PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER
Luke 24:13-35
Stephen Hamilton Wright
First Presbyterian Church, Wausau, Wisconsin                                                       April 6, 2008

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             Watch two men give up.  See two men throw in the towel.  They have seen enough, and they quit.  At least, they are on their way to quitting.  They had seen the terrible events on Thursday and Friday, when their teacher Jesus was betrayed, arrested, pushed around through the legal system, then finally tortured, killed, and buried.  This morning, Sunday, they were with some of the other closest followers when some women from the group came racing back from to announce that the tomb of Jesus was empty.  His body was gone, they said, and they saw angels; so some of the men raced out there to check it out, and they came back with the same story: the grave was empty, and Jesus was nowhere in sight.  Of course, that proves nothing except that the body is gone, and that’s not surprising, with all the passion and confusion about Jesus.  So, they think, that’s it.  The story is over.  It’s time to get on with life.  They leave the scene, heading for an unknown village called Emmaus.  There is no historical or archeological record of this place, and the name doesn’t really mean anything; it’s just a place away from where they are, a place to disconnect completely from where they have been.  They are walking away.  They quit.

             So, while they walk, a stranger shows up.  Out of nowhere, a man they don’t recognize steps in beside them.  He listens for just a bit, then asks what on earth they are discussing.  They stopped at this question.  They looked sad.  “Don’t you know?” they wonder; “Are you the only person who doesn’t know?”  And little do they know that He is the person who knows better than anyone what happened; He was at the center of it all. But “their eyes were kept from recognizing Him”—in the Bible, that passive voice language means that God kept them from seeing, so that they could see something better later.  For now, they are sad, and they give their sorry testimony: “Jesus of Nazareth was a prophet mighty in deed and word, but our leaders had Him killed.  We had hoped He was the one to redeem Israel.  But now, on the third day, some women in our group astounded us with a story that they saw His tomb empty and had a vision of angels.  Some men from our group raced out to see, and they did find the tomb empty, but didn’t see Jesus.”  For them, it’s the end of the story.  The stranger has an answer, though.  “Foolish men, slow of heart!  Can’t you believe the prophets?  Don’t you believe that the Messiah had to suffer to show God’s glory?”  As they walk farther toward their unknown destination, He talks them through Moses and all the prophets and writings, pointing out all the promises about a Messiah.  He is still a stranger, but a smart one.  As night gets close, they urge Him to stay with them.  Hospitality demands it.  You can’t leave a stranger on a strange road on a strange night.  The one who showed up a stranger is here to stay. 

             Now we see the truth.  We see the truth.  In companionship, in fellowship, in hospitality received, we see Jesus.  At supper in their indiscriminate destination, Jesus the guest turns host.  He is always our host.  Because He is the guest, they offer bread to Him first.  He takes it, blesses it, and breaks it, and hands it to them.  Remember this scene?  This is how we start many of our communion celebrations: “According to Luke, when our risen Lord was at table with His disciples, He took bread, and blessed and broke it, and gave it to them; then their eyes were opened and they recognized Him.”  Their eyes were opened: it means that God let them see.  It means that when they were past doubt to the point of giving up, God gave them faith again.  Jesus did not walk and eat with them because they believed; instead, they believed because Jesus came to walk and talk and eat with them.  They changed their minds about what they thought they knew.  In that familiar act, not only from the Last Supper but from so many meals where their Master had played Host before, they saw the one they knew.  The mysterious traveler is the real deal.  Jesus shows us that He is the truth.

             Now, it all turns around.  Watch everything change.  More quickly than He appeared on the road, Jesus vanishes.  Poof!  He vanishes from their sight.  This is no ordinary human presence.  Certainly this is not the same kind of body that laid in the tomb since Friday.  Jesus is clearly alive, though, and clearly in a very different way.  So now, in place of hopeless, aimless wandering, the two followers claim the flame they felt inside as Jesus lit up His story on the road.  At first they could not name what they felt, because without Jesus, they felt empty, and no stranger’s words could fill them up.  Now that they know that the stranger was indeed Jesus, their feelings overflow.  Life turns around.  They get up from the table, already late in the day, and they walk those seven miles back to Jerusalem.  Scripture doesn’t say so, but I think they went faster this time.  They go back to the other disciples and hear more news: not only was the tomb empty, now Simon Peter has actually seen Jesus.  He really is alive!  The travelers add their story, about Jesus on the road, and recognizing Him when he broke bread.  There are still some questions, but now they point a different way.  Instead of looking back, asking what went wrong and what might have been, they have to wonder what’s happening now, and what’s next.  Jesus turns everything around.

             Our story still turns around Jesus.  Jesus lives, so we live.  Hear this clearly: we do not know exactly how Jesus is alive.  The Gospels give lots of signals that His appearances after Easter were mysterious and confusing.  He moves around without benefit of doors or windows; He comes and goes almost like a ghost, so this is no normal body He inhabits, not like the one before Easter.  Yet, there are reports of eating real food, and offering a touch for real fingers.  Those first believers struggled to explain exactly what happened.  What is very clear is that they experienced something that changed their direction.  The effect for us is the same.  When you think the story is finished, there might be another episode.  Whether the subject is faith, marriage, your job, the environment, learning new ways of being in the world, or anything else, be willing to take another step, because Jess is still moving.  When you think you’ve got it all figured out, either for good or bad, think again.  And if you think you’ve got your head around Jesus, or that you have Him completely in your heart, forget it.  He may make your mind race and set your heart on fire, but it’s Him, not you.  It’s His Spirit, and not your devotion.  His Spirit inspires us to keep moving.  We say this over and over: we can’t prove faith, and we actually can’t prove very much about Jesus or the rest of the content of faith.  Sorry, but we really can’t.  What we can claim with confidence is our experience, our story, and that has Jesus right in the middle.  So get up, go, share the story.  Feel the fire.  Let the words race.  Our story keeps going.  Jesus is here.

 Let us pray.

            God our Life: come among the scattered and shattered fragments of our lives, and show us Your presence.  Open our eyes, and set our hearts burning, as we spread the story of Jesus.  Amen.