The scene is a summer swimming pool.  The day is hot, the pool is crowded.  The shrieks of children having a good time fill the air.  The life guards sit attentively on their perches blowing their whistles at various acts of rowdiness, maybe to slow a running child so they do not slip on the wet surfaces around the pool.  The scene is the controlled chaos of a summer pool until suddenly a distraught parent comes running up to one of the life guards.  A child is missing.  The lifeguard immediately signals the other lifeguards.  One is dispatched to check the bathrooms, another tries to calm the parent while a third whistles the pool empty while also studying the pools shallows and depths.  Suddenly the lifeguards realize that there appears to be the form of a young child below the surface at the deep end of the pool.  Instantly, one of the guards dives into the waters aiming for the figure below the surface.  A few long seconds later the body rises from the depths and two more life guards jump into the water to assist.  The limp form is pushed to the edge of the pool, strong arms lift the child from the waters.  They turn the body on its side and strike firmly on the back.  Then two guards begin CPR while another rushes to call 911.  The pool has grown completely silent as all eyes are on the poolside drama.  The only sound is a lifeguard counting, “One-two-three—breath; one-two-three—breath”  counting out the compressions and the air being blown into the child’s lungs.  In the distance there comes the sound of a siren.  Suddenly the child’s leg twitches followed by a violent spasm of the chest, water erupts from the child’s mouth followed by a cough and another cough.  The child’s parent cries out the child’s name and the lifeguard turns the child on their side as they cough and cough and then begin to cry.  The crowd erupts in applause and cheers.  One of the crowd is heard to say, “Thank God.  It is a miracle the child survived.”

We don’t use the word miracle a lot in our daily lives but we do know such moments exist.  Most of us can recount a story or two of miracle either from our own lives or from the lives of others around us.  We have miracles of close calls, miracles of survival, miracles of good fortune, miracles of healing.  Most commonly we associate the word “miracle” with the Bible, especially in stories like our first lesson for this morning. 

This is the story of the Old Testament prophet Elijah who had sought shelter at the home of a widow living in the village of Zaraphath.  As the story opens the widow’s only son has fallen ill.  Almost immediately we learn that the child has stopped breathing.  The widow is desperate with fear accusing the prophet of bringing the illness and death upon her son but Elijah takes the child in his arms and carries him to an upper room in the house  where he cries out to God to restore the child and we are told that the child is resuscitated, at which point Elijah brings the child back to the troubled mother.  A near death experience is the phrase we use today to describe such events.  This is the place of miracle in the sense that we cannot fully explain the events scientifically.  Our modern minds immediately wonder, did Elijah revive the child with just a prayer or could it be that he had learned some ancient ritual action practiced in that upper room that would be compared today to our modern CPR practices.  To be sure, the powerful ancient prophet is credited with manifesting God given powers on numerous occasions but the mist of history captured in the retelling of this ancient story parts only enough to reveal that the child was revived and God received the credit through the work of the prophet. 

We probably associate miracles most often with the medically unexplainable.  One doesn’t have to be around modern medicine for long before encountering that which cannot be explained.  There are story upon story of healings that have no rational explanation other than an appeal to the power of prayer and a miracle from God.  Many find a certain hope and comfort in the existence of the medical miracles of our day.  Close encounters with the life threatening.  Certainly we would all like to have the powers that Elijah seemed to have.  It would be nice to be able to call upon God and get the results we want, hope for and desire.  But we know from experience that God is not ours to control or command.  We wonder at a story in which the prophet Elijah has almost magical powers to invoke God’s life giving presence.  None of us would claim to be as close to God, as chosen by God, as Elijah.  But God also showed special favor to the widow of Zaraphath and she was certainly no paragon of faith.  She even accused the prophet of being a cause of her misfortunes.  Why does God choose to restore her son to life?  Our faith and our theology lead us to various answers to this question.  But our lessons for today are not intended to explain the place of miracles in God’s world.  What we are really seeing in our lessons for today is a glimpse of a God both mysterious and gracious.  The central question is a question of life itself.  Actually a question of life and death. 

The other day I was driving back to church from a meeting.  I was headed east on Half Day Road and turned the corner going south on Riverwoods Road toward the church.  Coming towards me I saw a long line of cars all with their headlights on and with small flags attached to them.  I studied the procession for a couple seconds and recognized the lead vehicle as a funeral hearse.  Having grown up in Minnesota and learning to drive there, I immediately begin to slow and pull to the side of the road.  I had always been taught that out of respect I should pull to the shoulder of the road until the funeral procession has passed.  So I sat listening to the radio and watching the various cars of the funeral procession go by.  I watched the faces pass by, some young, some older.  Some clearly caught up in the emotion of the moment while others were engaged in animated conversations of life moving on.  It was a rather long procession.  I sat there for several minutes.  I think I offered a moment of prayer for those who grieved.  And then the procession was passed and I resumed my drive to the church.  An encounter with a funeral procession is not typically an event that engages us on a personal level, especially in our densely populated urban setting.  The odds of us having known the deceased are very unlikely.  So we may pause for a moment to contemplate our mortality as the procession passes but then we move on with our lives.  But to those who mourn, those who knew the deceased, the challenge of moving on is not always easy.  Things are going to be different and the difference is not always easy to embrace.  Those who mourn are left to contemplate the “if only’s” and the “what next”. 

Jesus had been in Capernaum.  He headed south toward Jerusalem around the Sea of Galilee.  A crowd of followers trailed after him.  His disciples and the miracle entourage, those who had been attracted by his message and his miracles.  About 25 miles on he approached the gates of the village of Nain.  Coming forth from the city was a funeral procession.  Jesus had undoubtedly seen such processions many times in his life.  This one was not unlike the many he had seen before.  The line of mourners, the funeral bier being carried by the men with the body of the deceased tightly wrapped in linens prepared to be placed in the tomb.  Jesus watched the faces of those in the procession.  Some were clearly caught up in the emotion of the moment while others were already distracted by life moving on.  And among the mourners walked one very lonely woman, a widow who had already lost a husband and now her only son.  A woman completely alone in the world with no support, no identity, no future.  Jesus could have done the socially and culturally acceptable action.  Slid off to the side of the road and let death pass by.  This was, after all, an anonymous encounter.  There is no indication Jesus had ever met the widow or her son before.  There is no apparent awareness by any in the funeral procession of who Jesus was.  The reputation of the miracle worker, faith healer, calmer of storms and walker of waters had not yet reached the sleepy hamlet of Nain.  There was no voice crying out to him for healing, no one suggesting that if he had only gotten to Nain sooner the young man would not have died.  There is, quite honestly, no clue to suggest that anyone in the funeral procession had any idea who this was meeting their procession.  Jesus could have just stepped aside and let death pass as he had undoubtedly done many times before.  But this time was different.  Instead, Jesus walked up to the funeral procession and told the widow “Do not weep”.  The crowd of mourners looked on in bewilderment as this unknown stranger stepped up to the funeral bier and reached out his hand stopping the funeral procession.  He touched the bier and Jesus said with a loud voice, “Young man, I say to you, arise” and the young man sat up and began to speak.  And our text tells us, Jesus gave him to his mother.  The reaction of the crowd was as might be expected.  They were filled with the kind of fear that accompanies a sense of awe and wonder. Some, no doubt remembered the story of Elijah from the Old Testament.  “A great prophet has risen among us!” they cried.  A few in the crowd of mourners may have grasped the amazing difference in this moment. 

Unlike our first two stories of the swimming pool and the prophet Elijah, this was no resuscitation.  This was not stumbling upon the scene of an accident and offering CPR or even the miracle of healing prayers.  I’m not sure this story even qualifies as a miracle.  It is not just an event for which there is no scientific explanation.  There is no healing ritual, not even a prayer to God.  There is simply a command by Jesus.  “Young man, I say to you arise.”  This is the very creative power of God.  This is a cosmic moment.  The voice of the Lord in the moment of creation.  “Let there be light”.  And with a cosmic bang all life potential burst into being.  A voice calling into the darkness of death.  “Arise.”  This is a glimpse into the very heart and mind of God. 

There were other funeral processions, other young men and women who died too soon.  Why does Jesus raise this particular young man from the dead?  Was his mother that much more to be pitied than any other grieving mother?  Was this young man that much more deserving to be given additional years of life?  Was he destined to do so much more with his life, be that much more important to the future of humanity, that he should be restored to life while others were not?  We know the answer to all these questions is “of course not.”  So what was the point.  The young man would eventually die again.  His mark on history is so small that no one even remembers his name.  He is only known as the widow of Nain’s son.  The point of the story, you see, is not the young man but the one who raised him.  That is the point of all of our stories.  It is not who we are but whose we are.  The miracle that can enter our lives at any moment is the word that calls us to arise. 

There is no good reason for Jesus to choose to raise this young man.  That is the good news for this morning.  There is no good reason for Jesus to bring this young man back to life.  The act was pure grace.  An act of love and life given because God can do that.  God can choose us for no reason.  I think about that every day.  I live in Lincolnshire Illinois.  My children attended one of the best high schools in the country and are blessed with gifts and abilities that came from such an education.  I did not earn my way to Lincolnshire.  My children did not plan to be born here.  But God has placed us in this place as an act of grace and blessing.  An opportunity of grace.  I could have been born in a third world country.  I could have yearned to cross the border to find a new life.  I could have been trapped in a refugee camp.  I could have died too soon from hunger, thirst, persecution.  But by God’s grace I am here. 

Yesterday at the rummage sale our building was filled with people who came looking for items that had been cast off by others.  The very clothing, objects, books, etc. that had lost all value to one person found new meaning to the unknown stranger who picked it up and saw possibilities, use, even new value in a rummage item.  That is the miracle of God’s grace revealed through Jesus.  All creation is renewed.  Even rummage sale items become proofs of God’s transformative power.  Imagine that.  A rummage sale is a miracle from God.

Jesus meets us again this morning.  He does not pass us by.  He sees in each of us possibilities, use, new value.  He gives to each of us new life.  Listen as he speaks, “I say to you, rise!”

Amen