Driving on Rewa St a few weeks ago, we passed a dog. He was strangely stiff, laying on the sidewalk, and it crossed my mind that he was dead, possibly hit by a car on the busy road then dragged onto the path. But I wasn't sure.
The next day, I was sure. There he was, stiff as only a dead dog can be, his mangy shape lying forlornly in the exact same spot. It was drizzling rain, and for Fiji, was a cold morning. I felt sad for him.
That afternoon, someone, I guessed a schoolboy, had dragged him just a few metres along the path, and placed his lifeless form on the top of a steep nearby driveway. I wondered how long it would be, until the garbage collectors tossed him in the truck.
The following morning his body was gone. I felt a sense of relief. Dogs here are very neglected. Most are mangy, and half starved. He was better off dead.
Early the next morning, he was back.
I did a double take. Definitely the same dog, or a clone of it, walking.
I got home and told the kids. No one believed that it was the same dog.
We all had our eyes on that spot, next trip past, and sure enough, there was Lazarus, our Un-Dead Dog, doing his Dead Dog impersonation. Stiff as a board. Full rigor-mortis. His tongue hanging limply from his mouth for dramatic impact. A blowfly buzzing overhead. Dead. As only HE could be.
Since then, we've seen Lazarus many times. He is very easy to recognise. He's dead. At least, most of the time.
Jesus said, "Remove the stone." The sister of the dead man, Martha, said, "Master, by this time there's a stench. He's been dead four days!" Jesus looked her in the eye. "Didn't I tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" John 11:39-40 The Message
Lord, how do I limit you with my unbelief? What stones have I put in your way? I give you full access into any tombs within me.