Sermon Tone Analysis

Over the past few weeks, as we’ve settled into life in Dundee, I’ve come to realize that I’ve got some bad American habits that I need to get rid of.

Eating habits…shopping habits…little things that as I look at them they make me realize that Americans can be somewhat lazy.

Like the fact that we drive everywhere.

For everything.

Even ridiculously short distances.

Nobody in America walks.

And with petrol prices being what they are, I am rediscovering the joy and the savings of doing a bit more walking.

Last year a study was released that showed Americans walk less than just about every other country on the planet.

At the top of the pack for western cultures were countries like Switzerland and Australia, where people average over 9600 steps per day.

The Japanese clocked in at just over 7100 steps a day.

But those of us in the US struggle to make it past an average 5000 steps a day.

And as I see it, it's not just an exercise thing or a saving money thing.

The fact that we don't like to walk also means we miss out on social opportunities.

It's hard to form a community and develop relationships with our neighbors from inside our cars.

I wonder what opportunities we Americans could find if we just committed to a walk now and then.

What encounters could come out of that?

Our gospel reading for today contains a powerful encounter that comes as a result of a walk.

It's a story that immediately follows Luke's account of the resurrection in verses 1-12, telling of the disciples disbelief and confusion as the women return with a story of an empty tomb and a risen rabbi.

We pick it up in verse 13 of chapter 24, which begins with the words, "Now that same day."

Meaning...it's still the day of the Resurrection.

It’s still Easter.

And Luke, as he often does, tells the story with beautiful and rich detail and meaning.

Here you have two of Jesus' followers, one named Cleopas, another unnamed.

Some scholars speculate it was Cleopas' wife.

They're making their way to a village called Emmaus, and they're talking about everything that has happened over the past couple of days, from Jesus' arrest to his trial to his death, and now to this unbelievable report that his grave is now empty.

And suddenly a man joins them, it's Jesus, but they don't know that.

Luke records that they were kept from recognizing him.

Some think they're blinded by their despair, but the Greek verb used here calls to mind the image of being restrained, being held back, which seems to indicate that it's God himself who is keeping them from recognizing Jesus.

It seems to me that God has a purpose, something he wants to show them before they can truly encounter Jesus as the risen Christ.

It's a teaching moment.

And so Jesus asks them, "What are you talking about as you walk?"

And Luke says they stood still, their faces downcast.

It's a simple description, but a powerful one.

They are so shocked by the question that they are stopped dead in their tracks.

It seems so impossible that anyone could have been in Jerusalem and not known what has just taken place.

And now, they realize, they're going to have to relate the details to this seeming stranger.

If you've ever lost a loved one, you know that feeling.

When someone asks, "What's going on?"

And you realize you have to tell the story again.

And I can picture Cleopas taking a deep breath and steadying himself as he begins to tell it.

"We're talking about Jesus of Nazareth.

He was a prophet.

He spoke God's word.

He did miraculous things.

He pointed people to God.

But the chief priests and our rulers had him arrested and sentenced to death, and they crucified him."

And then...four words that, if you really understand what's behind them, just rip your heart out.

But.

We.

Had.

Hoped.

One scholar has said these are four of the saddest words in all of Scripture.

But we had hoped.

They summarize the heartache and the loss and the confusion and the despair that the friends and followers of Jesus felt after the crucifixion.

But...we had hoped.

I'm sure there are many of us here who have spoken similar words in the face of a dying dream.

But we had hoped...we thought things would be different.

We weren't prepared for this...we weren't expecting this.

This wasn't supposed to happen!

I wonder if you can resonate with those words.

I can.

And what a good thing to remember that even in the midst of those "we had hoped" moments...Christ walks with us, even if we don't realize it.

Cleopas and his walking partner don't realize it, but they feel comfortable enough to bear their souls to this stranger in their midst.

"We had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel."

And they relate to him their confusion over the reports, just a few hours old, that some women found Jesus' tomb empty, and had claimed that he was actually risen from the dead.

"Then," they continue," some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they didn't see Jesus."

Do you catch the irony in that statement?

They didn't see Jesus.

So they finish their story, and I have to wonder if they stand there a moment and wait for this stranger to offer them words of consolation and compassion.

"You poor things...I'm so sorry you had to go through that.

I'll be praying for you."

So you can imagine their shock when he opens his mouth and basically says:

Don’t be stupid!

Are so foolish and dense that you don’t see what’s happening?

Scripture tells us this is what was supposed to happen.

And he leads them in a Bible study.

About himself.

And as he does, something happens.

Later on they describe it.

They say that their hearts were burning within them.

As they listen to Jesus walk them through the prophets and the promises, as they are told once again about God's amazing plan of redemption, it's as though their hearts are on fire.

And I think there's an important truth in this for us, and here it is:

There's a big difference between reading the Bible and spending time with the Author.

John Wesley, one of the greatest preachers and theologians the church has ever known, had his own Emmaus Road experience through the hearing of Scripture in May of 1738.

Here’s how he describes it:

“I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street where one was reading Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans.

About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed.

I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation, and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins—even mine—and saved me from the law of sin and death.”

Think about it for a moment: The words Wesley heard were three times removed.:

(1) The speaker was reading (2) Luther’s commentary on (3) Paul’s Epistle to the Romans.

Yet even three times removed…Jesus was there.

Wesley met Jesus there.

That's the power of Scripture when it's read with the understanding that we don't have to come to this book alone.

The Author himself desires to meet with us as we study his word.

He desires to reveal himself.

That’s the joy of reading Scripture.

It’s not just learning about God…it’s meeting with God.

It’s coming to know God better as he reveals himself through his word.

And when we grasp that, we are opening our hearts to know that burning, that fire...that warmth that Wesley described.

In fact, I'm certain it's that fire that made Cleopas and his friend so reluctant to say goodbye to their new companion.