6.26.2011

Out of Death and Back to Life

     “Everyone will come; everyone will come to my funeral to make sure that I stay dead.”  I recently heard this song lyric rumbling through a TV commercial for a video game.  Hearing it, I absently filtered out the video game and focused on the song.  In just 30 seconds, it drew me in, an intriguing image, compelling me to Google the commercial to find out what the song was.  The song was “Four Rusted Horses,” by the ever-controversial Marilyn Manson. 
I could picture the funeral mentioned in the song: The grass, mowed short and straight by a meticulous groundskeeper, would look bright green beneath the dark, crisp black suits and dresses of the men and women standing around the coffin.  The coffin, shimmering, glinting in the sunshine, would be at the center of the gathering.  To a casual observer, the funeral would look like any other.  A crowd of people, dressed formally, would be standing around, watching the pallbearers step in slow, precise steps towards the rectangular hole in the ground.  But a closer look would reveal something quite different.  There would be a crowd of people standing at a distance, casting anxious glances in the direction of the casket.  They would be fidgety with faces full of nervous tension.  Even those in the funeral procession, those closest to the coffin, closest to the dead man inside, would not be able to mask their unease, sweat dripping down their foreheads.
Instead of tears and mourning, there would be a mixture of wide-eyed confusion, jaw-clenching anxiety, and looks of stoic determination.  As the casket would be lowered into the ground, a few of those watching would breathe a sigh of relief, and hurry away as quickly as they had come.  Others, refusing to leave their vigil, would continue to stand by, watching, while their feet would gradually make imprints in the soft ground.  They would not leave their watch until the last scoop of dirt was in its place six feet above the coffin.  Even then, they would leave with caution, silently stepping away, trying not to look back at the grave as they left.
“Everyone will come; everyone will come to my funeral to make sure that I stay dead.”
In much the same way, I can imagine Satan looking on at Jesus’ death with the same sense of cautious unease.  When Jesus was on the cross, Satan had stood by, anxiously watching the outcome, until finally Jesus’ side was pierced and he was entombed behind a giant stone.  Satan could hardly believe it.  He had actually done it.  He had killed the Son of God.  And the Son of God had stayed dead.
For three days.
But on the third day, long after Satan had left his vigil to go throw his celebration party, Jesus Christ arose.  And walked.  Out of the tomb.  Alive.
Out of death, and back to life.
He is the resurrection.  He is life.  Those who believe in him will live, even though they die.
“Everyone will come; everyone will come to my funeral to make sure that I stay dead.”  But I will not stay dead.  Will you?

(John 11:25)

No comments:

Post a Comment