Luke 24: 13 – 35 – The Bumpy Road to Emmaus – Sunday April 26, 2020

Here is the service for this Sunday via You Tube:

Here is the service as audio only:

 

And here it is in written form:

The Bumpy Road to Emmaus

Luke 24: 13 – 35

 (preached on April 26, 2020)

 Have you heard of an organization called Gowns 4 Good?  If you want to check them out, their website is gowns4 – that’s the number 4 – good.net.  Gowns 4 Good takes gowns that would have been worn at graduation, and converts them into protective gowns for health care workers to wear as they care for the sick.  When I heard about Gowns 4 Good, I had mixed feelings.  I was impressed by the innovative spirit of the young man who founded the group, a student from Vermont (Springfield Republican, 4.20.20, p. 1).  At the same time, though, I was really sad to think about all the students who won’t be wearing those gowns this year.

Traditional graduations are being cancelled because of the corona virus.  What a disappointment for all those students.  What a disappointment for their families, to miss the traditional graduation celebration.  I’m sure the schools will celebrate graduation in another way or at another time.  But the familiar June ritual won’t happen this year.  For students and their families, that’s a big disappointment.

At one time or another, disappointment hits all of us.  When it comes, we might feel something in common with the followers of Jesus, at the beginning of our gospel passage for today, from the gospel of Luke.  The two of them are walking along the road to the village of Emmaus.  It’s late in the afternoon, a couple of days after Jesus’ crucifixion.

Emmaus is west of Jerusalem, so they are heading into the sunset, hoping to make it to the village before dark.  As the shadows lengthen behind them, it feels as if the sun is setting on all their dreams.  Talking together as they walk along, they’re nearly overcome with sadness, trying to make sense of the things that have happened.  The more they try to make sense of it all, the harder it is to find anything good about the last days of their beloved Lord.

When a stranger joins them, they don’t try to hide their feelings.  When he asks what they’re talking about, they share the whole sad tale.  Their faces darkened with grief, they tell of the death of Jesus.  Their voices deep with disappointment, they say, “We thought he was the one to redeem Israel.”  We thought he was the One to save us.  We thought he was the One to fulfill the hopes our people have cherished for generations.  But now he’s gone, and we don’t know what to do.

We don’t know why these followers of Jesus are heading to Emmaus.  Maybe it’s their hometown, where people will know them and welcome them, and take them in.  Or maybe there’s work to be found in Emmaus and they need to get back to work.  Or maybe, after all the heartache of the last few days, they just need to get out of Jerusalem, and Emmaus is the only place they can think of to go.

Whatever the reason, they’re moving, on the way somewhere.  But for you and me, when disappointment hits, it can be hard to keep going.  Disappointment can stop us in our tracks.   Disappointment can carve a hole in us, like a wound that won’t heal.  Sometimes we make it even harder by telling ourselves we have to, as the saying goes, get over it.  We tell ourselves we have to just get on with life.

We live in a world that doesn’t have much tolerance for the long, slow walk we have to walk, before that wound of disappointment heals.  We live in a world that likes the quick solution, the instant fix.  Our world seems to think that every loss can be recovered from in a short time.

But in reality there are losses that we simply have to let ourselves feel.  If that’s the case, the best thing to do is take our time, sit with our sadness, let ourselves experience the sorrow that comes with disappointment.  Sometimes the best thing to do is give ourselves time to mourn, to grieve, to accept that we can’t bounce back in a day or two.

One little girl knew that very well, as she explained to her mother one day when she came home late from school.  When the mother asked her daughter why she was late, the girl explained that, while she was walking home, she met another little girl who was upset because her doll was broken.

The mother said, “Oh, I see.  You stopped to help her fix her doll.”

“No,” the little girl said, “I stopped to help her cry.”

As they walk along the road to Emmaus, the two friends are also shedding tears.  When Jesus falls into step beside them, they don’t know who he is.  Luke tells us their eyes were kept from seeing him.  Maybe the late afternoon sun is in their eyes, making it difficult to see.  Maybe their grief is so deep that it’s too much of an effort to lift their heads and look him in the eye.  Or maybe they’re so preoccupied that they just don’t think to look closely at this stranger walking beside them.

But when they get to the village, and invite him to join them, to break bread with them, their eyes are opened and they recognize him.  Their eyes are opened and they realize who he is.  They realize that the person who had walked with them, and listened so attentively, was their dear Lord Jesus.  They realize that the one who helped them understand the scriptures, and chided them for their slowness of heart, was none other than the risen Christ.  They recognize him in the breaking of the bread.

My friends, when disappointment hits, it can be hard to handle. You might want to take some time to feel the sadness.   The road you’re walking might be bumpy, and your steps might be slow.  But remember the God we know in Jesus Christ wants to walk with us.  So, as you go along, don’t be surprised if you sense someone quietly falling into step beside you.  Don’t hesitate to share with him what’s on your mind: the sadness and the loss.  Don’t hesitate to ask him to break bread with you.  Because in the breaking of the bread, you will meet the One who longs to heal you.  You will meet the risen Christ, the One who makes you whole again.

 

Rev. Elva Merry Pawle

Easter 3

 

Here is a piano piece to enjoy and to soothe you called “My Jesus, I Love Thee”:

Here are the lyrics:

My Jesus, I love thee, I know thou art mine;

for thee all the follies of sin I resign;

my gracious Redeemer, my Savior art thou:

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus ‘tis now.

I love thee because thou has first loved me,

and purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree;

I love thee for wearing the thorns on thy brow:

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus ‘tis now.

I’ll love thee in life, I will love thee in death,

and praise thee as long as thou lends me breath;

and say when the death dew lies cold on my brow:

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus ‘tis now.

In mansions of glory and endless delight,

I’ll ever adore thee in heaven so bright;

I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow:

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus ‘tis now.

Words: William R. Featherstone

Music: Adoniram J. Gordon

 

 

And an organ piece as well called “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee”:

 

Here are the lyrics:

My Jesus, I love thee, I know thou art mine;

for thee all the follies of sin I resign;

my gracious Redeemer, my Savior art thou:

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus ‘tis now.

I love thee because thou has first loved me,

and purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree;

I love thee for wearing the thorns on thy brow:

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus ‘tis now.

I’ll love thee in life, I will love thee in death,

and praise thee as long as thou lends me breath;

and say when the death dew lies cold on my brow:

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus ‘tis now.

In mansions of glory and endless delight,

I’ll ever adore thee in heaven so bright;

I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow:

If ever I loved thee, my Jesus ‘tis now.

Words: William R. Featherstone

Music: Adoniram J. Gordon