4 April 1999
Dr. Alan J. Meenan
Easter
The Shattering of Despair
Luke 24:13-28, 28-35
Young Jonathan had been promised a new puppy for his tenth birthday. But when he went to the pet store, he had great difficulty choosing one out of the many dozens of little dogs there. Finally, he decided on one nondescript shaggy pup gleefully wagging its tail. "That's the one I want!" he said to his father as he pointed excitedly at the young pup. The boy explained, "I want the one that has the happy ending."1
While watching the film The Greatest Story Ever Told on television with her family, a young girl sat mesmerized by the story and deeply moved as she watched Christ taken to Calvary and hung on the cross. Tears began to trickle down her little cheeks. She was absolutely silent as she watched Christ taken off the cross and laid in a tomb. But suddenly she began to smile. She turned to the rest of the family and veritably shouted, "Now comes the good part!"2
That's why we're here today, because of a happy ending and a good part. When Cleopas made the journey home to Emmaus two thousand years ago, he didn't know the happy ending. He didn't know the good part. It was all about to explode upon him.
He had gone up to Jerusalem just a few days earlier with eager expectation and excitement. It was during the zenith of Jesus' ministry. Christ had attracted the acclaim of the popular masses. The stage was set in the Holy City for the great finale of Christ's ministry. "Surely he would proclaim Himself King of the Jews," Cleopas thought. He was joined by a friend and, with great enthusiasm, they marched the seven miles to the city with a gleam in their eyes and a lilt in their steps. It seemed as an evening stroll. The seven miles went by very fast.
Ah, but with what sadness he returned to Emmaus. Cleopas had the feeling that Jesus had more than met His match. His end had not been His proclamation as King of the Jews. Instead, it had been one of ignominy and defeat on a Roman gibbet. True, it declared, "This is the King of the Jews," but that wasn't quite the way Cleopas had imagined it would happen. All the hopes of new tomorrows; of justice, peace and love flickered like a candle in the breeze and was snuffed. Cleopas and his companion gazed for one last time at the now empty cross-silhouetted against the eastern sky. It was here that their lovely, foolish dream had ended a few days before. The reality was sinking in. It was time to put behind them all those wistful fantasies of a Savior of the world and a Lord of history. How could they ever have been so naive to ever believe it in the first place? It was time to go home and face reality. They turned their backs on the mocking symbol of death. They set out on the gloomy trek back to Emmaus.
As I read the story of Cleopas and his friend walking back solemnly to their hometown, I have wondered if there have been times in my own life when I have walked alongside them. Like them, I have dreamed dreams that have been not realized, and with the heaviness of heart, I have recognized that sometimes life hasn't turned out the way I would have maybe wanted it. As I walk with Cleopas, I recognize a great host of all humanity walking the road to Emmaus with us. Perhaps you find yourself walking along that road as well. The dreams of your youth have drifted away. They have been replaced by the grim reality of everyday adult existence. There are ambitions that have gone unrealized in our lives. We carry the heartache of watching loved ones suffer and die. There have been tearful good- byes and debilitating diseases, threatening health, and hopes and dreams that have come crashing around our feet. We stand once more in memory's lane by a hospital bed or a newly dug grave. Perhaps we stand by a house that used to be called home, a place of fond farewells and the disappointment of once might been but now will never be. Again we seek a word of comfort and perhaps even explanation why things are the way they are today. We long at times for a change of circumstances to alleviate the pain of life. Life isn't a beach, is it? Opportunities often seem to be gone forever. The older we get the more we realize that life holds for all of us a myriad of disappointments.
Cleopas and his friend knew disappointment that day long ago when they left Golgotha, turned toward home, and walked the seven-mile journey over the Judean hills to the little village of Emmaus. It's difficult enough to experience the disappointments that we associate with daily living, but it is a dreadful, heart-breaking hour when Jesus disappoints us. That was Cleopas' dilemma. He had hoped in Jesus. He had hoped that this would be the One who would redeem Israel. The disillusionment was fierce and grim. If Christ can't be relied upon, then where can anyone turn? If His teachings are illusory, if His power is a myth, if His kingdom is the insubstantial pageant of a dream, then you and I are walking the road to Emmaus once more, are we not? The mass of humanity is walking right behind Cleopas and his friend. I see myself there. We are all on the way to Emmaus.
If you don't remember anything else remember this: the two travelers were joined by a third. A stranger came along side. He recognized something was wrong. "Why is it that you are so downcast," he asked. "Why is it that you're so sad?" They were absolutely amazed. "Haven't you heard?" they said to the stranger. "Surely you must know. Has no one told you of Calvary and what happened in the past few days there?" Think of it for a moment. What a question to ask the Christ of Calvary! What a question it was to ask the Christ of the cross! But Dr. Luke tells us in his gospel that they were blinded and didn't recognize Him. I wonder if that is not often true for you and me as well.
The beauty of the story is this: Jesus Christ walked beside them on the road to Emmaus. At the moment when they most keenly, most intensely felt the hurt, despair, loneliness, discouragement, and disappointment, Jesus graciously came to walk the difficult road with them.
As a youngster I camped in the lowlands of Scotland with my youth group. Our leader of ten sang the song:
Oh no it's not an easy road,
But Jesus comes beside you to lighten the journey
And help you with your heavy load.
As a teenager what did I know of heavy loads? Yet this song impressed itself upon my heart that in many subsequent days, I rehearsed it over and over when the road became difficult and harsh and even treacherous. Here is the good news that I want to communicate to you this morning. It's this: Jesus came to meet us on the difficult road of life.
Brother Lawrence said, "You need not even cry too loud, for He is nearer than you think." The tragedy is that sometimes we fail to recognize Him. That was true for Cleopas and his friend. They didn't recognize who it was that walked the road beside them. Yet even though they didn't recognize it, something was beginning to happen to them -- something strange and supernatural -- something incredible of which they testified afterwards. They recalled, "Did not our hearts burn us within us while he talked with us on the way while he opened to us the Scriptures? It was the rekindling of faith, like the warm rays of the summer sun penetrating the cold shadows of the grave.
Let us never disparage the burning heart. Wesley described his own conversion thus: "In London, while I listened to some Moravians tell the story of Jesus, I felt my heart strangely warm." Wesley was not the only one. It was also said of Josephine Butler, the great social pioneers of the last century, by Frederick Myers who wrote "She introduced me to Christianity as by an inner door. Not to its incumbent, but to its heart of flame." Understand that this is not mere emotionalism of which I speak, it is emotion grounded on the stalwart doctrines of the faith. It recognizes that you and I as disciples of Jesus Christ need to recapture something of the joy of Jesus in the way we live our lives. We need the contentment of being in His presence, of knowing His indwelling, of resting in His will.
The two wayfarers reached their journey's end. The third person, their companion, bade them goodnight. The chapter moves towards its conclusion. Dr. Luke records that He had cheered their gloom. So they pleaded with Him; urging Him strongly to stay the night with them. That's a lovely thing to happen. When someone comes into your life when you're hurting, or feeling a sense of despair. It's a lovely thing to happen. Night was falling, Emmaus was reached and Cleopas and his friend lingered with their companion. The stranger was intending to continue onward. They asked him, "Please stay with us for the night is far spent. You have been great company. We have enjoyed the encouragement that you have given us. Please stay." It's a lovely thing to happen. "Abide with me, Lord. The night is growing dark and dreary. I have lost heart in the struggle. Oh, abide with me." And He did. The stranger joined them and, as He sat at the table, there was a flash of recognition that pierced the blindness of their mind. I wonder what it was, don't you? I wonder if it was the way that He broke the bread. I wonder if it was the prayer that He uttered after He broke it. Did they notice the scars in His hand? Whatever it was, they knew. In a moment, He vanished out of their sight to remain in their hearts forever. The Emmaus road experience would never be forgotten. For centuries the story would be told over and over. It was a journey that once began in loneliness, depression and despair and ended with faith rekindled and sight restored and spirit revitalized.
This is the incomparable message of Easter. Jesus is alive to walk the road of difficulty with you. It's a message to the perplexed and to the sad. It's a message to the battered and the besieged, to the disillusioned and bewildered, to the lonely and to the despairing. This is the message: God in Christ can give you new life. As you walk your road of difficulty, and journey tearfully on, Jesus Christ can come and walk that road with you, if you'll let Him. He will lift the anxiety and shattered dreams. He can set your heart on flame for God. He can put a new song in your heart because it's the same Jesus that will walk Hollywood Boulevard with you and me who walked the road to Emmaus long ago with Cleopas. He has not changed. He loves you still. Just as He was eager to meet with those two disciples on the road to Emmaus, He is eager to meet with you. He longs to take away the old dross, to cleanse you with a baptism of His blessed Spirit, and rekindle (or perhaps ignite) the sacred flame on the altar of your heart and plant Easter in your soul forever.
This is the challenge of Easter. How will you respond? Will you miss the opportunity provided by this stranger who is walking beside you right now? Will you recognize Him as the Christ of the cross? He really is the Savior of the world. He really is the King of the Jews. He is the King of the whole world. How will you respond to Him?
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