The Road of Hope

Luke 24:13-35 Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. ¹⁴ They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. ¹⁵ As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; ¹⁶ but they were kept from recognizing him. ¹⁷ He asked them, "What are you discussing together as you walk along?" They stood still, their faces downcast. ¹⁸ One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, "Are you only a visitor to Jerusalem and do not know the things that have happened there in these days?" ¹⁹ "What things?" he asked. "About Jesus of Nazareth," they replied. "He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. ²⁰ The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him; ²¹ but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel. And what is more, it is the third day since all this took place. ²² In addition, some of our women amazed us. They went to the tomb early this morning ²³ but didn't find his body. They came and told us that they had seen a vision of angels, who said he was alive. ²⁴ Then some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but him they did not see." ²⁵ He said to them, "How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! ²⁶ Did not the Christ have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?" ²⁷ And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself. ²⁸ As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus acted as if he were going farther. ²⁹ But they urged him strongly, "Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over." So he went in to stay with them. ³⁰ When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. ³¹ Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. ³² They asked each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?" ³³ They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven and those with them, assembled together ³⁴ and saying, "It is true! The Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon." ³⁵ Then the two told what had happened on the way, and how Jesus was recognized by them when he broke the bread.

Last week was the NFL draft. Everyone from the sports experts to the draftologists to the fans all thought the Detroit Lions did the best in the draft. Mel Kiper, from ESPN, gave his highest draft grade to the Lions with an A-. The Lions fans are ecstatic. They are boastful. They are proud. They are already flying their Lions’ flags in front of their homes, wearing their Lions’ ties to work, and buying up season tickets. They are eager to build on their success of being the last NFL team to beat the Green Bay Packers.

Lions’ fans are hopeful. The only problem with this hope? They are still the Detroit Lions. They will disappoint. They will dash their fans hopes into the artificial turf.

That’s how the fans and disciples of Jesus must have felt. Their hopes and dreams were sky-high on Palm Sunday with the triumphant parade of palm branches in the air, cloaks on the ground and hosannas ringing in ears. But all those fans seemed disappointed and their hopes dashed on the dark Friday afternoon as Jesus’ dead body was laid in the borrowed tomb.

The disciples had staked their lives on this Jesus from Nazareth. Everything they had. They thought He was the One. A prophet powerful in word and deed. He made blind men see, the lame to walk, the deaf to hear, the demon-possessed to be dispossessed. He raised the dead. They hoped He was the messiah, the promised One who would redeem Israel. And then in one short week their hopes and their world came crashing down around them. Jesus was dead, buried, and now nowhere to be seen. Rumors of resurrection didn’t provide any comfort. Even the reports of a vision of angels rang hollow. It was all too confusing. All too hopeless.

They were hoping for the throne, Jesus gave them a cross. They were hoping for glory, Jesus bowed His thorn-crowned head in humility. They were hoping for triumph, but Jesus gave them the tomb. They were hoping for the answers to all their prayers, but they were praying for the wrong results. They were praying for their kingdom to come, but Jesus suffered, died and was laid in the grave so His kingdom would come.

It is one of the most compelling narratives in all of Scripture. So fascinating is the scene that Luke records it in detail. So gripping a tale that it’s good enough to make a movie out of it. Two disciples are walking down the dusty road to the village of Emmaus, a 7 mile journey from Jerusalem. Their talk concerns the crucified Jesus. They have a dirge-like pace to their feet. Their attitude is like they’ve just come from a funeral – and in essence, they have – Jesus’ funeral.

The walk is slow, but the questions come quickly: “How could Judas do that?” “Why wasn’t Peter stronger?” “Why did the high priest hate Jesus so much?” “Why couldn’t Pontius Pilate have been more forceful?” “How could Jesus let this happen to Himself?” “What do we do now?”

Just then a stranger comes up from behind and says, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing you. Who are you discussing?” They stop and turn. Other travelers make their way around them as the three stand in silence. Finally the one named Cleopas asks, “Where have you been the last few days? Haven’t you heard about Jesus of Nazareth?” And he continues to tell what has happened.

This is a fascinating scene – two sincere disciples telling how the last nail was driven into Israel’s coffin. God, in disguise, listens patiently, His wounded hands buried deeply in His robe. He must have been touched by the faithfulness of this pair of disciples. Yet He must also have been a bit chagrined. He had just gone to hell and back to give heaven to earth, and these two were worried about the political situation in Israel.

“But we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.”

But we had hoped. … How often have you heard a phrase like that?

“We’re hoping to get pregnant soon.”

“I was hoping I’d feel better by now.”

“I’m hoping to get back to work.”

“I hope he asks me to the prom.”

“We had hoped the surgery would get all of the tumor.”

“We were hoping to go on vacation, but we can’t afford it now.”

“We were hoping Mom would come home from the hospital, but God had other plans.”

Words painted gray with disappointment. What we wanted didn’t come. What came, we didn’t want. The result? Shattered hope.  Disappointment. Despair. The foundation of our world trembles. When hopes are crushed, the pilot light goes out in our eyes. There is no more deadening feeling than to feel hopeless.

We trudge down the long road to Emmaus dragging our sandals in the dust, heads down, shoulders stooped in defeat. We’re wondering what we did to deserve such a plight. “What kind of God would let me down like this? I had hoped it would be better than this.” Our eyes are so tear-filled and our perspective so limited that God could be the fellow walking next to us and we wouldn’t know it.

You see, the problem with our two heavy-hearted friends was not a lack of faith, but a lack of vision. It wasn’t a lack of hope, but a hope in the wrong destination.

Those two disciples, walking to Emmaus that Easter night, had one thing on their minds – the cross. They looked at what happened and compared that to what they had been hoping for, and they came to this conclusion: the cross ruined everything! If it hadn’t been for the cross, things would have been great.

We are not much different than those weak and heavy laden travelers, are we? We roll in the mud of self-pity in the very shadow of the cross. We piously ask for God’s will to be done and then have the audacity to pout if everything doesn’t go our way. If we would just remember the heavenly body that awaits us, we’d stop complaining that He hasn’t healed this earthly one yet. We act terrified of losing our home in this economy, not remembering that we are strangers here and heaven is our real home (1 Peter 1:17). In Christ’s economy, He who was rich became poor, so that we through His poverty might become rich (2 Corinthians 8:9). 

We feel hopeless, down and in despair when the cross comes into our lives, too. When our hopes and dreams meet the detours of trials and failure and suffering. When sin comes crashing down on us, we make wrong choices, or we become unwilling pawns in someone else’s game. When it seems as if things are out of control. We wonder if God sees or knows or cares. And we look at what has happened and compare that to what we had been hoping for, and we too can come to the conclusion: God ruined everything! These crosses are not what I wanted. If only He would take them away or mind His own business or do what I want, things would be great.

But God won’t do that. He simply loves you too much to pamper your sin, indulge your idolatry, and raise spoiled children. And so Jesus came to those two doubting and disappointed disciples and showed them how the cross was not a surprise and was not life spinning out of control – but that the cross was necessary. His death was necessary. Not for ruin, but for good. Not to shatter hope, but to give hope. The cross was not the defeat that it appeared, but was part of God’s plan of victory over sin, death, and the devil. The plan revealed from the very beginning. The plan that He had been speaking of and accomplishing all through the Old Testament. The plan and victory sealed and accomplished in His resurrection that very morning.

They listened. Their hearts were burning within them. But they didn’t quite get it. They were thick-headed and slow-hearted, just like we often are. Because when you’re on that road, when you’re in the thick of the struggle, it’s easy to hear the words, but hard to believe. Because things look and feel and seem so bad. So contrary to what we’re hearing and what we expect.

Our problem is not so much that God doesn’t give us what we hope for as it is that we don’t know the right thing for which to hope. (You may want to read that sentence again.)

Hope is not what you expect. Hope is not what you would ever dream. It is a wild, improbable tale with a pinch-me-I’m-dreaming ending. It is Jesus unpacking the Word of God for you, like He did for those disciples, so your heart may burn within you, warming you up, melting your cold heart, putting you on fire for the Lord.

You find this improbable, unbelievable hope when you dig through Scripture and find: Abraham adjusting his bifocals so he can see not his grandson, but his son; Moses standing in the Promised Land, not with Aaron or Miriam at his side, but with Elijah and the transfigured Christ; Zechariah left speechless at the sight of his wife, Elizabeth, gray-haired and pregnant.

You find this hope against all hope in little David rocking the giant Goliath to sleep; Samson bringing the house down on the Philistines; Noah calmly playing cards while standing on the deck.

Hope is the two Emmaus-bound pilgrims reaching out to take a piece of bread only to see candlelight shining through the holes in the stranger’s hands.

“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.” And even though He vanished, they were not sad. For they now knew He was not gone. Their faith was no longer in glory, but in the cross. They had found His promises in His Word. So they rushed to Jerusalem. No longer confused, but certain. No longer sad, but joyful. No longer struggling, but on the firm foundation. No longer hopeless, but burning with hope.

And we are, too. For the Good Shepherd has come and found each of us lost and wandering sheep, and has invited us here, to His house, a refuge for weary pilgrims. And He stays with us. He is here, opening the Scriptures, so we may hear and believe. Inviting us to His altar where He is both the priest and the sacrifice. Inviting us to stay and eat at His Table, where He is both host and food.

So we come to this place weary and we leave refreshed. We come scared and depressed and we leave with our hearts burning with faith. We come without hope, questioning if God really cares and we leave with the hope and assurance that our God is unfettered by time and space, so He comes to sit, dine, teach and care for us. 

As it was at Emmaus, so it is for us here at Epiphany. Scripture and Supper. Teaching and Table fellowship. Word and Sacrament. The Divine Service of our Savior for us poor, sinful, confused, struggling, doubting, fearful, anxious, hopeless disciples every Sunday. Every Sunday, a little Easter, as we travel this life. As we travel to our homes, to our jobs, to our friends and neighbors. Traveling, but never alone. Traveling, but always by faith. Traveling the road of hope.

The road to Emmaus is a fascinating story. It’s a road of hope. It’s a good enough story that even Lions fans can have hope. Amen.

3^rd Sunday of Easter at Epiphany on May 8, 2011