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“UNBIND HIM, LET HIM GO FREE!”

By Tom Corrigan

There was a person named Lazarus who lived in the village of Bethany with the two sisters, Mary and Martha, and he was will. It was the same Mary, the sister of the sick person Lazarus, who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair. The sisters sent this message to Jesus, “Lord, the person you love is ill.” On receiving the message, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death, but in God’s glory, and through it the Son of God will be glorified.” Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, yet when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed where he was for two more days.....

Jesus said, “I am the resurrection. If anyone believes in Me, even though he dies he will live, and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?” “Yes, Lord,” Martha said, “I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world”......

Jesus said, “Take the stone away.” Martha said to him, “Lord, by now he will smell; this is the fourth day.” Jesus replied, “Have I not told you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?”.....

When he had said this, he cried in a loud voice, “Lazarus, here! Come out!” The dead person came out, his feed and hands bound with bands of stuff and a cloth round his face. Jesus said to them, “UNBIND HIM, LET HIM GO FREE!”

John 11 : 1-6, 25-27, 39-40, 43-44

Who is that person in the tomb? Who is the one in the midst of friends and loved ones, yet often separated from them; who is the one unable to find even in those closest, the depth of communion and understanding and trust and mutual sharing that ought to be there? Who is Lazarus?

Who is that person - in the midst of a wonderful world of things and experiences, yet imprisoned in a hectic schedule, blinded by worries and fears, sealed off from the joy which a person senses could be theirs!

Who is that person - aware that within there is a potential to create and give; aware that somehow he or she could be quite a different person, yet they remain entombed in guilt about past failings, fear of what other people will think, continually cutting down and compromising on hopes, wondering if things ever will be different, afraid really to look at inside for fear the sight might be disgusting?

Who is that person - surrounded by voices speaking of the meaning and purpose of life, feeling in the deepest heart that God must be somewhere - a God, like Jesus, to whom he or she could give without reserve - yet living in doubt and mystery and fear, somehow ignorant of what the voices are saying?

Who is that person in the tomb? Who is the person Jesus loves, over whom he weeps, to whom he speaks? Could I be that person? Could I be Lazarus? Could this story of resurrection be my story?

What is that well-known and well-loved voice saying out there beyond the walls of my tomb? “Take away the stone.” Is he serious? Does he really want to look into my life, at how I really feel?

Can he stand the sight of my broken promises, my poisoned thoughts, my worship of petty things, my failures in love? Can he stand the corruption of my heart, he whose hopes for me have been so high?

In my heart I know the answer to that question. He already has seen written on his own body and in his own wounds the measure of my sin. And He forgave. From the very midst of his agony, HE FORGAVE. That is the sort of love I can trust.

If only I could accept his live for me. Maybe I could confide my fears to him. Maybe in the power of his compassion I could face myself.

Now the stone is rolled away. I can see the light through my bandages. I can feel the warmth of the sun. I hear his voice again. “......Come out!”

What is he saying? Does he actually believe that I can walk out into a new life? Does he really want me to be with him? Does he truly feel that he wants me, right now and right here? Does he seriously hope that I can lead a new life, that I can leave death behind?

It is all so sudden. I know so little about life out there with him. I have been where I am for so long. Out there in the new life is risk and pain. I know it. Perhaps I ought to wait.

Yet, suppose he is right! Suppose I really can get up and walk with head high and eyes open! Suppose I could really be a new person! There is authority in that voice, firmness and assurance. If he believes I can begin anew, perhaps I can! He believes in me; Shouldn’t I believe in myself? Perhaps waiting out there with Jesus is the person I was meant to be. It is time for me to wake up, to get up, to walk out!

How did I get here - standing in the sunlight, the murmur of amazement around me, a strange joy within? If only the cloth were taken from my eyes, I could see the light which I am sure is all around me. My bandages are bonds. If only I were free of them, my mouth, my hands, my feet could speak the love my heart now feels.

“Unbind him; let him go free.” Friendly hands, stripping away the vestiges of death, helping me struggle back to life. It will take time, I know.

It has taken years for me to screen out of my vision the pain in my neighbour’s eyes, to stop listening to his voice unless it concerns me, to keep my hands from reaching out to his except when he has something to give me, to persuade my heart that what I feel, what I think, what I want is the most important thing.

It will hurt, I know. The old rationalisations and prejudices and defences, those goals and values and habits are all a part of me now. Ripping them away will draw blood. But go they must. I thought I was preserving my life, but I was slowly losing myself, slowly entombing myself in sin. The old patterns must go. I want to be free; I must be free. I will welcome the pain. It is the joyful anguish of a new birth, the small price I must pay for life in abundance.

The cloth is off my eyes. The light is dazzling, almost blinding. But there he is, the one who called me. He speaks again.

“I myself am the resurrection and the life; the person who believes in me will live even thought he dies, and anyone who is alive and believes in me will never die at all.” I see him but dimly. I know him only a little, but one thing I know. In him is life. With him I could never go back to the darkness, never give in again to death. With him by my side I couldn’t really die, not now - never!

Now I must speak. The time has come. There is only one thing to say: “My Lord and my God.!”

Who is that person in the tomb? Who is the person Jesus loves, over whom he weeps, to whom he speaks? Could I be that person? Could I be Lazarus? Could this story of resurrection by MY story ???

Tom Corrigan