I look down at the address one more time, narrowing my eyes and rapping hard on the door. I hold my breath as I hear footprints thudding down the hall, and the door swings open, revealing Joshua standing there with an easy smile on his face.

I’m not wearing a cloth this time, or anything to cover my bald head. I simply stand there looking at him, watching his take in the sight of my chemo and struggling to look like it’s not a big deal. I give him a forced smile as he gestures me in and opens up the door widely. “I’m so glad you came, Alyssa.”

I chew my lip thoughtfully, peering through the door and into the brightly lit hallway. The house is huge, far bigger than Mum’s, with lots of spaced out furniture and all of the windows open. The decorations are relatively simple, but somehow familiar and warm.

He clears his throat, and grabs my hand, leading me into the house. I realize that he’s waiting for me to say something, so I mumble an agreement and shut the door behind me, folding my hands together and following him aimlessly down the hall. I hear voices in the kitchen, and I see Marya walking out from behind the door, her face lighting up when she sees me.

“Alyssa, come join us,” she says quietly, and she links her arm around my shoulder as we walk into the kitchen and sit down at a long, wooden table. Joshua and Marya sit down next to each other, and I sit down across from them, my heart thumping in my chest.

Marya rests her head on her hands and stares at me with a deep expression on her face. They’re waiting for me to speak, I realize, but I have no idea what to say.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I say finally. “I have… a lot of questions.”

“I’ll try to answer them as best I can, Alyssa,” Joshua says, giving me a small smile that somehow makes my fear drift away. “But first tell me more about yourself. I don’t know you very well, except through Marya.” He winks at Marya, and she giggles, making a strange sort of anger rush into my heart.

I don’t know why he’s doing this, and I wonder if he’s stalling. I’m sick and tired of waiting, I just want the truth. So I say, slowly, “There’s not much to tell.”

“Sure there is,” he says smoothly, and I try to fight the disgust curling in my heart. I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but it’s not what I came here for. I came here to hear the truth. And I don’t know what to say now.

Marya cuts in for me, and her familiar voice reminds me that she’s still there supporting me. “Joshua, let’s talk about the book, for heaven’s sake.”

He looks over at her with doubt in his eyes, but then he looks back at me, and he says, “Okay, geez, I was just trying to-”

“Now is not the time,” I interrupt him, and the sharpness in my voice surprises me. I ignore Marya’s glare, and dribble my fingers along the edge of the table frustratedly, gritting my teeth together to stop the anger crashing within me. “Look, I didn’t come here to hang around discussing the weather. If you have something to say, then say it. If you don’t, then thank you for wasting my time, I actually thought you had something to offer for once.”

“Ouch,” Marya mumbles under her breath, and I flinch, waiting for another stinging comment. But all she says is, “That hurt, Lyssy.”

“Sorry,” I say quickly, regret twisting inside my stomach. I take a deep breath, fumbling for the right words and struggling to know what to say. “What I'm trying to say is that if this is true, this changes everything. And I'm not going to waste my time with awkward small talk.”

“Okay,” Joshua agrees, and his indifferent manner sends hurt and frustration uncoiling within me. “Where do you want to begin?”

I flip open the Bible on the bed next to me, and scroll to the page that I remember contains the words I want. 876. John 11. He looks at me carefully as I hand him the book. “Here.”

He takes the book gently and begins to read the story out loud, his deep, rumbling voice capturing the story in perfect detail and beauty. He reads about Lazarus, a friend of Jesus on the verge of dying. Lazarus is sick, in horrible pain, desperate for the only person to come whom he knows can help him. Jesus has performed many miracles and helped many sick people before, and Lazarus and his sisters cling to the hope that Jesus will heal Lazarus too. But instead, Jesus waits, choosing to stay where he is instead of visiting and offering to heal Lazarus. By the time he finally arrives, Lazarus has been dead for four days. His sisters are devastated, both confused and angry about what Jesus has done. Both of them individually say the same thing: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” They know that Jesus would have healed him, but they are confused and upset about why he didn’t. They lead him to the tomb, and Jesus begins to weep, moved with compassion and sorrow towards his dead friend. He asks that they open the tomb, and although they are confused and unsure about the request, they trust Jesus, and out of complete faith in him, they do so anyway. He prays to God, beginning not by begging God and whining, but with a simple word of thanks. He praises God for always being there for him, always listening to his prayers and doing what is best for him. Then he cries out, “Lazarus, come out”, and Lazarus appears dressed in burial clothing. He has risen from the dead.

Joshua’s lilting voice rolls to a stop, and he looks at me and Marya both very thoughtfully, a strange, deep look in his eyes. “Have you heard that story before?” he asks Marya, and Marya wordlessly shakes her head.

We sit there in silence for a long time, each of us running over the words in our mind and treasuring them in our hearts. None of us really know what to say, but the silence is enough. The grand impossibility of the story and the depth of meaning hidden within it is unlike anything else I have ever heard. I want so desperately to believe that it’s true, but I don’t understand what it means. Or what some guy a long time ago should have to do with me.

“Why did Jesus wait?” Marya asks, her hands folded in her lap. “Why would he let the sisters suffer and watch him die when he could have healed Lazarus from the beginning?”

Joshua pauses with the Bible nestled on his lap, licking his lips and looking at Marya carefully. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. He gives her a small smile, and I see him looking at me out of the corners of his eyes. I feel lost and confused, waiting for answers but tired of people avoiding giving them. I know that there’s more, and I’m not leaving until I hear it.

“But I do know that Jesus had a plan.” He gestures down at the book and leans forward, a faraway look in his eyes. “A plan for his glory to be revealed to the rest of humanity. He says in verse four that Lazarus’ sickness would not end in death but in the glory of God. Jesus recognized that healing could happen, and I think the healing that he was talking about went far beyond physical healing. Jesus was going to show them who he was, and reveal his power to them. And he couldn't do that unless he let Lazarus die.”

“But why would Jesus heal Lazarus if he only died again afterward?” I say sharply, doubt tugging at my heart.

Joshua's eyes crinkle together and he looks at me in bewilderment. “What do you mean? Lazarus lived through it- Jesus raised him to life again.” His voice is slow, each word cautious and careful.

“So can I meet him?” I ask skeptically, shooting a quick look at Marya and then turning back to him again.

He gives a small laugh, as if not sure whether or not I’m joking. “Of course not, Alyssa, this was over two thousand years ago-”

I cut him off. I’ve heard enough. “So he’s dead.”

He stares at me with understanding slowly creeping across his face, and I know he knows what I mean. He rubs the back of his neck, and he looks unsure how to respond, but finally, he says, “Yes, Alyssa, he’s dead.”

“Then how can I know that we’re dealing with a healing that lasts?” I murmur, raising my head and looking at him directly in the eyes. “How can I be sure that whatever Jesus can give me won’t just fade away?”

He sighs, and there’s compassion in his eyes when he responds. “Alyssa, do you think Lazarus would have asked to live forever if he had the chance?”

I think for a second, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know Lazarus, the book never shows the story from his point of view. So I say simply, “I don’t know.”

He nods, and something about the way he’s looking at me sends a shiver tingling through my fingertips. He pauses for a second, studying me, and then says, “Do you think you would ask to live forever if you could?”

My first reaction is an automatic 'yes', to say that of course I would, it’s natural to. But my tongue catches on the roof of my throat and I realize that I’m not sure I would. I stop suddenly, unsure what to say or what to feel. Finally, I mumble again, “I don’t know.”

Joshua nods thoughtfully, and I see Marya nodding right along with him. A slow peace trickles over my skin, and something about the words that he says makes me feel warm inside- happy, even. But then he says one more question, and for a brief second, I stop breathing. “Do you think that a fulfilling life is the same thing as a long life?”

I shake my head, pressing my hand to my heart and feeling it’s slow, steady beating. “No,” I say simply.

“So what would a fulfilling life look like to you?”

I don’t know what to say, don’t know how to explain all of the feelings that are rushing through my head. So I say the simple words again that I’m tired of saying but don’t know what else to say. “I don’t know.”