By Deacon Timothy Siburg
Revised Common Lectionary reflection, Fifth Sunday in Lent, Year A
March 22, 2026
Key Verse: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?”–John 11:25-26
Have you ever found yourself confronted with grief, pain or disbelief, and then suddenly another problem or reason for sadness emerges? Have you ever found yourself uttering, “What now?” If you are feeling this way, then know that Jesus especially meets you where you are at, just as he met Martha and Mary where they were at after burying their brother, Lazarus, in the tomb.
The stories in the Lectionary readings this week are reminders of what God can and will do. They are reminders of life and resurrection. They might also feel a bit different this year given the reality of the world around us-
-Bombs deployed.
-Ships sunk.
-Lives lost.
-Neighbors disappearing.
-The constant feeling in the back of one’s mind, heart, and soul, that there has to be another way.
If these sound familiar, then know you are not alone.
It’s precisely into a world as uncertain and in disarray as ours that God comes to be among us, with us, and for us. In the time of Ezekiel, God entered a world so far beyond despair that in spite of what might have seemed obvious, God says to dry bones, “I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live” (Ezekiel 37:5). The dead will not remain so. Death will not be an end. We also hear, “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live” (Ezekiel 37:14). This isn’t idle talk. This is a declaration of who God is and what God will do. “You shall live!” Three words without question. Three words which stand in contrast to what our eyes and minds might tell us, and certainly what the ways of the world might suggest.
The Apostle Paul speaks of God’s gift and promises of life: “To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace” (Romans 8:6). Amid whatever life might offer, God’s presence and promise of life and peace are abundant and steadfast. Paul continues, echoing Ezekiel, “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you” (Romans 8:11). God will give life to you and your mortal bodies.
This promise resonates from a stewardship perspective when we recall that all that we have and all that we are, belongs to God’s. It is God who provides our life, breath, and very being. It is God who provides and entrusts us with all that makes us who we are. In remembering that it is God who gives us and entrusts us with our life itself, how might that shape the way we live and serve? How might it shape and influence our questions and dreams, hopes and fears, and wondering and imagining?
Has this Lenten season felt a bit different for you? Perhaps the cross has felt more like a sign of comfort than death as the weight of the world around you feels so heavy? Perhaps the presence of the cross has loomed large, convicting you to not just turn back towards God and repent, but to turn towards your neighbors to reconcile and meet them where they are at as signs of God’s gracious love? The psalmist sings, “O Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is great power to redeem” (Psalm 130:7). The Lord embodies steadfast love. The Lord has the power to redeem. This is what God can and does do.
Outside of Jesus’ own crucifixion and resurrection, this promise is no more clear in the gospels than in the story from John 11. We hear the full experience of emotions and humanity. Of hopes, grief, sadness, despair, joy and belief. Of everything in between life and death itself. Jesus’ disciple Thomas, seemingly committed or resigned to what lies ahead, says upon departing for Judea, “Let us also go, that we may die with him” (John 11:16). Life with Christ is a cruciform life. It’s a life with the cross at the center, where God – in Christ’s arms – are outstretched, not just in death but also in love and prayer for all of God’s beloved of all times and places.
That same love is on display as Jesus shows up and hears from Martha (John 11:21) and Mary (11:32), “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Jesus meets the grieving sisters where they are at, and ultimately joins them in their weeping. Even amid the tears, Jesus shares words of conviction. He declares to Martha, “Your brother will rise again” (John 11:23). This isn’t a question. This is a declaration. It’s a promise.
Jesus proclaims to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” He then asks, “Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26). Do you believe this? It’s not dissimilar to when some liturgies (such as baptism’s) ask worshipers to affirm the creed: “Do you believe in God the Father? … Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God? … Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit?”
To Jesus’ question, Martha provides the response for all of us, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world” (John 11:27).
As the almost unbelievable events play out, Jesus makes several short but strong commands. First, “Take away the stone” (John 11:39). Once the stone is removed, Jesus commands, “Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:43). Three words. Three words the echo from Ezekiel’s “You Shall Live!”. Finally, Jesus says, “Unbind him, and let him go” (11:44).
Two weeks before we celebrate Jesus’ own resurrection we remember the promise of the resurrection through the story of Lazarus. With God, death does not have the final word. And this promise elicits a response.
As stewards of God’s love, we are first and foremost stewards in response to what God has done, will do, and promises to do. As those first witnesses, we respond first through questions, wonderings, and belief. Like them, we respond because of what we sense and witness (11:45). We believe. And we join in with God’s beloved people in responding to God’s promises and good news. We join in and meet our neighbors where they are at, coming alongside each other as Jesus himself comes alongside us. We do so because this is what life looks like when we’ve been set free from sin and the fear of the bondage of death. We do so because this is what life might look and feel like when we truly embody God’s promises and declaration, “You shall live!” Not for ourselves, but for our neighbors. Not because of anything that we might have done, but because of what God has done and will do.
In Worship and Congregational Life
Since the beginning of the latest hostilities in Iran on February 28, I have had a psalm response constantly on loop in my head. It’s based on Psalm 46, but to me, it also is a declaration that God’s love and presence endures. No matter the griefs, pains, or horrors of the world, God’s love stands and we will not fear. Perhaps, in thinking about the realities of death and life, a timely inclusion in worship might be a psalm response or a sung response between prayer petitions, such as “Though the Earth Shall Change.” The words of the response flow, “Though the earth shall change, though the mountains tremble, though the waters rage, you, God are here. Though the nations war, though the peoples battle, though the empire falters, we will not fear.”[1] “We will not fear.” By making this declaration as stewards we are reminding, believing, and declaring that the promise that “You shall live” is real and that it guides us and leads us to respond and serve as stewards.
Worship with Youth and Children
Some stories just lend themselves to songs. And some songs might feel a little too funny and joyful for Lent. Such might be the case with “Dry Bones.” But the old Sunday School song based on the first lesson from Ezekiel is filled with fun rhythm, imagery, and possible dancing and actions. It might even lead the Children of God of all ages to stand up and move their bodies and their bones a bit remembering that the bones moved with the life from the Spirit because the word of the Lord declared it. Perhaps on this last Sunday in Lent before Holy Week begins, this old song might just bring a little life, levity, and even perhaps a bit of faithful resistance to the forces of sin and death in your faith community.
[1] Rolf Vegdahl & Tom Witt, “Though the Earth Shall Change” as found in All Creation Sings, (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2020), 1035.
Previous reflections for Lent 5A:
2023 – Into (and out of) the tomb with Lazarus
2020 – Unbind and let go
2017 – Hope for Dry Bones & Stinky Sinners
2014 – Mindset
2011 – Bones, boldness and belief
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