Come Forth


Rev. Debora Fonteneau
Rev. Debora Fonteneau

(c.2011)

Reverend Dr. Debora Y.

Fonteneau

Last night, I dreamt of Lazarus, who never grew old. Preserved in musty sheets, mottled papyrus, lore, and mystery Put out to sea, but not alone, condemned to preach freedom from death. Friends, neighbors, crowds, were his undoing, jealous of a respite from rest.

Certainly he sat, helping to mend their nets; lent a hand in stable building, no less Ably pitching in to dig the village cistern; paying the Roman tax without cheating. Sponsored wakes, funerals, and feasts. Those who ate betrayed goodness.

No wonder Lazarus hesitated to come forth at the Savior’s bidding.

Tossing and turning against sleep’s clout; the dream would not let go. Who can tell what all went on behind the Bethany tomb’s stone door? While Jesus wept; two sisters hoped; proud skeptics prattled and scoffed;

Lamentation reached beyond Jordan, before Lazarus obeyed the call: “Come forth”.

My dream did not tell, how death left for life, about the final translation. It only instructed me to ”be forthright, revisit the scene— make the gospel live—“

Confess the Christ; believe; “preach good news without hesitation.”

Last night I dreamt of a small boat carrying a born again man and two sisters. Four oars would have to do for crossing over from Bethany to France The Captain pronounced “foul”, unwelcome by the Roman government With the help of the Lord, and a favorable wind, small chance The gospel would survive in a far country where pagans did not know One God, Holy Spirit, and a Savior, too, dealt death a final blow.

The sailing wind, encouraged the crew: “Row on from sea to land!”. Frothy billows tossed the swaying craft, signaling: “’Come ashore’” It is His command”. Some traditions say Lazarus did not live long, after the Savior was crucified.

Alive, awake too much evidence, the best defense that the King is still alive. What pain to be dismissed from the grave, to Europe from Palestine

Mary, and Martha, soon strangers in a world brand new— on the briny dispatched When love became a crime.

Some recognize the Resurrection and the Life whether bound in grave clothes, rags, or lace Plain, loosed from the shroud, Eternal Redemption walks near us; Shall we behold Its’ face?

“Poor sainted soul, ” Fated to never die, in your rising, God’s sacred trust As surely as the crucified One lives, Lazarus still walks among us.


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