read John 11:1-45 | Ezekiel 37:1-14
commentary | Rev. Danielle Shroyer
To be quite honest, very few things feel more ridiculous
than hope these days. We’re facing a world of climate emergency, war, a growing
immigration crisis, a terrifying surge in hate groups, rising global fascism,
technological overload, and, in case we forget, an ongoing pandemic. If fear
were an energy source, we could all power our homes and cars for a year. What
kind of particular insanity is a Christian, who stands before all of this and
says: “God is love. Peace is the way. Justice will arrive.”
If God personally came to my door and asked me if this world
was going to make it, most days I’d probably say no. I’m not even sure our
country is going to make it. How will we not fracture under all of this
pressure, all of this collective anxiety wreaking havoc on every institution
and system we have?
The good news for us is that God doesn’t seem as interested
in that question. The question God has for Ezekiel is something else entirely:
“Can these bones live?” God doesn’t ask if it’s likely, or if the forecast
looks promising. God doesn’t ask for pie charts and percentages. And, perhaps
best of all, God doesn’t say, “Do you know how you’re going to get out of
this?” Because God knows, Ezekiel feels just as overwhelmed by that question as
we would.
God asks: “Can these bones live?”
This is a question not of probability, but possibility.
What God wants to know is: “Can you see past the rubbish,
the damage, the crisis, the violence, the signs of decay… and can you imagine
that life still lingers there? Do you dare to believe—and even trust—that the
power of life does not ever go underground in such a way that God cannot revive
it in glory?”
Many years later, Mary and Martha must answer this question
in the face of two contradictory realities: their belief in Jesus, and a
brother who has been dead for three days. They understand enough to know that
Jesus brings life. But now this question asks more of them: “Do you have faith
that life is possible, always?”
Jesus resurrects Lazarus for many reasons. But I want to
believe that a good part of his purpose was to answer that question for all of
us who will exist on this side of Easter. Can we trust that life is always
possible in God? Can we find hope, and even faith, when we are sitting in a
valley of dry bones and literal death?
God doesn’t ask us to believe the situation will get better.
God asks us to believe that life itself will not, in the end, cower under the
pressure of human destruction. Abundant life persists. This is what makes it
eternal.
Even when we have that trust, God asks for more. God
commands Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones. Jesus told those gathered to unbind
Lazarus and let him go. This ridiculous, radical hope is ours not only to hold,
but to proclaim.
Where is fear or cynicism holding you back from seeing life
right now? Can you find glimmers of God’s abundance even in this valley of the
shadow of death?
Reflect: Where is fear or cynicism holding you back from
seeing life? Do you have faith that life is possible, always?
*reprinted with permission from A Sanctified Art
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