I sat on my bed. Looking down at my grave clothes smiling. I had been unwell. I am not sure any of us knew how unwell I was. I remember sending for Jesus. We had been friends for what seemed like forever. I passed in and out of consciousness over those last days. I was worried about my sisters. What would become of them? He did not come. I heard my sister saying he was on his way. I only knew heaviness and then….

I spluttered once, and then twice. The dryness of my throat was apparent, and then the stench. Stench? Stench of what? Where am I as my eyes moistened and adjusted. I am dry. It is dark, as I feel for the first-time clothing bandaged around me. But what is it?

I had no idea how long I had been there. I remember my sisters wrapping me in linen when we were children. But where I am I now? It smells… and I remember. Is this it? Darkness. I hear a voice. It is calling my name. ‘Lazarus’.

Lazarus – that is me. I am being called. I see a chink of light. ‘Come out – the voice calls. I recognize the voice. It is him. My sisters were right. He would come. I struggle to move; what am I wrapped in? I shuffle towards the light. I am so weak. Slowly I move, my legs are bandaged – and they seem like I have not used them in ages. ‘Lazarus, Come out!’. My ears seem to retune to the call. I have been unwell. Is this dying? I struggle towards the light. A hand touches my own and pulls me further into the light.

My eyes blink and blink again at the brightness, and I find myself staring into his eyes. It is Jesus. His eyes look like they are on fire. He smiles and laughs. ‘Untie him’ – he commands. I am alive. I did not know I had not been.

Untie me? I remember. Mary and Martha fall upon me. I am not as strong as I was, as the three of us tumble on to the floor as if we were children. Jesus lifts me up. ‘Thank you’. He smiles back at me with a smile that suggests that he had done something easy, as if a greater battle lies ahead.