Luke 24:13-35
When he was at table with them, he took bread, blessed it and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. . .
Have you ever had an experience where you were doing something run-of-the-mill – something ordinary, only to find it suddenly infused with the grace of God? Have you ever had an experience like that? Have you ever had a moment of awakening, right in the middle of something very routine? Have you ever had your eyes opened – an experience where everything seems to open up, right when you weren’t expecting it?
These disciples, on a simple road to Emmaus, in a simple meal, experienced something just like that, something completely life-altering. They were transformed right in the middle of something very ordinary. They experienced something unforgettable. They would never be the same.
And as they started along that road, they were probably thinking something just like that: They would never be the same. The times weren’t ordinary or simple at all, and they had just been through utter hell. These two disciples were grieving. They were confused. Surely they knew that they might be in danger. The one they followed was unmercifully killed just days ago, slaughtered by the few who held the most power. And they were sure to feel powerless because they couldn’t know if they or their fellow-disciples would be next. These times were not ordinary or simple at all. But what could they do? Perhaps they needed to do familiar things – things that were ordinary and simple – just to keep going. What else can you do in utter hell but just keep going one foot in front of the other? Simple things: Walk down a road. Stay the night. Eat a meal.
And an unrecognized stranger walks right into it – right into their conversation, right into their grief and their confusion. Is he the only one in Jerusalem who doesn’t know the utter hell of this week? They were honest with him. They told him what was causing them the most heartbreak. Their hopes were truly crushed. They told this unrecognized stranger how they felt: “But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” They had placed their trust, their dreams, and their lives in this Jesus of Nazareth. And what now? Had it been for nothing – nothing but heartbreak? Had it only led to fear – had it only led to danger for themselves and the people they loved? What now?
And the disciples also told this stranger what was causing them the most confusion. They said, “Some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” Of course this was confusing, and what were they supposed to think about what just happened hours ago? Do they dare hope again? Can they risk it? Can they risk believing – trusting again – that Jesus is somehow alive?
It’s interesting how transformation can begin even in the midst of grief and confusion. Right in the truth of their emotions, Jesus makes himself very present. “Haven’t you understood what the prophets have declared?” He powerfully turns to the scriptures. Beginning with Moses, he moves through the prophets, interprets the scriptures, giving hope to these disciples. Their hope, trust, and service were not in vain. Jesus had redeemed them and would continue to redeem. He had suffered, but he would enter his glory and live for them. He would be alive always – alive in them and alive beyond them – alive beyond anything they could wrap their minds around. And here he was alive standing right in front of them, right in the middle of a scriptural conversation. They didn’t grasp the fullness of that truth, but they were affected. As they would say later, “Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us? A simple, ordinary road. A transformative experience.
Who was this unrecognized stranger? Who was this one who could dramatically open their ears and their minds with the ancient words of scripture? Who was this one who could suddenly open their hopeless hearts? In an ordinary moment, what had just happened?
They didn’t know who he was, but they were eager to learn more about this stranger and to learn more from this stranger. The day was ending and it was almost evening. “Stay with us.” And he went in to dwell with them.
Hospitality. That’s an ordinary custom - a kind one, but an ordinary invitation. But they were somehow able to sense that this stranger was sharing hope that was far from ordinary. They needed him to dwell with them in their grief and confusion.
And in an ordinary place of lodging, everything was changed. They would never be the same. They sat down for an ordinary meal, and it became a holy moment. It was suddenly infused with the grace of God. When this stranger took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them, their eyes were opened and they recognized him.
They recognized him. They recognized him for who he was. This was Jesus made alive, right in the breaking of bread. They recognized him in and through the relationship they had experienced with him. He had poured out love toward them in this way many times before. When Jesus blessed, broke, and gave bread, he pledged to give himself. In receiving this bread, they received his love, his identity, his call, and the revelation that they could put their hope and trust in him.
They were instantly transformed. Even though they had journeyed from Jerusalem to Emmaus, they immediately got up and returned to Jerusalem that same hour. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ran. They would never be the same. They couldn’t keep this revelation to themselves. They couldn’t keep this transformation to themselves. After an encounter with the risen Christ, they were sent forth to share it with others. The breaking of bread. An ordinary moment was transformative beyond imagination.
Have you ever had an experience where you were doing something run-of-the-mill – something ordinary, only to find it suddenly infused with the grace of God? Have you ever had an experience like that? Have you ever had a moment of awakening, right in the middle of something very routine? Have you ever had your eyes opened – an experience where everything seems to open up, right when you weren’t expecting it?
The truth is, we all experience run-of-the mill events. We live in the ordinary. And we’re sometimes unable to see the grace of God right in front of us. We’re sometimes unable to see Jesus Christ right in front of us. And even though we believe every moment is infused with the grace of God, sometimes we don’t really pay attention. Sometimes we stop expecting the love of God and call of God to grab us.
Our minds often vacillate between the past and the future. We get stuck mulling over our past. We get stuck planning and over-planning our future. There’s nothing wrong with being reflective about the past and the future, but sometimes we neglect the present moment right in front of us. We don’t pay attention to it. In fact, we often remain in a state of constant partial attention. I wonder what we miss along the way.
Judy Skaggs, a ministry colleague of mine, once told a great story in a sermon that’s worth repeating. Along with some other pastors, she went to Albuquerque with about a thousand people for a ministry conference. Brian McLaren, one of the speakers, asked all the people to participate in an exercise. He split the group in half, and had them look at a television. “On this side, I want you to watch two people in white shirts who are going to pass a ball back and forth to each other. And on this side, I want you to watch two people in black shirts pass a ball back and forth to each other. I want each side to try to count how many times the ball is passed back and forth. Okay, ready? Go.” The ball was passed back and forth, back and forth. They all concentrated trying to count. “Okay, stop. How many times was the ball passed back and forth over here?” People began to shout out numbers. “Okay, how about over here?” Again, more numbers. “Okay. How many of you saw the gorilla?”
What?!?
Sure enough, while they were focusing on the balls being passed back and forth, a man in a gorilla suit had walked on screen in plain sight. But almost every single person had missed it! How on earth do you miss a man in a big gorilla suit?
They had narrowed their focus. Granted, they had been asked to do it, and this was part of the exercise. But they had missed the most obvious thing, right when it was present with them! And we do this kind of thing all the time.
And so what do we hope to see when we come to worship? Are we fully present in worship when God is so graciously present with us? Will our eyes be opened to see Jesus Christ with us, among us, in us, beyond us? I recently learned the sign for hope in American Sign Language. The sign for ‘hope’ is a combination of ‘think’ and ‘expect.’ Think. Expect: Hope. Do we enter this place with our minds ready to think through the scriptures? Do we enter this place, ready to expect Christ’s presence with us when we break the bread? Do we enter this place, daring to put our hope in him? Are we ready to be transformed right in the midst of the ordinary – right when we’re not expecting it – so that we may be sent out from here, to spread transformation in places where other people are not expecting it?
I think this process is part of what it means to be a Christian, a follower of Christ. I think this process teaches us to pay attention because God is present with us everywhere. God is loving us, forming us, fashioning us at every turn. And the good news is this: Even when we have narrowed our focus too much, even when we do not recognize Christ among us, even when we stop paying attention, our unawareness is not powerful enough to overcome God’s pledge to be with us – to show up right when we are not expecting anything extraordinary at all.
On Sunday mornings, we come together to do two things. We experience the scriptures read and proclaimed, and we receive bread, lovingly broken for us. Because we do these things often, they might start to become routine if we stop paying attention. But it in these scriptures and in this holy meal, Christ chooses to be made known to us. He is recognizable. He is alive to us, and we are made alive. We’re fashioned to be his witnesses in this world – recreated to be Christ’s own body - and we’re sent forth from here renewed and celebrating. A missionary and writer named D.T. Niles put it this way: The Christian life “is just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.” That’s it, isn’t it? We’re beggars encountering other beggars, sharing holy bread. Jesus Christ, the Bread of Life, has been revealed to us and will continue to be revealed to us, perhaps in the strangers we should be fortunate to meet.
And as you go forth to serve, remember that you are Christ’s disciples. In the holy hearing of scripture and in the holy meal we share so often, may we learn to expect Christ, who is the Word and the very Bread of Life, be revealed to us again. Amen.
Renée Roederer
Sure enough, while they were focusing on the balls being passed back and forth, a man in a gorilla suit had walked on screen in plain sight. But almost every single person had missed it! How on earth do you miss a man in a big gorilla suit?
They had narrowed their focus. Granted, they had been asked to do it, and this was part of the exercise. But they had missed the most obvious thing, right when it was present with them! And we do this kind of thing all the time.
And so what do we hope to see when we come to worship? Are we fully present in worship when God is so graciously present with us? Will our eyes be opened to see Jesus Christ with us, among us, in us, beyond us? I recently learned the sign for hope in American Sign Language. The sign for ‘hope’ is a combination of ‘think’ and ‘expect.’ Think. Expect: Hope. Do we enter this place with our minds ready to think through the scriptures? Do we enter this place, ready to expect Christ’s presence with us when we break the bread? Do we enter this place, daring to put our hope in him? Are we ready to be transformed right in the midst of the ordinary – right when we’re not expecting it – so that we may be sent out from here, to spread transformation in places where other people are not expecting it?
I think this process is part of what it means to be a Christian, a follower of Christ. I think this process teaches us to pay attention because God is present with us everywhere. God is loving us, forming us, fashioning us at every turn. And the good news is this: Even when we have narrowed our focus too much, even when we do not recognize Christ among us, even when we stop paying attention, our unawareness is not powerful enough to overcome God’s pledge to be with us – to show up right when we are not expecting anything extraordinary at all.
On Sunday mornings, we come together to do two things. We experience the scriptures read and proclaimed, and we receive bread, lovingly broken for us. Because we do these things often, they might start to become routine if we stop paying attention. But it in these scriptures and in this holy meal, Christ chooses to be made known to us. He is recognizable. He is alive to us, and we are made alive. We’re fashioned to be his witnesses in this world – recreated to be Christ’s own body - and we’re sent forth from here renewed and celebrating. A missionary and writer named D.T. Niles put it this way: The Christian life “is just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.” That’s it, isn’t it? We’re beggars encountering other beggars, sharing holy bread. Jesus Christ, the Bread of Life, has been revealed to us and will continue to be revealed to us, perhaps in the strangers we should be fortunate to meet.
And as you go forth to serve, remember that you are Christ’s disciples. In the holy hearing of scripture and in the holy meal we share so often, may we learn to expect Christ, who is the Word and the very Bread of Life, be revealed to us again. Amen.
Renée Roederer
Director of Young Adult Ministries
PPC L.I.F.T.
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