Greetings friends.
This is Mark Ludman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks.
Welcome to day 32 of Lent.
In the wilderness still held as we continue to walk through John's gospel towards Easter.
Today we'll be continuing in the story of Lazarus in John chapter 11.
But before we go,
Into that,
Just take a moment to bring yourself fully into this time and space.
Take a gentle deep breath in and out.
Allow your whole self,
Heart,
Mind and body to settle.
As today we sit with one of the most dramatic moments in the gospel of John.
Jesus standing before the tomb of Lazarus.
The stone still in place,
Four days have passed now.
Everyone knows what that means.
Decay has begun.
And when Jesus asks for the stone to be removed,
John beautifully records someone's protest,
Lord,
But there'll be a smell.
I think it's beautiful that the scripture doesn't hide that reality.
John doesn't try and push that to the side.
It's very,
Very real.
Death has its own presence,
Its own weight and its own unmistakable scent.
And yet,
Despite all this,
Jesus still says,
Take away the stone.
Now just imagine that scene for a moment,
That heavy stone being pushed aside,
The dark opening of the tomb,
The nervous silence of the crowd that had gathered.
This is a moment of profound vulnerability for everybody concerned.
Because when stones are rolled away,
What has been removed is gone.
What has been hidden becomes visible.
In our lives,
Stones often cover things that we'd rather not face.
Old grief,
Old disappointments,
Maybe old identities that no longer seem to fit.
Things that once had life,
But now belong to the past.
Tucked away in the closet,
So to speak.
But still the invitation comes,
Take away the stone.
I know when this call comes,
It's not to expose or to shame.
But in this situation,
It shows us that this command makes room for life.
Because Jesus then calls into the darkness,
Lazarus,
Come out.
And Lazarus does come out,
Alive.
But something important is often overlooked when we read this passage.
He doesn't just skip out,
He emerges still bound.
His hands and feet wrapped in burial cloth and his face still covered.
Resurrection,
It seems,
Has begun,
But it's not yet complete.
And my friend,
This should be deeply,
Deeply comforting for all of us.
Because many of us experience new life this way.
We begin to emerge,
Something shifts within us,
Hope appears again.
But we're still carrying some of the wrappings from the past.
Those old fears,
Those old habits,
The old ways of protecting ourselves.
You see,
Resurrection at first is often partial.
And that's okay,
Because notice what Jesus says next.
He turns to the community and says,
Unbind him and let him go.
Healing isn't always,
And honestly,
In my experience,
Rarely ever solitary.
Sometimes we need others to help loosen the cloths that still restrict us.
The friend who listens,
The guide who sees clearly,
The community that helps create space for transformation.
We are not meant to do all of our own unbinding alone.
And in fact,
If you've ever been wrapped up,
Perhaps for an experiment or for some other reason,
You'll know how difficult it is to get started.
You need those people to open the first bind,
To loosen it a little bit,
So that you can then move enough to start removing the bindings yourself.
Just take a moment now to sit with this.
Breathe nice and slowly and ask yourself the question,
What am I still carrying that belongs to the past?
Maybe it's an old story about yourself or a disappointment that still shapes how you move through the world.
Just notice what arises.
And then ask this question,
Where in my life am I already emerging,
But I'm still bound?
Where is life beginning again?
Where is something new trying to breathe?
And yet there's still wrappings that need to be loosed.
Now there's no rush here because unbinding takes time.
Even in nature,
Transformation unfolds gradually.
In the wilderness,
Decay and growth exist side by side.
Fallen branches become soil.
Old leaves feed new roots.
Death and life are woven together.
Nothing's wasted.
And the same is true,
My friend,
For us.
The past doesn't have to be erased,
But some things must be released so that new life can breathe.
And so you might ask the question,
Well,
Who might help me unbind gently?
Someone who creates safety or holds compassion.
Someone who allows you to grow without pressure.
Maybe a name comes to mind or maybe simply the sense that you don't have to walk alone.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in.
And as you breathe out,
Imagine the loosening of one small cloth.
Not everything at once,
Just one layer softly.
And as you exhale,
Allow a quiet sense of hope to settle within you.
Life is already stirring,
Even if the wrappings are still there.
Even if the process is unfinished,
You are still emerging.
And that's enough for today.
And as you go into the day,
Rest in the quiet assurance that the one who calls us from the tomb also surrounds us with the help we need to be unbound.
And the invitation to carry into your day is simply this.
Loosen gently,
Release what is ready and allow life to keep unfolding.
And may grace and love go with you every step of the way.
Until tomorrow,
Peace be with you.
