Advent Lutheran Church

"... to let the oppressed go free ... (Lent 5 Midweek)"

            Grace and peace to you from God the Creator and the Lord Jesus.  Amen.

            The Scripture passage that we’ve been using for these midweek Lenten meditations comes from the fourth chapter of Luke, where Jesus sets out his mission.  He reaches into his – and our – faith tradition all the way back to the Old Testament prophet Isaiah for his job description, and tonight we focus on one of the last phrases in that passage: “ … to let the oppressed go free.”

            Interesting word, “oppressed.”  To be oppressed means literally to be captive to the point where one’s life is not one’s own.  We saw a vivid illustration of the concept in last Sunday’s Gospel lesson, the story of the raising of Lazarus.  He was about as oppressed as it’s possible to be: he was dead – his life was definitely not his own; it was gone.  You might remember the story: Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days, dead beyond the shadow of a doubt, when Jesus came to the gravesite and, in the power of God, called him out.  And out he came, alive.

            In the sermon I told the story of Josh, a young man I met when I was preaching at a church in Tulsa a week and a half ago.  Josh appeared at the church before the early service and asked if we could pray, and as we sat in the empty sanctuary he told me a bit about his situation, about what he was dealing with, about the people he encountered every day.  It was clear that illegal drugs were a major part of this young man’s life.  In fact, he was loaded that morning. 

I gave him a blue stone, told him that it signified the presence of Jesus, that no matter where he went and no matter what he did, he would never be beyond God’s reach, never be outside of the love of Jesus.  As we finished praying and he headed back out to the streets, I thought to myself, “It’s going to take a miracle for this young man to reach his next birthday.”  To me, Josh was the picture of someone whose was oppressed, whose life was not his own.

            Since Sunday, a number of you have asked, “Well, what happened to Josh?”  Good question.  I wish I knew, but I don’t; the last I saw of him, he was heading out the door of the church.  But your question redirected me back to Sunday’s Gospel story, about Lazarus, and particularly the ending.  Remember how the story ends?  Jesus calls Lazarus to come out of the tomb, and he emerges; but his hands and his feet are still wrapped in strips of cloth.  Those are the trappings of death, the wrappings that were placed on Lazarus as part of the burial tradition when they laid him in the tomb.  But now Lazarus’ return to life isn’t complete as long as those bindings are still confining him.  So Jesus says to the onlookers, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

            Fascinating, isn’t it, that Jesus doesn’t simply command those wrappings to fall off?  Instead, he tells the bystanders, in effect, “I performed the miracle, but I want you to make it complete.  I want you to free him so that he can actually live the new life that I’ve given him as a gift.”  Josh has been given new life in Christ.  He knows that because I had the privilege of telling him.  But he is still bound, still not free.  He will need others to complete the process of unbinding. 

And so it is with us.  We have been given new life in Christ, but we can’t live that new life fully if we are still bound up in the wrappings of death.  God leaves it to us to complete the miracle for each other by removing those bindings.

            Who is Josh in your life?  Who is Lazarus?  Who is still bound by old habits and ideas and fears that keep them from living a life of joy, of purpose; of living a life that gives life to others? 

What role can you play in unbinding them, and letting them go?

            Amen.