Next Door Savior by Max Lucado
Most people stand quietly as funeral processions pass. Mouths closed. Hands folded. Reverently silent. Not Jesus. He approached the mother of the dead boy and whispered something in her ear that made her turn and look at her son. She started to object but didn’t. Signaling to the pallbearers, she instructed, “Wait.” Jesus walked toward the boy. Eye level with the corpse, he spoke. Not over it, as a prayer, but to it, as a command. Young man, I say to you, arise. An hour later Jesus and the guys were eating the evening meal. He laughed at a joke and asked for seconds on bread, and the irony of it all jolted Peter. Who are you? He wondered so softly that no one but God could hear.