Now there is peace in the graveyard. The dust is settling and the sun can be felt, if not actually seen.
Lazarus stumbles out of his tomb. He heard a voice - someone calling.
That voice was not plaintive, but insistant, even demanding:
"Lazarus, come forth!" it said.
And so, he comes. Somewhat reluctantly, perhaps. Death is a relief, after all.
All life's agony and pain finished at last.
"Loose him, and let him go," the voice commanded.
So Lazarus finds himself blinking in the light of day, weak and stinky after four days of playing dead. Four days of bugs crawling on his skin and nipping at his eyes.
Someone unwrapped the grave clothes around his hands and feet. He stands wobbly and hesitant, uncertain what to do.
What's your next move when you've gone on to the other side? When life's greatest mystery is a secret no more?
What do you do when there is nothing left to fear?
When you are not scared of being hurt anymore?
When you've lost everything already?
. . . Oh bliss!
. . . Oh joy!