Some might say it was nothing more than coincidence—me walking out of town at exactly the moment he walked in.  Yet not even providence could have arranged that as I followed my son’s casket outside the city to the place I would bury him, the one who claimed to be the giver of life entered town.  He saw my sorrow, my devastation.  Perhaps he heard my heart breaking as I buried yet another loved one.  First my husband.  Now my only son.  How much more could my aging heart withstand? I wondered, so lost in my grief that I barely noticed this man and the crowd following him.

But he didn’t overlook me.  I don’t know what it was, but this man who said he came to give us life and to give it to the full (John 10:10) did just that.  First, he noticed me.  Me.  Not the throng, but little ol’ me.  Then, he looked deep into my eyes and said, “Don’t cry” (Luke 7:13).  What happened next is most remarkable.  He touched my son’s coffin and told him to get up.  And he did!  My boy, you know, the one that was dead, started talking, and I mean talking.

I grabbed hold of my son, fearing I was dreaming.  As I felt the warmth in his skin, I knew this was no dream.  Nor was it something providence or coincidence could cook up.  It was life.  Abundantly.

Well, with my boy alive, it made no sense for me to keep walking to the cemetery, so I immediately changed course.  My son did, too.  So did the others in the funeral procession.  Instead of taking the path leading to death, we followed the One who offers life.  How ‘bout you?  Which path are you on?

Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.  John 14:6