, she stepped our way.

“So how can we help you, young man?” she asked, directing her words to Ian.

“I stuck a dime in my nose.” he said matter-of-factly.

“You did? That’s not the best place to keep your money…” she said with a smile. She continued to figure out the situation a bit, and kept the mood light and reassuring for a now scared little boy. After a brief moment, she had a plan, and we were taken into another room.

We waited, and then were greeted by another nurse. She took down some information, quizzing Ian for any details he could recall. We laughed with her about the things she had seen other kids put in their noses. 🙂 It was quite a list! After about 10 minutes there, we were directed to the office where the previously rough-looking lady greeted us with a smile.

I knew that she was not going to be as gruff as we were now supposed to be there. At least, I hoped she wasn’t! 🙂 I was right. She laughed a bit – just to lighten the mood – at Ian’s predicament, shared some similar stories, and reminded him that it’s better to keep your money in the bank instead of in your nose. Ian agreed. 🙂

By the end of our little information interrogation, she plopped a little stuffed Fozzie Bear down in front of Ian. A little treat for a tired and still slightly concerned boy… with a dime in his nose.

We were ushered to the last room on the right – room number 8 – past several nurses and other hospital staff, and the occasional occupied room. There is no shortage of hurting people in the world. Not even in Wayne County. When we got to our room, we were told the doctor would see us shortly. I looked at the clock, it was 11:15 already! This was not good. I was just hoping that they would be able to dig out the dime fast so we could go home and get a little sleep!

The clock continued to approach midnight, and we were not getting any help. I kept wanting to call Jen to give her a progress report, but signs continued to warn me that cell phones were a no-no in the emergency room. So, we waited, and we talked. I kept trying to reassure Ian that they probably wouldn’t have to cut off his head this time. Not this time.

Finally, a tall, dark-skinned man came into our room, and began asking Ian about the dime that had found its way into his nose. 🙂 After a few questions, the doc dove right in! He had a nurse bring him what he called the “nose tray” and once she had, he grabbed the tools and started diggin’!

First, he took a look with that lighted pointy thing they always stick in your facial orifices. He looked up, moved it around, looked down. Ian looked a bit uncomfortable, and the doc looked perplexed.

“I don’t see it in there yet. Did you feel it fall down in your throat?” he asked Ian.

“Nope. I felt it in my nose,” Ian stated matter-of-factly. He’s good at that.

“Oh.” To the point, but not reassuring words from the kind doctor.

He began digging in Ian’s nose with some interesting looking forceps. They could stretch open the nostril whilst the light continued to illuminate the nasal cavity. He dug for a while, then repositioned the light, the dug for a while more. All making Ian squirm a bit. Still, no luck.

“I think it may have fallen back down into his throat and he may have swallowed it.” The doctor was fairly certain that this was our explanation. At this point, I believed him, but had a nagging and really annoying feeling that perhaps Ian had made this whole thing UP!?!? I didn’t really think so, but that was certainly creeping into my mind…

“I am going to send him over for some x-rays to see if he swallowed it. Stay here, and someone will come to get him for the x-rays.” And with that, he was gone. I checked the clock, and we were right at about midnight. Two hours… no coin.

After a bit more waiting (there seems to be a lot of that in a hospital) an x-ray dude came and took us to the room where they would take a look inside my son. A rather strange phenomenon, but I hoped it would get our heads to our pillows a bit more quickly.

We followed him into the room, and he began to set up the machine to take its photos. I found it curious that he appeared to be setting it up to capture Ian’s chest. That was what the doctor had relayed to him – check to see if he swallowed it – but still, I thought surely they would have to check in his nose, since that’s where he put it. 🙂 The technician flawlessly captured two images of Ian’s innards. He and another x-ray dudette took a gander at them on that little LightBrite thing they use and surprise! No dime! It was then that the other tech offered the brilliant idea (with a hint of sarcasm) that we scan Ian’s head, to see if it’s still in there! 🙂

So, we did.

Ian stood by the face x-ray machine. They prepared him for the photo, and snapped a shot from the back of his head. After processing the film, and placing it on the LightBrite panel… THERE IT WAS!!!!! We have first contact! There was very clearly a white slash in the middle of Ian’s head that was not supposed to be there! The second tech said we should take a profile shot to verify where it was located. They proceeded to set Ian up one more time, and after processing the film, this is what we saw…

Right in the very middle of my 6-yr-old’s bony little head was stashed exactly 10 cents. Not the first place you might look for loose change. Perhaps under the couch cushions, or in his pockets – or even better, in the washer after forgetting to check his pockets. But usually not the CENTER OF HIS HEAD.

At this point, after the hour of 12:00am, we are all a bit amused by the whole thing, and happy to have located the wandering currency. We return to room number eight, and await the official removal procedure from the doctor.

It was at this point, about 12:15am that I was able to finally call Mom and let her know that we found the coin. Unfortunately, Mom had long since fallen asleep. 🙂 But, the message was left, and with great anticipation of returning home shortly following the call. Little did I know what was about to happen next!

The doctor told me that the coin was lodged at the back of the nose, just above the throat. He could approach the coin through the nostril, or from underneath through the mouth. He preferred the nostril, and looked at me as though asking, “Do you concur?” To which, if it had not been 12:15am following a painfully long day, I might have responded without a verbal cue, “I concur.” Alas, I was only able to mutter, “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.” Leaving me mumbling to myself afterward, “I should’ve said concur! I should have said, “I CONCUR!!!”

(See Catch Me If You Can to fully appreciate the above paragraph.)

So we found ourselves back where we started, in room number eight in Newark-Wayne Hospital, with Dr. Nwokonko sticking very long metal instruments down Ian’s left nostril. This was not a pleasant experience for Ian. He was definitely learning the cost of putting a ten cent piece up your nose. 🙂 It was clearly a painful experience, so the doctor used some numbing gel on the end of a 10″ swab and after what seemed like a token swab of Ian’s nostril to numb the pain, he proceeded down, and down further, and then even further down inside Ian’s nose. He was attempting to dislodge the coin, and hoping it would fall into Ian’s mouth, and we could get it from there. No luck. That coin would not budge. He couldn’t see it, he couldn’t grab it, and he couldn’t push it out.

A bit stumped, he said, “I think we should go back to x-ray.”

I thought, “Oh boy! Are we going to keep taking pictures after every attempt? Just to see where it is now?” Thankfully, Dr. Nwokonko let me in on his plan, by explaining it to the x-ray technician.

“I’d like to do a [insert big fancy medical word here] on him so we can see where the coin is and be able to reach it that way.”

Cool! An x-ray video!!! Awesome, Ian!!! They’re going to shoot a video of your skull!!!

(Sorry… I was tired. And easily amused.)

So, as they prepped that machine we got to talk a bit with Dr. Nwokonko. (By the way, exactly how much do all of these fancy procedures cost, anyway? I know in Star Trek they are free… but this ain’t no Star Trek…) We found out his name, Dr. Nwokonko. Found out that he is from Nigeria. And that he occasionally works the night shift, but does not prefer it. He is a gentle, kind man. I am glad he was on that night.

After a few moments, we were ready to proceed. We went into the room, and got suited up with lead aprons. I thought it was amusing that the doctors and technicians wear full body armor while they shoot laser beam x-rays through Ian’s naked head. Doesn’t that seem a bit strange to you? Oh well…

They turned it on, and there was Ian’s head, and the dime. The procedure began. Having his target in visual range, Dr. N probed deeper than before, and Ian could feel it. My poor little boy was definitely tired by now, shortly after 12:30am, and had less tolerance for this much more aggressive treatment. My previous anger had definitely subsided, and though I may appear at times to be tough-skinned, that was a moment I would rather not relive. There was some pain in his cry, but perhaps more fear, and just desperation. It was definitely hard to remain behind the screen. I just wanted to come hug him, hold him. I offered words of encouragement best I could.

Despite what seemed like endless probing, and screaming, and Dr. Nwokonko repeatedly saying in his thick accent, “Sorry…” we were unsuccessful. The coin was just out of reach. He stopped his attempts to reach it, and just started talking with the tech about what they might try next.

This is my favorite part of the night…

It was at this point that my amazing 6-yr-old son began offering his expert medical opinions. 🙂 The doctor was saying that perhaps he would try the smaller forceps (thinking that perhaps the larger ones were too wide to reach far enough in.) To that Ian quipped, “I was thinking that bigger ones would work better…” It was sooo funny! The tech looked at him and she said, “You are quite a character!” He is too cool.

Well, despite Ian’s advice, Dr. N left to get the smaller forceps. Ian continued to offer some opinions and a little color analysis of the previous attempts to remove his nasal-stashed coinage. It was late, but the mood was still a bit light. We all hoped that this would be our last attempt.

Dr. Nwokonko returned, with the smaller forceps, and we turned the machine back on for one more try. Not appearing to be as patient this time, the doc dove straight in and Ian screamed again. In between cries, he did manage to get out, “Can you reach it fast, pleeease???” Even in extreme discomfort, Ian is polite to his elders. 🙂 The idea seemed to be working, and Dr. N was very close to grabbing the coin. He reached and Ian squirmed, and he reached some more.

Then with one quick motion, the coin in the image moved, and was pulled completely out of Ian’s tired little head!

We were all quite relieved, and happy – especially the little boy who started us on this adventure in the first place. As he would later explain, he was “just trying to get a booger.” 🙂

We went back to room eight, awaiting discharge. Ian talking most of the time about his experience that night, and how he would never, ever stick anything in his nose again! I bet not! The female x-ray tech got us a copy of the x-ray they had taken with the clearly visible Eisenhower lodged in the center of Ian’s head. Ian also got a little care package from the hospital folk. And, lots of smiles as we walked out.

We drove home quickly, and at nearly 1:00am, Ian hit his pillow, ten cents lighter.

What a night! What a day! One we will not soon forget.

And all for only a dime.

Heard on the news today that some state senators introduced a bill to impose further restrictions on snowmobile users. More laws. More restrictions. More legislation. The news piece cited the two deaths this past year as the reason for the new laws.

OK, now every life is important. Every life has value. But TWO PEOPLE? Two people who were either doing something their common sense should have told them not to do, OR, two people who chose to OVERRIDE their common sense (we DO have free will, if I recall…..) and ended up paying for it with their lives.

Is that sad? Yes. Does that require lawmakers to enact more legislation? Absolutely not. Why do we think people are so incapable of making decisions without having laws to “make” the decisions for them? What happened to personal responsibility? What happened to letting people make their own decisions, even if they’re bad ones?

Why must we regulate EVERYTHING?

I………. love New Yorrrrrrk…..

Read the story here.

Every nation has borders. Stakes claimed to a certain region of earth. Boundaries to keep their stuff in and your stuff out. Every kingdom has a line of demarcation that delineates where you are in, and where you are out of that provincial territory.

The same would seem to be true of the Kingdom of heaven. Jesus talked about a Kingdom quite often while he was here, likening it to several familiar things and happenings through stories he would tell along the way. The two terms kingdom of God and kingdom of heaven seemed somewhat interchangeable coming from his lips. Whichever phrase he chose, he definitely spoke of a kingdom.

At that time, the Jewish people were under the reign of a foreign empire. Rome had extended its borders far beyond where they have currently receded. Everyone answered to Rome. You were under their authority, but special privileges were given to those with Roman citizenship. Everyone else could be expendable.

Into this climate, insert a Messiah. Not just at that season, but for centuries, the Jewish people had interpreted the words of Prophets regarding a coming Savior to mean victory for their people. Peace and prosperity for those whom God has chosen. And as their lives were dominated by the Caesar at this time in history, it was easy to latch onto the hope that God would crush their oppressors via his anointed Messiah.

Jesus came speaking of a Kingdom. They listened, and nodded, and shouted. They tried to “make him king” Luke records, but Jesus slipped away. They heard the words they wanted to hear and were trying to make him the king they wanted him to be. They did not understand his kingdom.

I think today we still struggle with this. We are not trying to make him king in the same way. I have not seen and “Jesus for President” bumper stickers, or any mobs at the White House calling for a coup to replace George W. with Jesus. Nothing like that. But, we do have our own ideas of what the Kingdom is.

Often, I will hear people talking about our borders. Who is in, and who is out. In some minds, our borders are very certain. Jesus made sure we knew that you were either in, or you were out. He is the King, and he says so. Unfortunately, many of these same people may be quite surprised when the masks are removed and we stand with Jesus someday. There may be people in different camps than they had previously assigned them to.

And you will hear a preacher speaking of decisions that need to be made. You need to cross the line. You need to make a decision. You need to be in or stay out. (They don’t say that… that’s implied.) There is a very clear line of demarcation. For some it’s baptism. For some it’s a sinner’s prayer. For some it’s a more nebulous “asking him into your heart”, or “trusting Jesus”, “making him your personal Lord and Savior”. Those things are all well and good. The “Sinner’s Prayer” is not in the Bible, but a neat little collection of ideas from scripture in an easily presentable package. All part of living with Jesus.

But I don’t think Jesus was looking at the lines.

I don’t think Jesus approached every person with Border Goggles on, that display the information on current spiritual location of subject within view. “Subject is currently OUT of the kingdom. Employ conversion tactics.” No. Jesus did not seem to treat anyone as though they were in or out of the kingdom. To me, it even appears as though Jesus’ Kingdom was not anything like one of ours. The emphasis is not on the borders or the boundaries. It just is. His Kingdom… IS. It’s reality. It’s almost like Jesus was trying to get us to see how life really is, taking off our blindfolds so we could really see how he made life to be lived. As though we are already IN the kingdom, we just don’t see it. We’re missing it.

I am not advocating an “everyone gets to go to heaven” understanding of the kingdom. Jesus did tell a story of lines when he spoke of wheat and chaff, sheep and goats. There is another source of our line drawing. I do not fault the Christian line-drawers through the centuries, or even today. There is very good reason to see and draw lines. But I am beginning to think the lines are different than we present them to be.

We want clearly marked lines in time where we know if we did this we are in, and if we did not, then we are still out. I think Jesus wanted us to get away from that sort of thought pattern… it’s not about doing, or achieving. It’s about knowing. About loving. About living. The people who were made righteous by faith in Hebrews 11 were those who had some sort of relationship with God. They were far from perfect. They weren’t even necessarily trying to be. They did however know and trust God.

Life should not be consumed by getting people across the line. We are not the Kingdom INS. Letting the legals in and keeping an eye out for illegals. (We are in all fairness a lot nicer than the INS in that we WANT the illegals to become legals. But, the analogy still sort of applies.) 🙂 Jesus was not (that I am aware of) ever really concerned with this. He wanted people to know that God loved them. He told them to love God and love each other. He lived life to the full, and wanted that for everyone. He was so great at helping people see their self worth. He spent most of his time with the people that others hated. The tax collectors, prostitutes, disabled and diseased. Those were Jesus’ companions.

Was there some ritual they completed to enter his kingdom? Did he require something of them? The only thing that he required was that they follow him. Know him. Listen to him. That’s what Father said when Jesus was baptized. “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” He has words of life. He IS the Word of Life.

We keep looking at life with our old Border Goggles. We see lines, and ins and outs. We strive to use every opportunity to keep people in or move them to the decision line if they are not yet within the fold. If we could take off our Goggles, perhaps we’d see that the borders are much different than we think. And that the main thrust of life is not to point out the borders and get people on the right side. Perhaps the best thing we can do is help people see the Kingdom reality that Jesus spoke of. The Kingdom of God is near. Right here. It’s not a place, but a way of life.

People fight over borders. Territory is to be lost or gained. But we are not territory. We are children of the King. Rather than spread the word about borders, why don’t we just help people understand their true identity and begin living life to the full as the children of the Father they were created to be?

It’s not about our entry into the kingdom. It’s about living each day with our King, our Father, and knowing him more each day. About forgiving, and being forgiven. About sharing all that he has given us. It’s about knowing the freedom of his grace and his love. About loving people like he loves us.

Without borders.

Did you ever ask God for something and not get it? You really felt like your motives was pure, your heart was in tune with God’s heart. To your knowledge, there was not any sin in your life that was blocking God from giving you what you were asking for.

But still, your prayers are “unanswered”.

Now, we know that God does not ignore our prayers. Jesus said we should ask and we will receive, knock and the door will be opened. James said if we lack wisdom, ask for it. There are several times we are reminded that God is listening, and that he loves us and wants to hear our hearts expressed in conversation with him. We know that he listens, but still the prayers seem to go unanswered. There is no clear “yes” or “no”. Just apparent silence. Indifference to our request.

But sometimes, after some period of time, we are able to see why there was no response. We may understand in retrospect that the timing of our request was not in line with something far greater than what we had first asked in the first place. God’s knowledge of what is ahead is far superior to ours, and though actually trusting that is often difficult, he still is merciful to us by not granting us our short sighted requests.

I was trying to imagine the flow of all of these sorts of thoughts through the mind of a man who was very close to Jesus as he lived here. His name was Lazarus. He is most famous for not staying dead.

See, I imagine Lazarus had spent much time talking with God about his own future. Trying to understand how all of the recent events had unfolded in his life. Everything had been going so well… with friends and family, his business, God had probably blessed him in many ways that Lazarus, knew and thanked Him for everyday. But when the illness set in, and when it wouldn’t leave… He probably asked God at first confidently to heal his body, and allow him to continue serving him with his sisters here in this life. He may have struggled with that a bit, but Jesus told him to address God as Father, and spoke of such a closeness with the Creator as they had never thought possible. So, Lazarus prayed, and trusted.

But as the days passed, and the illness grew worse, he began to wonder. Did he do something wrong? Why was God not answering? His sisters were praying as well. They had sent for Jesus, but God would not even answer that prayer. Surely if they could just get through to Jesus, he could fix all of this.

Surely.

But there was no answer. And Lazarus breathed his last before he heard any answer (at least any answer he was likely seeking).

What happens when God just doesn’t answer? Does it mean he doesn’t care? Did Lazarus ask those questions? In his last moments, was there peace? Or, was there a very nagging doubt, perhaps even a guilt-driven questioning of his own role in any of this suffering. Did he do something to anger God? Or Jesus? Why did he not come?

We have no record of where Lazarus was for the four days John says he was dead. His body was right there in Bethany. We do not know if he was with God in paradise (like Jesus said to the man on the cross next to him) or perhaps with Abraham and the others prior to the completion of God’s work on the cross? All speculation, and not particularly important at the moment.

What intrigues me is, what did he think when he opened his eyes? What were the first thoughts to cross his mind?

You know when you have some really good sleep and you rouse just enough to know you’re not sleeping anymore, but you’re not too sure where you are. (Perhaps this happens more to us since we are often awaking in an environment foreign to us…) 🙂 It takes a moment, but you finally get your bearings and start coming back into reality. It might be a minute or two more if you were having a very intense dream. Perhaps Lazarus was experiencing something like this times a thousand. Or times a hundred thousand!

Just imagine! He was dead. Dead. Not alive. Cold. Stiff. Lifeless. Then he wasn’t. Ha! That’s nuts. What goes through your mind when you start breathing again after 4 days???

Did he remember the prayers? Were his first coherent thoughts focused on the incredibly power and mercy of his Father? Did he realize that God had indeed answered his prayers? Did he remember thinking that God had not heard him? Did he perhaps recall, as though the last echoes of a powerful dream, the voice of Jesus – the one whom they had longed to reach – calling out his name? “Was it just a dream?” he wonders. “Where am I?”

Taking the incredible first steps out of his own grave must have been a completely bewildering experience. And then to see Jesus there waiting for him. Wow.

I can only imagine.

I sang that song tonight. Will sing it again tomorrow. I have not seen Jesus in person. Lazarus had, but I am sure he was not planning on seeing him again, at least not for a long time. But there he was. Not sure how long it felt like to Lazarus, but I am pretty sure it was sooner than he anticipated, and so, so welcome. So astonishing. So God. Only a loving and merciful God.

He probably noticed the tear streaks on Jesus face. There were probably still tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as a wide grin formed on his weathered face.

His friend had come back. God had answered his prayers. Not how he had expected… I imagine Lazarus was not saying, “Hey God!!! I have a great idea!!! Why don’t you let me die from this sickness, and let’s say I stay dead for three, no… FOUR days! Yeah! FOUR days. Dude. That means I would be REALLY dead. THEN, when Jesus finally gets here, you can show everyone how cool he is, that he IS the resurrection and the Life. My short time of suffering would bring such amazing glory to you – people would see just how merciful, loving and awesome you really are! Isn’t that a great idea, God?!??!?”

I don’t think that’s how it went. 🙂

But I think Laz may have had a different perspective after getting up from that “set back”. I think he may have understood God’s ways a tad more than before after seeing what seemed to be indifference to his requests turn out to be so much greater than he could have possibly dreamed.

Every day was precious. Every moment was something God was using to reveal himself to people around Lazarus. How might any current suffering be used by his Father to show people his greatness again? Perhaps next time he would be dead for FIVE days!! I can almost see the smile on Laz’s face as he tried to out-do God’s plans.

Life looks different from the other side of the grave. It has to. Laz had an amazing chance most of us will never get. Not only to live his life again, but really to see a prayer answered WAY outside of the scope he could have possibly imagined.

God does not see things the way we do. It involved death and four days of dead to get to the place where Lazarus could see that. Where is he ignoring you? Perhaps the story of Jesus’ friend Laz can give you some hope. Perhaps things are not as bad as they seem. Perhaps like Laz, you just need a different perspective.