Date: April 6, 2008 Easter 3

Date: April 6, 2008 Easter 3

Scripture: Luke 24: 13-35

Sermon: Burning Hearts and Open Eyes

*****************************************************************************

This story of the two followers meeting the resurrected Jesus on the road to Emmaus is found nowhere else in the gospel accounts but here in the book of Luke. And so, while we may be familiar with this story, let us sit up and take notice, expecting it to offer a unique perspective for an Easter people living in a Good Friday world.

Cleopas and his companion maybe really shouldn’t be called ‘followers,’ because when we first meet them, they are actually, ‘runners-away.’ “They are running away from Jerusalem, the centre of political and religious power; away from the place of Jesus’ death; away from the possibility of being arrested for having connection with Jesus; away from the perplexing stories of angels and missing bodies” [MCCanada worship resources in Leader magazine, Spring, 2008, p. 32]. While they may not be “running” in the literal sense of the word (after all, their destination was seven miles away), there is no doubt they were turning their backs on dashed hopes, unanswered questions, and a crumpled faith, wanting desperately to leave all of that behind.

The pair is joined by Jesus who is unrecognized by them. His inquiry, “What’s up?” stops them in their tracks as they respond with their own question in words to the effect:

“Where have you been these last few days? Under a rock?”

If only they knew!

They proceed to describe both what they have seen and what they have not seen. On the one hand, Jesus was handed over by the religious authorities who had him condemned to death and crucified. On the other hand, some women reported that Jesus was alive, but no one else from their group had visually verified that. The two disciples couldn’t reconcile either extreme. Consequently, it was like they decided to chuck the whole thing and walk away from it all.

Thank God that Christ’s presence, especially in difficult times, does not depend upon our being in a good mood, understanding the situation, or even calling upon Him. We can imagine the scene described in the poem, Footprints in the Sand:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.

Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.

Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,

other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat,

I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord, "You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always.

But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life

there have only been one set of footprints in the sand.

Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?"

The Lord replied,

"The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand,

is when I carried you." by Mary Stevenson

Often we don’t realize until much later Who got us through the difficulties.

There comes a point when the two disciples stop explaining their story and take their turn to listen. Jesus begins to speak, but what he says is not: “Ta-dah! It’s me, Jesus!” Instead, he engages them in a portable Bible study, teaching them through the entire (what we call the Old Testament) scriptures --that the glory of the Messiah could not be separated from his suffering and death. They had a lot to learn. And so do the rest of us, like the pastor and son in this story:

It was my day off. And the Nanny’s. But, since cemetery workers don’t work weekends, a family from my congregation needed me to preside over a burial from a weekend funeral. So on this bright April morning, my four-year-old and his grandma went for a walk in the cemetery while I prayed with the family at the graveside.

Afterwards, instead of climbing into the car to go home, my son headed purposefully down the hill toward the casket awaiting burial declaring: “I want to see the dead part.”

So it was that I spent the next half hour trying to answer a child’s questions about death. [from an article by Dawn Vaneyk, source unknown]

The travelling disciples knew about “the dead part” not with the curiosity of a four-year-old, but with the personal pain of mourning friends. By the time Jesus spent the remainder of the journey explaining and answering questions about the dead part coupled with the glory of the Messiah raised to life, the burning in their hearts became a sign that they were gaining understanding in their minds.

For them, it took only the time to walk 7 miles. For many of us, while we may expect God to be revealed quickly by a sudden inspiration or flash of lightning, often we come to know God in Christ gradually. A good place to get to know Jesus, the Word-made-flesh, is in the word of God, the Bible. Often it’s tempting to take only the pieces of scripture to heart that suit us or that don’t ruffle our feathers or that we can understand right away. But it is so necessary that we “eat” from all of the scriptural “food groups.” Jesus, after all, didn’t limit himself to one or two Bible verses when he taught the disciples about Himself.

It’s like a man on hands and knees looking carefully at the ground around him. Before long, another sees him and stops to help, asking, "What are you looking for?"

"My contact lens."

After a few more minutes of both of them looking, the newcomer asks,
"Exactly where did you lose it?"

Pointing across the room, he says, "Over there."

"Then why are we looking over here?"

"The light's better here."

Just because it’s hard to “see” the meaning or purpose of a scripture doesn’t mean we won’t find a blessing there. We need to persist, even in the shadowy scriptures and events of our lives, even on our hands and knees there too, expecting to find Jesus waiting to be found. The light of Christ is portable and will reveal Christ himself to us. Our desire to have Jesus revealed in scripture and in life will be honoured.

The men arrive at the village of Emmaus and still Jesus’ identity is hidden. In typical Middle Eastern hospitality, he is urged to stay in the home of the fellow travellers as their guest. Mysteriously, though, the guest becomes the host when, at the table, Jesus takes the bread, blesses and breaks it, and gives it to the others. It is by this “communion” that the risen Christ is recognized. Then, as Henri Nouwen describes it:

“Suddenly the two disciples...are alone again. But not with the aloneness with which they began their journey. They are alone, together, and know that a new bond has been created between them. They no longer look at the ground with downcast faces. They look at each other and say: ‘Did our hearts not burn when he talked to us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?’”

[Henri Nouwen, The Only Necessary Thing: Living a Prayerful Life, ed. By Wendy Wilson Greer, (New York: Crossroad, 1999), p. 181]

While Jesus is ever present along side us, he won’t impose himself. He waits to be invited in. We may know by the burning in our hearts that the risen Saviour is near to us perhaps as we pray, as we read the Bible, as we sit alone in silence, through the words or actions of someone else. But what a shame it would be not to invite him into our heart and life when he is so near. “Every time we invite Jesus into the home of our heart, that is, into our life with all its light and dark sides, and offer him the place of honour... we put our life into his hands. It is our life that he takes, blesses, breaks and gives so that Christ’s life, the risen Jesus, is re-presented to the world” [Nouwen, pp. 175, 176, 179].

We suck in our breath when we hear the word ‘breaking,’ and we’d rather Jesus wouldn’t break us. But positioned between ‘blessing’ and ‘giving,’ the kind of breaking Jesus does results in ‘more.’ Our little loaves-and-fishes-lives become great and new and far-reaching, as even the smallest thing we do or say re-enacts and proclaims the power of God’s salvation in Christ.

Jesus has already chosen to come near. Our choice is to invite him in – or let him go on being an interesting man, but nonetheless a stranger. May we respond to the Holy Spirit’s fire in our heart.

Let us pray:

Lord Jesus, as you trusted your heavenly Father,

help us to trust you,

that you are alive and that your goodness, your truth, your love,

even death and doubt cannot extinguish.

We invite you to take our lives and your church in your hands

to be blessed,

broken,

and given by you to the world

so that others may recognize you

as the living Son of God and Saviour of the world,

to the glory of God. Amen.