Elias hung, trapped in thick darkness that clung without touch. He couldn’t say if he stood, sat, or lay. Shivering without motion, he pushed against bonds but found none. Of course, he realized. He had nothing to push with. But at least his head stopped hurting. Then he remembered.

He hired himself out to build a house. “The finest in Nain,” they said. How his mother’s eyes glowed when he told her. Food, real food again, the first since father’s death.

Death? He recalled clinging to a rope high on the inside wall. He hammered at the stubborn roof timber. Crack! A glimpse of a falling beam, the surprise of sharp pain, and then nothing. Where was he? Cold invaded, searched, then pierced deep, aiming for his soul. Icy fingers snatched and tossed him into an endless pit.

Suddenly, a voice commanded, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” The darkness trembled then disintegrated into brilliance. He lay on his back, puzzled a moment at cloudless sky, then snapped upright. A crowd of wide eyes and open mouths stepped back a pace.

“What are you looking at? How did I get here?”

No one answered, but a man said to his red-eyed mother, “Here is your son.”

So, what happened the last time the Lord met you on the way to bury your final hope?

Luke 7:11-16; Acts 2:22-41; John 11: 17-43