"The Abiding Guest"

After three days, company is like……………… I’ve heard several endings for that saying, so I’ll let you fill in the blank. No matter how you end it, that expression reflects how quickly house guests can wear out their welcome. While it’s nice to have company, it’s also nice to have company leave.

In our text for today, a couple of followers of Jesus entertain an unusual guest, one whose presence was not even beginning to wear out when he leaves abruptly. These disciples mistake Jesus for just another visitor to Jerusalem, and are surprised by his apparent ignorance about what’s been going on.

"Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?" For one to be unaware of the events of Holy Week would seem as unlikely to them as it would for us for someone to be unaware of the events of 9-11.

Initially, the disciples treat him as a very irritating guest. Viewed objectively, his question, "What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?" is innocent enough. But it really yanked their chain. They stood still, looking sad. They had placed all their hopes on this "Jesus of Nazareth" as "the one to redeem Israel," but now that hope seemed dashed to pieces.

After a bad day at the office, the husband comes home and snaps at the wife, who then yells at the kids, who in turn kick the dog, who then bites the mailman. We call this displaced aggression – the one who deserves the rage doesn’t receive it. Jesus’ question didn’t deserve the strong reaction it received, but the question had hit a sore spot, and it showed in their reaction.

I guess you could say that one of the great features of this text is that the account is so intensely human. It portrays people as they are, people who are recognizably like us. As the two men on the road to Emmaus discuss current events, they talk down to this stranger when he joins them. They vent their disillusionment over dashed hopes and their evaluation of the women’s report about Jesus’ resurrection approaches male chauvinism when they refer to them generically as "some women," and suggest that their report might be a figment of their imagination.

Even though they initially treat Jesus rather rudely, they begin to regain our respect when they extend to Jesus a little down-home hospitality, when they react emotionally to what turns out to be a pleasant visit with this stranger, and especially when they hurry back to Jerusalem to tell others the good news.

Another neat feature of this text is the way we see the two natures of Christ. Nowhere does the Bible more subtly portray the two natures of Christ. Jesus shares the humanity of these two men, appearing to be unaware of and curios about recent events. He politely and modestly avoids any appearance of sponging off these men, acting like he is going to travel on beyond the place there they chose to stop.

At the same time, we see his divinity accented. Jesus prevents these men from recognizing him, and then vanishes from their sight the moment he opens their eyes so they can recognize him. In these verses, we can clearly see Jesus as the God-man.

Equally subtle is the evidence this story supplies for the historical and factual proof of Jesus’ resurrection. People who are eager to palm off fiction as fact are not likely to be portrayed in a bad light like Cleopas and his companion are.

Here are two followers of Jesus. They are impolite, condescending, grumpy, and above all they doubt the Messianic prophecy and the report about Jesus’ resurrection. The fact that this story is free of public relation concerns and of a detailed eyewitness account of Jesus’ resurrection just as it occurred suggests this story’s truthfulness.

As I worked through this text, I realized, just as you may have by now realized, here we are, the third Sunday of Easter, and we’re still reading about events of that first Easter day. And that’s good, because there is a lot of information from that day to sort through. But mere facts don’t always convince. We must have faith in the historical fact of Christ’s resurrection. We can’t just assume Christ rose. We can’t suppose Christ rose. There must be something for faith to cling

Jesus’ followers had a real blind spot when it came to the fact that their Messiah had to suffer and die. Peter tried to talk Jesus out of that notion, only to be rebuked by Jesus with the words; "Get behind me satan." Jesus calls his traveling companions on the Emmaus road foolish and slow of heart for not believing what the prophets had spoken.

Then, Jesus begins with Moses and the prophets and interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself, showing them, an showing us that the books of the Old Testament are more than a collection of historical episodes, miracle accounts, poetry, and wise moral sayings. Those books are a vehicle for the Gospel. They testify to Christ. Both the prophecy and the typology point to Him.

Their mood of sadness and despair were changed because of this man and what he had said to them. They wanted more. They wanted to understand more about what he was talking about. So they asked him to stay.

Then it happened. They went into an inn to eat supper, they sat down together, and Jesus taking the bread into his hands, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. Then these two men discovered who this stranger was. He was their friend Jesus. Their eyes had been opened.

The text says that they could now even understand all he was telling them as they walked with him. Their mood changed from one of sadness and despair, to one of joy, to one of hopefulness, to one of excitement. Luke tells us that they arose that same hour and went back to Jerusalem. I bet they didn’t walk back slowly, with heads bowed and eyes fixed upon the ground. They had to get back and tell their other friends about what had happed.

They had to tell the others that Jesus had risen, that Jesus had done what he promised. They went back in a completely different mood. Now they were happy. They were excited. They were hopeful about the future. They knew they were no longer alone. Their friend, their teacher, their Savior was alive and abiding with them again.

When we come to worship with all the brokenness of this world shutting our eyes to God’s love, Jesus can open them again so we can see again his great love for us. Many of us enter God’s house with the same kind of sadness and despair that the men who walked the Emmaus way did. We are sad because of grief, pain, hurts, trials, and broken relationships that we encounter everyday in our lives.

We come in a state of despair because of our failure to live up to our own expectations or those of others. We come in despair because life has not gone the way we wanted, or the way we expected. We come with all the weight of the world on us, not fully knowing if we can bear up or if we even want to bear up.

Every Sunday, every time we place ourselves in the Word, Jesus comes to us and explains to us that he is our God, that he is the one who suffered and can release us from our burdens, can help us carry our loads, can lead us down the path of life.

He opens our eyes to the miracle of Easter, and assures us that he abides with us always, even to the end of the world. We are not alone in this world, but we have a Savior who walks with us, who cares about us who loves us very much.

Yes, Jesus opens our eyes, puts a burning feeling in our hearts as we listen to his words and the stories about him each time we come to, his house to worship. But he doesn’t stop there. He comes to us in a meal like he came to the men at the inn in Emmaus. He comes to us with the breaking of bread and drinking wine assuring us that he is risen, that he has conquered death, that he is with us, that he is in our very bodies and souls.

Jesus comes to us this morning and assures us he is our risen Lord, that he is with us in our everyday world, and that he is the lord of our everyday life.

Even though heaven was his home, the risen Lord abides with us as our earthly guest through the living Word and Holy Supper. He fills our empty hearts with himself, and we are glad to make him our abiding guest. Amen