Said this
Go back and read through the run up to this statement. There’s no incantation for the dead. No straining. No pleading. No repetition. In fact it appears there’s not even a direct request for anything to happen or any power to be granted to Jesus. He only says he has confidence the Father hears him. Jesus has to live like we do and we all have access to two things: choice and faith.
Loud
Why loud? Surely not for dramatic effect or because there was too much crowd noise. I can’t imagine these people making a lot of hubbub around Jesus at this point. I envision the crowd stunned to silence by all that’s transpired. And graveyards are not normally loud places - they’re kind of like libraries, they demand silence. I just got a thought: how loud was it when Jesus rebuked the storm? I see that as the opposite of this; noise all around, wind, waves, panicked men. Be still. Almost a whisper. But now Jesus is the storm. He is the wind. He is the waves. This shout is going to send a shock wave through the earth. Death has no more power to keep what it has taken. Is this an angry loud shout? Or is it the winning shot in the tennis rally? No one could return this shot. It’s a clean winner. The feeler is still here. The emotions are still high. It’s ok to shout, but don’t ever believe volume is power. Lazarus doesn’t come out because Jesus is loud. Jesus isn’t loud to get Lazarus out of the grave. He didn’t have to speak at all. For that matter he didn’t have to come all the way to the grave side to raise the dead man. The loud shout isn’t for Lazarus, it’s for us. It’s our sonic reset. Let it go through you now. Right now. Feel it come out of the page, out of the text. Let it blast away all the lesser voices. Let it blow away all the fear and doubt inside. Let it wash away your own death. No. No! No!!!!!!!!!! I got up every morning for years only to hear the threat of my impending death; my mortality. Every day the same thing repeated over me. You are going to die. It was as regular as the sunrise. I lived under it all day every day. And then one day I came alive. And I got more alive every day and every day more and more alive. One day I noticed I got and heard how alive I was and would be forever. Death fled. Life got too loud for it to hang around me like a cloud. Religious people would tell you that you’re the one who must say life words to yourself. It’s up to you. All I can say is they’ve never been dead. They’ve never been dead enough. I had no words. I had no life. He said it. He shouted it. It rolled through me like sweet deep bass driven music. It started my heart. It made hope real. It made sense to think about living and no longer made sense to think about dying. It was him. It was his words. It was me lying in the grave - and I’m not talking here of salvation, I’m talking about life. Dead in trespasses and sins is only one kind of dead. Dead in hopelessness and fear and helplessness is altogether different. There is a death that believers die that Paul talked about. Dying to self. You won’t. He will show you the cross. If you take it, you will die and the only way to life will be his call to you. Broken people have a care; you are closer to the kingdom than you think. His voice still opens tombs.
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