We have a God, a Savior, who touches us - solemnly, profoundly, and with purpose.
And, isn't that just as troubling?
Isn't it so much more desirable to have a God who is at arm's length? Maybe not a universe away separated from us by incomprehension, but certainly not a God intimately reaches out his hand and places it upon us.
We don't do that.
Unless we understand ourselves as hanging on the precipice of birth and death. Unless we realize that we walk a tightrope, and in the balance is life itself.
Because this story isn't just about some guy who is brought back to life. I mean, that's great and all, but this story is about us.
As Luke crafts this story he saturates it in death. There's a woman who's a widow. She now a grieving mother. The corpse of her son is there. It's a funeral procession.
This story has been dipped and coated in death. It wreaks of decay, despair, and grief.
And the one who is dead, is us. And Jesus, reaches out his hand and touches us. And he tells us to get up....
We get so comfortable in life that we think that everything is just normal - that all is ok.
We're "fine." We're "good."
We can even get comfortable in church-life, shuffling along making our way to our pew. Sitting attentively. Behaving. Going up for Communion when it's time, and dropping our money in the plate when the nice man comes by.
We're "fine." We're "good."
But, no we're not.
We're either dead, or we're being birthed by God. And, when you put it like that, touching is just fine. Bring it on.
Bring those calloused hands on, and stop the parade.
This is big. And we have no idea.
from - http://rmcmorley.typepad.com/a-garden-path/2010/05/proper-5c-thoughts-and-exegesis.html
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