Lazarus' tomb
Source: John 11Lazarus, you didn't realize it, but an angel of the Lord had nestled into the curve of your shoulder.
It appeared as a shadow, gently, as your nails began the futile anarchy of a separate existence.
Before the One called you back, your eyes were filled with tears. The angel took form from the salt. The angel had sought to pay attention to the world, to seek justice, to find a person who was genuinely good, in the image of an angel of the Lord.
Not even you.
The angel took form from black salt like a dead sun, and then slowly allowed your world to collapse. The five pillars that had held up your soul returned to their element, the earth.
The water of your every thirst, the fire that made your spirit sparkle in your eyes, the air that lit up your blood with thousands of stars ... and then, the beginning and end of time, both ends touching in a death-dealing caress.
So Lazarus had died, and his sisters had already been mourning him for four days.
But his soul was still smiling.
The angel had stayed with him, a companion in the night and, even though he had died, his dreams still kept him company in prayer. But when the One who comes, the transcendent one, touched his soul, that soul began to glow again.
The One who comes toward you is not coming from the fullness of light.
He is not waiting for you at the end of the road.
No: he's coming from where you're coming from, and behind him his path, like yours, turns to dust.
