I think I kinda understand what you’re saying Chila.
I’ve found though, sometimes you have to explain.
My experience, not really anything like hers, went like this.
“Michelle died in Ireland. Due to spiritual and emotional abuse on the Missions Field she died. DOA. She was murdered by the Religiosity in the Church. It wasn’t her fault, and for a long time she huddled in her grave-clothes looking at all the living people around her and wondered why she hadn’t been saved. Other people got to recover and bounce back. Other people weren’t fatally wounded. Why not her? She had to explain to those she met in the church that she was dead (that’s why she stunk and was unpalatable to them) and she had to explain that she was wrapped up in a shroud (which is why she couldn’t worship) and every so often people shoved her back in the tomb to keep her silent. I mean, having a zombie-christian lurching around the sanctuary just wasn’t to be tolerated! New life! Over comers! Victors! That’s what the church wanted everyone to see. Then, He came along. Oh, she’d known Him before. He’d actually asked her to go to Ireland. She was furious with Him. He could have prevented her death and He didn’t. Really, it was His fault she was a christian-zombie.
He hung out with her in the tomb. He didn’t leave no matter how bad she stunk. He didn’t mind that she no longer worshiped like everyone else. One day He asked her if she wanted to live again. She threw a brick at Him, but He dodged. She told Him that had to be the stupidest question one person ever asked another. He told her she’d be surprised at the number of people who didn’t want to live again, who were happy in their grave-clothes and tombs. Life came with risk. It came with free will. It was easier to stay dead than to be resuscitated. The Religiosity of the Church had left her alone when she was dead. If she lived again, well, it wouldn’t be happy. Michelle thought about what He said for a long time. She’d watched Him do things she couldn’t do. She’d seen Him going places she wasn’t able to follow because of the grave-clothes. He was having adventures. He was having fun. He was hanging out with some cool people. He spent time with her, was there for her, always. But she started to want to go with Him when He had adventures. She had to choose. She also had to get help choosing. He didn’t mind that at all. In fact, He showed up at her sessions.
One morning, she woke up, and hurt more than she had hurt in decades. She sobbed deep messy snotty tears, roared angry hurting words, and then as He held her, she let go of those that had helped to kill her. He breathed life, His own breath into her mouth, and she became a living being. Now, Michelle is not dead, but she was. And the Religiosity of the Church snarls and stabs at her and claws at her. But she smiles, and dances. She learned Lazarus’ secret. When you’ve died, and come back, death is no longer a terror. The Religiosity of the Church has lost its greatest weapon. She knows who really has the power of life and death. And, she’s much more interested in having adventures with Him, than fearing the Church.”
I suppose, that might just make her dangerous. Which, when I think about it, was probably His plan all along.
Did she have to hurt to become dangerous? I don’t know. I do know that Lazarus hurt. But he didn’t stay dead, and neither has Michelle. When Lazarus was resurrected, the Pharisees sought his life too*. He was that dangerous. So is she. Why? He knew the truth, wasn’t afraid of death, and most importantly, was a friend of Jesus. She knows the truth too, isn’t afraid of death (it’s hard to be afraid of something you’ve gone through once all ready and you know what is on the other side) and this is her glorious hope. She’s a friend of Jesus’ too.
Why am I sharing this? Why am I referring to myself in the third person? Well, because I’ve had several people talk about deep death-hurt they’ve had recently. I want to encourage them that they don’t have to stay in their grave-clothes. And, Chila posted about it.
Ideas are contagious. Now Scribes, here’s a challenge for you: Blog about your own death. I’ve told you how I died. Tell me how you did. Let me see the glory and power of the One who Was Dead and Is Alive Forever More in your life!
Encourage one another, Scribes.