“Christ
on the Road”
Luke
24:13-32
First
Presbyterian Church
Rev.
Donald E. Ray
April
11, 2010
I must admit a twinge of envy when I hear someone
telling of how God speaks to her or him, giving direction through all the
difficulties and important decisions. It
must be nice to be sure of the way and that the road will be smooth before even
taking that first step. I also admit
a bit of suspicion whether that kind of clear direction from God really happens.
But that may be just my skeptical
nature.
The Emmaus road is my favorite part of the Easter
story. Luke, writing directions for
living the faith in the resurrection, naturally places Christ on the road with
believers. It’s where the glorious
celebration of Easter morning; the rejoicing in victory over death and evil; the
confidence that because Christ is alive, we have life eternal; it’s where all
that hits the road and we, echoing Tom’s message Easter Sunday, “practice
resurrection.”
I resonate with Cleopas and his friend because
it’s after times of struggle, uncertainty, disappointment and hurt that
reflection yields the sense of God’s presence stirring love and comfort and
peace and charity. The association
of “God moments” in our life with prosperity, happiness and affirmation of
our goodness doesn’t necessarily hold true. Those
times are too often “ego moments” when we are so caught up in ourselves that
we ride our own momentum. For me,
and I suspect for many of us, it is the times of tragedy, suffering,
disillusionment, when we cry out
like the Psalmist, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why
are you so far from helping me . . .?” (Psalm 22:1) that in retrospect I
recognize having walked in the faith that is a gift of God.
Cleopas and his unnamed friend were two men walking
from
Jesus was not that God-powered conquering hero. Luke
makes it clear Holy Week is not about God sacrificing God’s own son paying
God’s own price for human sin to redeem humanity and because Jesus was raised
from the dead, so shall we be to that glorious heaven of golden streets and
white robed angels. Resurrection is
about the Christ in Jesus when he grew up in Nazareth, walked the roads of
Galilee, talked about the kingdom of God as an everyday reality, touched lives
with healing and comfort and forgiving, tried without success to restore the
Temple to a house of prayer, was so threatening to the powers that be they
executed him, that Christ still walked the road to Emmaus talking with two
despairing men about what the Spirit of God had been and was doing in life. Resurrection
is about that Christ still walking with us in whatever is our journey of life.
How much of our life do we live minimally if at all
aware of the Christ, to use that metaphor, walking with us. It
is usually at the times we are struggling, in despair that we are most inclined
to call out, “God, help me.” Then
we may be aware of a helping, supporting presence, especially if we are rescued
from our distress. When all is well,
we are happy and satisfied. It may
be only a habit of worship and prayer that provides any link with God at all. I
have long wished that I could be as intentional about God in my life at the good
times as I am when at the end of my own resources.
How do we cultivate that recognition of God’s
Spirit ever present. The man who
joined Cleopas and his friend on the Emmaus road answered their distress with
the story of God, ever loving and leading through Moses and the prophets,
throughout their history sharing with the people in their suffering, patient
through their unfaithfulness. Jesus
was one more in that line of those through whom God touched creation.
Granting that for other traditions it may be
Mohammed or Brahman, for us it is learning familiarity with the faith stories of
Moses and Isaiah and Hosea, the Psalmist, Jesus, Paul, Peter, John that gives us
the frame of reference for recognizing God’s Spirit. Steeping
ourselves in the faith walk of others helps us find the way in our own walk.
When my first born son died after three days of
struggle, I was pastor of the
Shortly after coming to
The next year, vacation plans took us out of town
that week. I was spared, I thought. At
a restaurant, the hostess was asking parties in line how many for breakfast. When
the father ahead of us said “five” I realized had Philip not died -- on that
date -- there would have been five of us.
Through the next year, I became aware that the
walk, darkened with sadness, frustrating questions, anger, and pain was not one
I walked alone. There was a presence
with me that brought comfort, healing, light for the way. The
following August, resigned to not being able to escape the grieving, I gave no
thought to not working on the date of my son’s death. When
I was paged that morning, something in me knew before answering, the nature of
the call. It was to provide care for
a father whose son was being delivered still born. I
was able to be with him for support as no one had done for me all those years
before. In the little really we know
of God, could it be any different than that the Christ who is love in the midst
of suffering, failings, darkness would walk with us in our pain and despair.
Karen asked me yesterday what today’s sermon was
about. We were standing in our
living room and when I said it was about the Emmaus road, she pointed to the
picture I showed the children earlier and said, “You mean that story.” Karen
had also asked me how the sermon was coming and I had said it was aging. That’s
my euphemism for it’s done but I’m not really comfortable with it.
How many times have I looked at that painting on
our living room wall and reflected on the story it portrays. Though
I may have looked at in the past week, I had not seen it, until that moment. Then
I did not just see it, I was walking that wooded path, aware again of what Tom
has called, our “unseen partner.”
I have as much discomfort as anyone with those who
splatter every conversation with Bible quotes, translate every circumstance into
a religious event. But to trust that
whatever the circumstances of life, the Christ is on the road with us is what
resurrection is about.
Perhaps Cleopas and his friend had been in
Amen.
Copyright
© 2010 First Presbyterian Church