What About Lazarus?

 Christ called, "Lazarus, Come out!" and a man dead four days appeared at the tomb's entrance, still wrapped in the material in which he had been prepared after death. A great miracle brought to our minds to this day, over 2,000 years after the salvific act by which we are restored to a relationship with Our God. But what about Lazarus. As my pastor noted today, and not the point of the story, Lazarus died, twice. He died and was buried for four days, raised by the Hand of God and then sometime later, and we do not know when, or how soon after this event, he died again, this time to await the Judgment of God.

Now there's another story--what changed in Lazarus on the second go round? He had, apparently, been a good man on the first go round, although the particulars of his goodness are not known to us. But having died and been raised by his Friend, in a demonstration, a pre-cursor, of what could be in store for all, if only we believe in Him, that had to have given him some impetus in his restored life. I wonder if it did. How could waking up in one's own grave covered from head to toe with burial oils and fabric not make a massive, actually mystical impression on anyone? In the beginning, he promised all sorts of changes, I am imagining, he'd be, for example, less impatient with his wife and sister. This second life, a gift, would be one of service. Is that the way it happened? Like to think so, but being human, good intention, even after a big wake up call (and this was the biggest, don't you think?) fades and the difficulties of the day to day erode the will to good, and next thing you know, you are back in that sinful rut.

If it were today, Lazarus would be in therapy, after acting out on the job, maybe, though I have no idea what his actual job was, and be diagnosed with adjustment disorder or Post-traumatic stress (that one really works given the thing that brought him there, coming back from the dead). He'd be telling his therapist what it felt like, and maybe he'd mention a light and some relatives he had seen, and he'd get a gig on John Edwards' to tell how it was, and he'd be making money, and telling his story over and over, and something, the essence, might get lost in translation. God. Jesus, the Way and the Life. Judgment. Reconciliation. Hope that is beyond this world. That he would have to die again, in body, and to self, to achieve something much better than the wonder of wagging tongues and a passing celebrity.

But no one knows what Lazarus did or did not do. Or what he felt or did not feel. But imagine yourself after the same experience. What would you become? What would I?