The Road to Emmaus

Daring to Believe after Quitting Hope

But the eyes of them were held in order not to recognize him….
And they were standing with a sad look....
“But we were hoping he is the one…”
-Luke 24 NRSV Greek/English Interlinear New Testament

I was 16 when the young adults group leader asked me to lead the Bible study for one of our meetings. I wasn’t quite in college yet (though I started young), but somehow I found myself an honorary member, a peer to college students and young (barely) professionals. And Steve asked me to “teach” Luke 24, the story of the two disciples walking on the road to a village called Emmaus when—after the crucifixion, after the resurrection they didn’t think had happened—they were suddenly accompanied on the road by a man they didn’t recognize.

“What are you talking about?” the man (Jesus) wanted to know. Cleopas then asked him (in essence) if he’d been living under a rock for the last few days, because anyone coming from Jerusalem should have heard about Jesus who was powerful in word and deed and had been handed over by the chief priests and put to death by the Roman rulers. With tragically sad voices, the disciples made it clear to Jesus-in-disguise that they had been hoping that Jesus was the one they could pin their hopes on. The narrative implies this pair believed the time for hope had passed them by. They were on their way (home?) from a confusing, empty grave and the bewildering testimony of women who said they heard from an angel that Jesus lives.

Jesus’ response likely surprised them. “Oh foolish ones,” he said, “and slow in heart to believe in all which spoke the prophets.” If you’ve read the story, you know that Jesus preaches a sermon to them as they walk to the village—reminding them of all the scriptures concerning the Christ who would suffer before entering his glory.

It’s only when the trio have stopped off at the village for the night that the disciples recognize Jesus in a split-second as he breaks bread at the table—and then he vanishes before their eyes. Then, they name what had been happening during their entire exchange with Jesus: that their hearts had been “burning” within them as Jesus spoke to them on the road.

I don’t know how I fumbled through leading my older friends through this passage. I’m sure I was terribly awkward. What I do remember is the profundity of the thought, in my own quiet study ahead of time, that Jesus was with the disciples even when they couldn’t see it. And that Jesus was with me, too, when I couldn’t see him either.

This past Holy Week and Easter, the Spirit drew me back to this story because the thoughts of my heart of late have echoed the posture of Cleopas and his friend. I’ve “stood with a sad look” at something. And I “was hoping” for a situation to present differently. This can become a way of walking through life, if I (we) are not careful. Crestfallen, dismayed, orphan-hearted, and resigned to things being exactly what they appear to be. Our eyes “held from” recognizing Jesus at work in ways beyond our ability to predict.

As I read the story again, my heart burns and I think the Spirit chastises me in a kindly way. Oh foolish one, slow in heart to believe…I dare you to believe.

I am dared by the Spirit to trust that the Lord is as close to me now as his physical body was to the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Because the Lord walks with me, I am dared to bundle up all my doubts and fears and cast them, with an Olympian’s arm, far from me and enter the coming day a blind woman with confidence in the One who sees.

Christ is Risen.

He is Risen Indeed.