Have you ever noticed that it’s hard to talk about things when you are going through them? I’m not sure if it’s because you don’t have the words or the emotions are too high. But either way, sometimes you have to let time pass before you can share with others.
About 18 months ago I had a serious head injury that resulted in a concussion, vertigo, whiplash, and I lost ALL my hair within 21 days. Needless to say, I was a broken mess. Not just from the accident, but from loss of identity. I found myself asking continually “who am I and how did I get here?”
It’s hard when you go through something so traumatic. It’s as if a part of you has died and yet the “new you” is yet to be seen.
Being made new is something I have struggled with. I kind of liked my old self and the life I had created, so much so I held on to it with a tight fist. But what I’ve realized is that resurrections still take place, but you must die to self first. Say what? Yes! Die. To. Self.
That truth is hard to process. I just said I like the life I created. And maybe that’s just it, I’m hanging on to everything I want now unaware of what God has in store for the future. You might say, I like to be in control.
I go to my garden and see beautiful flowers that were once dried up seeds. In my minds eye I would consider them dead, but yet new creation came. And the past few months I’ve seen caterpillars surrender to their cocoons in hopes of a new life. Each willing to die to be made new.
And here I am — fighting the process, this dying to self.
There was a sick person in the Bible that I’m learning a lot from — Lazarus. (If you don’t know his story, you can read it here.)
Lazarus was loved by many, fell sick, and “fell asleep.” Just a nice way of saying he died. Many questioned Jesus and why he wasn’t there and why he didn’t do anything. These were some of Jesus closest friends, so I can imagine the questions they had.
But isn’t this exactly how we react when tragedy hits. We ask and wonder the same, “Jesus, why weren’t you there? Jesus, why did you let this happen?” I can’t even tell you the number of questions I’ve asked of him that last 18 months. Numerous!
But Lazarus had died a physical death, much different than a death you might have dealt with if you are reading this. Maybe instead, you’ve dealt with a spiritual, emotional, relational, marital, or even financial death. All death is hard. These deaths leave you in a dark place and you feel like you were placed in a tomb. You are numb and disconnected, feeling chained up.
There is hope if you are in that dark, damp, stinky tomb.
When Jesus finally arrives at the grave of Lazarus, he calls out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”
And guess what? Lazarus comes out with his hands and feet still wrapped in strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Did you hear that? Lazarus came out — stinky, smelly, and covered with cloth. He wasn’t beautiful, but he was resurrected!
Jesus spoke and Lazarus took the first step. It wasn’t pretty — heavens, he was still draped in smelly grave linens. But he did what he could at Jesus command. He stood and took a step.
Coming out of the tomb is a process.
“This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are.” (Romans 8:15-17 MSG)
Like Lazarus, I’m ready to leave the tomb. But I’m realizing while dying to self is a hard process, so is resurrecting. However, I’m going to fight through and follow in Lazarus’s steps. Of course, it all starts with Jesus command “Come out!” I hear it. And I can finally say, I’m ready.
I raise my head though it’s weak and tired. I look for the light outside the tomb and I can see it through the grief and hurt. I sit then slowly stand. I’m a little slow, wobbly, and smelly after being in a dark place for 18 months.
Each day, I take wobbly steps pushing through until it feels good. Maybe this is the life of my garden plants too — pushing through, looking for light, becoming stronger each day.
And yes, one day soon I’m sure I’ll stand tall as Lazarus and my plants. I’m pushing my way towards walking in a resurrected confident manner adventurously expecting what God has in-store for the future.