Up From the Grave

A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, March 22nd, 2026:
​Fifth Sunday of Lent

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Ezekiel
37.12-14

Thus says the Lord God: “I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people.

“I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act,” says the Lord.

Pause. Pray. ​Reflect. 

​I have to admit, the first image that popped into my mind as I read these verses from Ezekiel was a bit like a zombie apocalypse. Graves being opened a skeletal figures clumsily trying to stand. As funny as this is, I don’t think it is what the Lord wants me to understand about this prophecy. As I read, re-read, and meditated, some deeper truths began to reveal themselves.

A grave can symbolize death – not only physical death but spiritual death as well. A separation from God, leaving us in exile. This separation goes all the way back to the garden of Eden, where Adam and Eve chose to not trust in God’s goodness. They allowed the shiny, red apple with its false promise of fulfillment to distract them from the beauty and security of a loving relationship with God. This type of distraction happens to me all the time. Work, my phone, food, TV, and even good things like ministry can draw my attention away from Him. And every sin is another shovelful of dirt out of the grave I am digging for myself. 

This is why I am grateful for the season of Lent. Lent was a season I dreaded when I was a kid, because it just meant giving something up that I liked – and not really understanding why. But now I see Lent as an opportunity to draw closer to Jesus. Giving up worldly comforts/distractions is a small sacrifice to enter into a deeper relationship with the Lord. 

For much of the year, I admit I am focused on “doing”. My head is down and I continue to shovel away, thinking I am getting somewhere. And in a way, I am. I am getting further away from God, and further away from being able to crawl out of this grave on my own. Lent calls me to put down my shovel and to turn my gaze upwards; to stretch out my arms like a toddler asking to be picked up and held. I recognize my littleness and my inability to pull myself up out of this pit. This recognition of my own poverty also allows me to call upon the mercy of our Saviour, our Abba, our Father. With unending compassion for His little child, Jesus reaches in and gathers me into His arms. He dusts me off and breathes new life into me. He restores me to the land of Israel – the place of His presence, the home where His forgiveness brings me back into right relationship with Him. And truly, there is nowhere else I would rather be.

As we approach Easter, I pray that we can all savour this special season of Lent and allow our prayer, fasting, and alms giving to fuel a deeper, childlike dependency on God’s providence. Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, pray for us. 




Lisa Matheson

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