Seeing the Risen Christ

The Yorktown United Methodist Church
Pastor Roy Grubbs

            April 6, 2008                                                                       1 John 3: 1-3
   3rd Sunday of Easter                                                                       Luke 24: 13-35

It’s the Easter Season!  Time to Rejoice!  Christ is Risen!  Praise the Lord, Hallelujah!  You know, celebrations can be wonderful times for people to come together as one community – family, friends, and strangers – to share in fellowship on special occasions, creating lasting memories and deepening relationships with one another.  It is a time to reconnect, a time to be joyful, a time to thank God for the wonderful blessings we have received, and for new life through Christ’s resurrection.  And for many, this time is a triumphant one – full of new opportunities and new hope.  

However, it was not like that for the two disciples that Easter Day.  Making the seven-mile journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus was long and difficult.  As they walked, they contemplated what had taken place throughout the week.  This was not supposed to happen!  How could Jesus, the Savior, the Messiah, have been crucified?  For these travelers, they left Jerusalem feeling dejected and confused.  They were sad; I imagine they also felt somewhat angry and abandoned.  They had heard the news earlier from the women and other disciples that the body of Jesus was now missing.  Verse 24 states that when they had gone to the tomb, they did not see Jesus. 

Now folks, I don’t know about you, but when I first read this story, I thought these people were crazy.   How many times did Jesus tell his followers before, during his life, that this would be exactly how it was going to happen?  In fact, prior to this passage, in verses 6 and 7, the “two men in dazzling clothes told the women at the tomb “Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”  Then they remembered.  Jesus had also shared these words with the disciples during his life.  Wouldn’t the fact that Jesus’ body was not there on the third day, trigger the travelers to connect the dots that Jesus had risen and that this was a time for celebration?  In verse 21, they tell Jesus “they had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel .”  These two travelers had lost all hope.  Caught up in their own grief and despair over the death and abandonment of Jesus, they could not see the joy in the moment.  In their sadness, they were kept from recognizing Jesus in their midst.

We also know that life isn’t always easy.  There are times when we too cannot “see,” when we lose our way, when all hope seems to be lost.  When traumatic events occur, we tend to feel alone, isolated.  After my first year of seminary, I did a summer internship as a Chaplain at Bridgeport Hospital .  As we toured the units and made decisions on where we wanted to be placed, I explained that I would go anywhere except Oncology and the Cardiac Unit.  I had lost too many family members to cancer and heart attacks that I did not think I could handle it.  But those were exactly the units I was assigned to.  On my very first on-call night, I was paged to Intensive Care.  A family needed spiritual guidance making a decision on whether or not to keep the father on life support. 

Oh, yeah, as if I was qualified to help with this.  I had just lived through some horrendous experiences with my grandparents’ deaths, where some fought tooth and nail over what should happen and what was best.  But now I needed to be attentive to this family.  I just listened.  There were many opinions, nasty arguments, and a lot of tears.  As it turns out, there were many issues that split this family apart many years back.  Some had not communicated in over a decade.  And as the father lie in the bed, the stress had become too great.  No one in the room could clearly understand the issues at hand.  There was too much “baggage.”  Much of the argument centered around “who did Dad trust the most, and why.”  It came down to stepping all over each other to become the one who Dad loved most.  They each needed to become the decision-maker.  They could not see beyond their own grief and anger.   They only found ways to hurt one another.  They felt alone.  They were in a dense “fog.”

It is like this for many of us, for whom Easter is not a time of celebration.  There are those who are struggling this season – right here in our community.  Look around you – there are many in depression, in anger, suffering, feeling separated, feeling guilty, feeling abandoned due to job losses, cancer, sickness, disease, death, and so many other problems.  For these people, Easter has not yet arrived.  The meaning of the Resurrection is lost, distant.  It is a time of sorrow and despair, a time of stress and confusion, even a time of anger and resentment at God.  They cannot see Christ; they do not know the way; their hearts are heavy.

On the Road to Emmaus, when the disciples could not see Jesus, their hearts were heavy.  They were in a dense fog too.  What was it the disciples were looking for in a Risen Christ?  Perhaps they were expecting a warrior to overthrow the Roman Government.  They needed more proof then what they had seen.  Perhaps they felt ashamed for abandoning Jesus when he was on the cross.  And now, they felt abandoned themselves.  Their encounter with the Risen Christ brings them new life.  Jesus appears to them on their road of sadness, their road of grief, and their road of loneliness, coming as a radiant light, brightening their world, and causing their hearts to burn within.  Jesus illuminates the scriptures to them, letting them remember who he is and what needed to take place, providing a ray of hope in the darkest places of their hearts.  On that Road to Emmaus, the travelers encounter the deepest love of God, lifting them to new life, healing their souls, loving them into the resurrection.  As the night wears on, the disciples beg Jesus to stay; they do not want to be abandoned again.  Even though their eyes still cannot fully recognize who is speaking to them, their hearts know better.  Jesus stays, sharing a meal with them.  As he takes, blesses, breaks, and gives the bread, their eyes are opened and they finally see him.  In community, Jesus became known.  Where these two were gathered, Jesus was in their midst.  In the breaking of the Bread, the One Body of Christ, Jesus was known to them.  In their darkest and saddest time, Jesus came to the disciples as the Light of the World, allowing them to fully see the Risen Christ. 

On that first on-call night at Bridgeport Hospital , the family turned to me; they wanted me to help decide what to do.  All I could think to do was pray.  We prayed for the father, we prayed for Jesus to be present in the conversation, we prayed for guidance, and we prayed that no matter what the decision, that Jesus would help us through it.  When the prayer was done, there was silence for about 2 minutes.  Then discussion began.  Slowly, each child began to listen to one another.  They began to at least understand the other’s viewpoint.  They began to recount when things had gone wrong between them over the years.  The healing process had begun.  Christ was present in that place.

Once they invited Christ to be in the conversation, it was amazing to witness the change in the tone and direction of the conversation.  It was wonderful to see some of them hug one another and for forgiveness to take place.  After that, it took some time, but a decision was reached; the family had decided to let the father go, abiding by his wishes according to the mother.  I was blessed to have the opportunity to stay with the family as they let the father go.  One by one they said goodbye.  It was very moving.  I held hands with the family as we watched the monitors overhead.  Slowly, the oxygen intake lessened; we watched the heart rate drop, and listened to the beeping slow down.  Finally, he passed on. 

Although the father died that day, something else was reborn – the family ties that were broken were bound once again.  Over the course of the summer, I was blessed to be part of this process many times.  Some families were tight all the way through; some were broken and things only got worse.  One thing I noticed, the families that would allow me to pray with them, asking Christ to be present through the process, fought less.  Sure there was heartache and mourning, but there seemed to be a sense of peace.  They leaned on one another more.  Christ was indeed present on these long and painful roads.  Our road may not be easy, but Christ is there to guide us, to listen to us, to cry with us, and even carry us – if only we will ask.

  
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