Sunday, April 26, 2020

The Hard Road: Luke 24:13-35



I had a sermon from 1 Peter this morning. But even as I went over it again this morning, I kept thinking about this passage here in Luke, about these two men and their long sad journey. So I am confessing right now, this morning, I pulled out an old sermon dusted it off, cleaned it up and remade it anew for today.  God does it with us, so I figure ever so often I can do it with a sermon.
As I was working on my 1 Peter sermon this week, I kept thinking about these two men and their trip to Emmaus. They are walking and as they are walking they are wrestling within themselves; and struggling.  Wrestling with their sorrow over the death of their friend, their teacher, the one in whom they felt the hope of all Israel, perhaps the whole world resided.  And struggling with what it means for him to be gone. They loved him, they trusted him, and they had put all of their confidence in the future, in him. Now he is gone. And they have not only lost a friend, but they have lost the future they had come to believe was possible with him, in him, and through him.
They are not simply struggling with his loss, but they are also struggling with some very strange news; strange news, brought to them by the women.  The women had told them, they had gone to the tomb early that morning to assure that the body was properly buried. When they returned saying that tomb was empty. Not just that the tomb was empty and someone had stolen his body but that they had seen Jesus. He had spoken to them, not as an apparition but as himself, he was alive. 
What was wrong with these women?  Why would they say such a thing?  Why would they come back with such a ridiculous story?  Had they gone completely and absolutely mad?  Did they really expect them to believe this untenable tale?  
The answers to these questions really did not matter, because this tale now haunted them, bringing forth memories of the last days they had spent with him. It reminded them of his glorious entry into Jerusalem, the meal they shared with him. Reminded them of the last words he spoke to them, of how he looked helpless and hopeless dying, like a treasonous criminal; of his limp body, taken down from the cross.  It brought to mind his mother’s anguish cries as she held him before he was taken to the garden tomb. 
This idea, this story that he was alive tortured them with hope. What would it mean if the women’s tale was true?  What would it mean if he lived once dead?  The idea was too far beyond reality to truly think about.
They walked slowly, their steps heavy with grief, their gait weighed down with the enormity of all that had happened.  As they walked, they talked; as they talked they mourned; as they mourned they questioned, and as they questioned, they wondered at all these things which had so recently occurred.  It was all too much.  Jesus was the messiah; they had thought they were sure of this fact.  But, then he died and he was not.  They had been wrong. They had been duped.  Many false messiah’s had come and gone before Jesus of Nazareth and all them had gone the same way.  They had all died. 
The way you knew a false messiah was false, was that he died.  But, they had been so sure.  They had seen the miracles, they had heard his teachings.  Everything about him seemed so right, so real.  How could he have not been the messiah?  How could things have gone so wrong?  How could they have been wrong?  How did this happen?  And the women, what is up with the women?  Why would they say such things?  None of it made sense.  It was all wrong.  Everything was wrong.
So here they were, on this same day, when the women had come back with their fanciful tale of Angels and a living, dead Savior. And for some reason they decided to head to Emmaus that day. It seems odd to me that they were on this journey and not gathered with the others for comfort, solace and company in their grief and confusion.  But for reasons which can only be speculated and will forever remain their own, they were journeying toward Emmaus that day, and as they journeyed, they mourned, as they mourned they questioned, and as they did these things, a stranger began to journey.  They don’t seem to be alarmed or disturbed by his presence, they just keep talking.  And at some point the stranger asks for clarification about what it is exactly they are speaking. 
The men are dumbfounded.  They stand stock still and stare at him for a minute.  They thought everyone knew what had transpired these last few days.  It was all over Jerusalem, it was the biggest thing on their minds.  He seemed to have been coming from Jerusalem.  How could he not know?  It was the most significant thing that had happened in their lifetime.  The whole world had been turned upside down and ripped to pieces and here this man did not even know what was going on.
So as they begin walking again, they told him.  They tell him everything.  They even tell him a little about their hopes concerning Jesus. As well as telling him about the women and their story.  Then it is this stranger’s turned to be shocked, but he does not seem to be shocked in the manner which they expected.  He is shocked that they do not understand.  And he begins to speak to them of scriptures.  He talks to them about the prophets and opens up the scriptures to allow them to understand that all that had happened in Jerusalem these last few days had been laid out in scripture.  They should not be shocked or amazed that these things had occurred.  In fact these events were exactly what God had told them, through the prophets, would happen to the messiah.  He would suffer and then he would die, and he would rise again.
As he finishes saying all these things, they have just arrived at their destination.  He seems to be going on further but they invite him in, to eat with them, to stay the night with them.  They did not want to part with this man and his wisdom.  They couldn’t let him go on, he must join them.  They want to hear more.  They want to know more.  He acquiesces and comes in with them. 
Once they are there, they prepare a meal and sit down to eat.  Once they have all arranged themselves and are comfortable, he takes the bread, he blesses it and beaks it and gives it to them.  This seemed surprisingly familiar; at that moment they look up and see him, really see him for the first time. It is HIM, it is Jesus. He had been with them all afternoon.  He had journeyed with them.  He had been with them all this time.  The women’s tale was true, it was all true!  And then . . . then he was gone.  They stare at each other, amazed, dumbfounded once more.  They try to speak.  They start sentences, but can’t finish them.  When they do manage to speak they speak over top of one another.  What they have to say comes tumbling out.  “Didn’t, didn’t our heart burn within us?”   “How could we not know?”  “We must go back!” “We must tell the others.” “Right now.”  “Yes, now.”  They grabbed their cloaks and their staffs and hurry out the door. 
Dusk is upon them but they walk quickly.  The world does not seem to be darkening; everything seems to be getting lighter and brighter.  The journey which had taken them all day when they were heavy with grief, trudging along slowly in their pain, takes not even half the time.  They run up to the door of the place where they know the others to be.  They pound on the door in anticipation, the person coming down the steps, moves so slow.  The door is opened, they push past the one who opened it and hurry up to the room.  They begin talking.  They talk over each other, interrupting each other, finishing each other’s sentences.  The story comes tumbling out, excitedly.  They stop.  They look at those who have gathered, not sure what to expect from them.  Will they believe their story?  Will they laugh at them, but instead of doing any of these things; they stare back at them just as excited just as filled with hope.  Those gathered begin to tell their story, just as amazing, just as unbelievable.  Jesus was busy today.  Peter had also seen him.  Just as they finished saying all this Jesus appeared among them.  And all of them get so see him, touch him and know for sure that he was really and truly alive (save Thomas of course).
What an amazing day! Not only is Jesus alive but Jesus reveals himself to them, first over the breaking of the bread and then as they had gathered together just as those who had seen him bear witness to this. 
These two men have had a truly remarkable day.  Jesus walks with them, talks with them, teaches them and brings them to a new understanding, revealing to them the truths that can be found in scripture and then in a recreation of their last supper, he reveals himself to them.  These two men receive an amazing Easter revelation.  An amazing revelation indeed, Jesus was with them. 
They were broken hearted, they were confused, they were sorrowing, they did not know what to do and Christ came along and walked with them, talked with them, gave them hope, gave them understanding.  He had journeyed with them down their darkest road, on their darkest day.  They did not know it; they did not realize it at the time. Although they wondered after how they could not have known, but even if they did not recognize him, he was there with them the whole time, guiding them, comforting them, being with them, and speaking truth into their lives.
Right now, it seems we are walking down a pretty dark road. We are living through one of those times when the future is uncertain and our todays seem dark.  Our hearts are heavy.  Our spirits are crushed.  It seems that our hopes have been shattered. Any travel plans we had in the next few months, anything we may have hoped to do this summer.  We look around and there seems there is no way to make plans for the future because we literally cannot imagine what live might possibly be like in June or July, much less next fall. 
We are walking through a long dark tunnel and there seems to be no light in sight. We are living in a time in which we all struggle.  We all mourn the lives we once had.  We and for differing reasons we are all hurting.  We ache for small pleasures we once took for granted which are gone right now. We long for the presence of other people.  We feel as if we are alone.  We feel as if things will never be “alright” again.  And perhaps they never will be.  Our lives will never be the same again.  We do not know if the pain and the sadness, the crushing feeling in our chest, the weight with which we walk through this world, will ever go away. 
As we think about the situation we are in right now we can relate to the feelings these disciples were feeling that day. We have all been on this kind of journey, had these kinds of conversations.  We have all been there, are there right now.  There seems to be no hope on roads like this one, they seem to end in nowhere good.  Emmaus was nowhere special, it was just where they needed to be that day and they headed out because there was nothing else to do but trudge forward, fumble their way through the day, through the rest of their life.
But the road did not merely take them to Emmaus.  The journey was not as bleak and gray as they had expected.  A stranger met them that day.  A man drew up alongside them, walk with them.  Gave them hope, gave them truth, bore their burden journeyed with them, in their pain, and sorrow; journeyed with them through their grief and along that long road that day.  And at the end of the day when they had learned what they needed to learn they saw what their pain and grief would not allow them to see, over the table, through the breaking of the bread, they saw that Christ was with them, had been with them all along the way.
When we are on this tough journey it is hard to see the truth.  When we are walking through the pain, in the moment of grief, when we are full of sorrow it is easy to believe that we are alone, that our burden is too great, that God has abandoned us, left us alone to muddle through these horrible things we are going through.  But this is simply not true.  Jesus was there with those men as they journeyed through that dark day.  Jesus walked beside; them taught them and guided them, even when they did not see that it was him. 
We may not see the hand of God in our lives right now; we may not feel the presence of Christ as he walks beside us, but that does not mean that we are alone in this.  Feeling alone and abandoned does not mean we are alone and abandoned.  Sometimes (more often and we would like to admit), our feelings lie. The fact is, no matter how much it seems to be true, we are never alone.  Even in our darkest days, no, especially on our darkest days, when the road seems too long, the skies too dark, with the future more uncertain than ever before, our Savior is with us.  In fact our savior is walking with us, journeying with us, right there with us, even if our eyes are clouded and we cannot see.
When we are hurting, when our lives are thrown into chaos, when it seems as if there is no hope or light in our future, it is easy to cry out, wondering why God is not there.  It is easy to not see.  Some days are the kind of days when we are acutely reminded of what we have lost, reminded of what we never had, but wish we had had, reminded that thing were not, have not been, are not how they “should” be, and that loss opens up a deep dark hole in the fabric of who we are. 
Some days there seems to be no end to the pain, to the sorrow, to the loneliness.  We hurt, we cry out.  Our journeys seem too long, our burdens too hard to bear.  And there will be days that feel like this.  Days that show us all too clearly how broken these lives which we live here on this earth truly are.  But on these dark days, our Lord is with us.  We may not see him.  We may not even realize Jesus is there, but he is.  And there is hope.  There is life where there seems to be only death.  There is light in the darkness.  There is Heaven where there once was nothing but Hell.  We may not see it now, but Jesus is with us, walking with us, talking with us, guiding us, directing us, teaching us, bringing us comfort and speaking truth into our lives.  We may not see him now, but someday, sometime in the future, we will be communing with him, drawing close to him, and he will be revealed to us.  His hand on our lives will be seen and we will turn to those around us and say, “How did we not know?  Did not our hearts burn with in us?  How could we not see?”
But the hope does not end there, we can’t hold this truth and this hope inside us, let it warm our hearts and bring joy to us, today.  We must be willing, as these two disciples did, to go, run even and tell others.  Share with them what has been revealed to us.  Share with them the one whom has been revealed to us.  There are two Easter revelations in this story.  Christ is revealed the first time at the breaking of the bread, in the shared meal with the Lord, Jesus is revealed again at the sharing of that which was witnessed.  The truth of the resurrected Lord comes when we draw close to God and to one another at the Lord’s Table, and Jesus himself reveals that he is with us along our journey.  But Jesus also reveals himself at the sharing of the truth of the gospel.  Christ is revealed when we speak the truth of who he is, and what he has done.  We come to see Jesus journeying alongside of us as we join him here at the table, but Jesus also reveals himself when we go out and speak the truth of his resurrection, when we get up from this table, go out from this place and take the truth of the gospel back to those whom we love, back to those with whom we share our lives.  The truth of Jesus Christ, his assurance, his love, his comfort, his peace is given to us when we gather here and it revealed to us, but it is also revealed when we then get up from here and go out there and take what we know, and the one whom we know with us.




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