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What Story Will You Tell?

April 8, 2007

Text: Luke 24:13-35 

Luke 24:13-35 

Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They stood still, looking sad.   18 Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?" 19 He asked them, "What things?" They replied, "The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23 and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him." 25 Then he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!  26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?"  27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.  

28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 But they urged him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over." So he went in to stay with them. 30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" 33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

NRSV 

One of the joys of parenting is being immersed in the lives of your children—the tucking-in’s and waking-up’s; the playing; the going to school things; the walks and picnics, or –my favorite—the going on cub scout campouts in freezing weather, with porto-potties half-way across a rain-soaked field. 

Right now, for my wife and I, this is life, and we love it.

I have to confess, though. Sometimes I start thinking about what life will be like when our children eventually leave home, and when the dog dies. I think of the trips Barb and I can take. The movies we can go to. The golf I can play. And above all, I think of the car I can trade the mini-van in for: I’ll be one of those 87 year old guys using a walker to get to his Corvette. 

But all this is only fantasy. I already shudder to think of what life will be like when the house falls silent, the toys have long since been garage-saled, and Barb and I live for visits with our kids. 

I remember when I’d drive home from college to see my folks. Dad would be pacing in front of the house, waiting to see my car pull up. Then sometimes during the visit he’d grow quiet. I’d ask what’s wrong, and he’d say, “I just hate to think of when you’re going to have to leave to go back.” 

I’d get frustrated with him. Looking back, I now understand his feelings. My life was all in front of me. But a major part of his life would soon get back in the car and “go back.”  

Whatever/whoever you bank your happiness on, you can be sure there will be sadness and grief at some point. That’s the price we pay for being human. 

Just ask the men walking on the Emmaus Road that first Easter afternoon. Here’s what one of them said.  

“It’s been days, but it seems like years, since our hope was crucified. We had hoped he was to be the one to redeem Israel.” 

For these men, their relationship with Jesus was just as exciting and fulfilling as the relationship we enjoy with our children. They were ALIVE when they were around him. They knew that LIFE WAS GOOD, down to the core, when they were with him. 

And then they saw arrested, ridiculed, beaten, and crucified.

No wonder they say,

“We…had…hoped.”

Three of the saddest words you’ll ever hear.  

You ever said them?

“I had hoped I had found my soul mate…I had hoped I had beat the disease…I had hoped my job was secure…I had hoped I would be the first to go…I had hoped my child had worked through her problems…I HAD HOPED.” 

You know, I wonder if the men on the road—I wonder if you and I—don’t get a little satisfaction beginning conversations with, “I had hoped”? 

Let’s face it. There’s a melancholy sweetness in saying that.

When you hear the headlines, “100 People Die in Baghdad…New Terrorist Plots Revealed …City Schools in Crisis…Oil Prices Jump…Britney Checks into Rehab”—When you hear these headlines, you want to curl up on the sofa in a fetal position. What a downer they are! They all say, “See how bad life is? Why hope anything good will happen???” 

Yet, we still turn on the news. There’s melancholy sweetness in saying, “We…had…hoped.” 

That sweetness was on the tongues of those men talking to the veiled Jesus on the Emmaus Road. They tasted it as they said these words:  

“Some women of our group…were at Jesus’ tomb early this morning,  and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive.”  

And I can’t help but think that as Jesus walks beside them and hears this, he feels like holding out both hands, as if to say, “Well???” 

Their pain and sadness kept them from hearing the GOOD news from eye witnesses. You can even read between the lines. In a sexist society, it was easy to dismiss “women’s” testimony. They had to go themselves to the tomb. Jesus’ body was gone, but—hey—it was probably stolen, right? No vision of angels here. 

When you’ve been hurt and disappointed, I wonder how many times God has sent people to you with news of hope, and you’ve gone, “Well, it’d be nice if what you say were true.” Then you sigh, and go on tasting that melancholy sweetness. 

You just get jaded after a while. 

You’ve been hearing the voice of one of the Emmaus Road men. Well, I have an exclusive for you. I have a picture—not a painting, a picture—of one of those men. Do you want to see him?  

OK—here is one of the men walking on the Emmaus Road. 

Yep, it’s Jack Bauer, of the TV show, 24. He was there. It’s as believable to think he was there, as it is to believe that he over the last six years he could survive nuclear bombs, kidnapping, torture, and miscellaneous terrorist acts. Everybody around him has either betrayed him or been hurt or killed.  

So, do you think Jack will believe any “good news” very readily? Of course not. He’s been so jaded that he would dismiss what the women say in a heartbeat. He’s been so jaded, there’s no way he’d recognize Jesus walking beside him. He’s just seen too many bad things to believe that anything good could happen. 

Jack Bauer’s blood flowed through the veins of the Emmaus Road men. And his blood flows through ours as well.  

But Jesus continues walking with these Jack Bauer’s, and he doesn’t go [hands out]. 

He patiently teaches them. He tells them that what the Messiah went through was part of a higher plan. He prepares them for what they were to experience around the dinner table that night with him.  

And when he blesses and breaks bread that night, the men finally see him as he is, and they say,  

“Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road?”   

What a curious phrase, “hearts burning within us.” 

It’s like there’s a slow-burning fuse attached to their hearts. They want to hope again, but the pain’s too deep. They want to live again, but the death’s too real. 

But they keep walking with Jesus, and listening—and finally all that walking and listening pay off.  

Out of nowhere, unexpectedly, the fuse burns down and their hearts EXPLODE with joy—their depression, their hopelessness, their melancholy sweetness, blown to oblivion. SUDDENLY THEY SEE THE RISEN JESUS! And they can hope again, believe again, laugh again, run again like children!  

How true-to-life this story is. 

Why are you here, if not because you want your heart to burn, then explode?

You’ve been walking for a while with Jesus, and you might not have recognized him. You’ve been listening for a while, too, haven’t you? You long for the experience the men had with Jesus around the supper table. But perhaps pain and disappointment have dampened and lengthened the fuse. 

You’ve walked your road—and your journey has now taken you to this place, right here, right now. 

Today know how your journey will end.

Your eyes will be opened. Your heart will explode with joy. Because NOW you know that it’s the RISEN Jesus, not the DEAD Jesus, who has the last word. It’s the PRESENCE of the living Jesus, not the memory of the dying one, that’s real! That’s what the men at that dinner table suddenly discovered. That’s what the women at the empty tomb discovered. That what the disciples, for several weeks after Easter morning, discovered.  

AND…that’s what ordinary people like you and me have experienced for 2000 years. 

The Emmaus Road story isn’t just a pleasant tale. It’s a living picture of what happens when people continue walking and talking with Jesus in the midst of their sadness. They suddenly see the radiance, the power, the glory of the LIVING CHRIST—and the tears dry, and the smile returns, and the tongue shouts out, “HE LIVES!!!!” 

The Emmaus Road story is told anew every hour of every day. 

Just listen. 

So, which story WILL you tell?

The story that begins, “I…had…hoped,” or the one that begins, “Did not my heart BURN?” 

They are linked, you know. There is no Resurrection without first the cross. There is no burning heart without first the moist eye. But the cross and the tear point to what’s real: God WILL NOT let you walk alone. God WILL come to you, perhaps as one in disguise. And YOUR HEART SHALL BURN UNTIL YOUR EYE SHALL SEE! 

Interesting thing: when the disciples’ eyes were opened, Jesus VANISHED.

Why?

Because if he’d stayed, the men wouldn’t do the one thing Jesus wanted them to do:

GO! TELL THE STORY!

GO! TELL THE STORY! 

What are you waiting for?