Surprised by Jesus

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THERE is so much of the Easter narrative that quickens my spirit – or leaves me heavy hearted.

I shrivel with shame to think of how I’ve denied my Lord and shrink at the thought of Him looking straight at me; ‘The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.’

Deep down, I fear that I might have fled with the other disciples when they came to arrest Him; ‘Then all his disciples deserted him and ran away.’ And I’m not at all confident that I wouldn’t have joined the mob; ‘But they kept shouting, “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

And I don’t suppose there’s much chance that I’d have lingered at the cross in those final moments; ‘Standing near the cross were Jesus’ mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary (the wife of Clopas), and Mary Magdalene.’

But imagine having been with Him on THAT day as the crowds welcomed Him and spread their cloaks and branches before Him?

Imagine having been there on THAT evening at the meal when he broke bread and poured wine and washed feet?

And imagine having been there on THAT morning when the women came bursting into the room to tell that the tomb was empty? Imagine.

But the part of the drama that excites me most describes what, according to Luke, happened on the afternoon and evening of Resurrection Day. We’re told that two of His followers – Cleopas is the only one named – were on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus and that they were discussing together ‘everything that had happened.’

Their response to the One who drew alongside them as they walked makes it clear that the ‘everything that had happened’ refers directly to what had happened to their Lord. And though they had probably heard the report of the empty tomb, it seems clear enough that they were heavy-hearted and not at all convinced of the veracity of the report. They were defeated, despondent, dejected, downcast. Take your pick.

Even so, as they neared their destination they asked that their travelling companion stay with them for darkness was falling.

It was late in the day so certainly it would have been. Little did they know that light was about to break in.

Here’s what Luke tells us; ‘So He went in to stay with them. While He was reclining at the table with them, He took bread, spoke a blessing and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognised Jesus – and He disappeared from their sight.’

As He broke bread and blessed it, and gave it to them, their eyes were opened. Like Paul’s following the laying on of hands post-Damascus Road.

And then He was gone. But they knew it had been Him.

Jesus.

Did they suspect? Was it a hunch, an educated guess? No, they knew for their hearts burned within them. And with that, despite the lateness of the hour that had, a short time earlier so concerned them, they started out back to Jerusalem. And finding the other believers, ‘the two told what had happened on the road, and how they had recognised Jesus in the breaking of the bread.’

The account is dear to me for all kinds of reasons but I’ll mention two.

Firstly, I’ve been to Emmaus and with the party that I’d taken on pilgrimage, I celebrated Holy Communion, the Lord’s Supper. Never was it more special. If I never have opportunity to return to that place and even if I never have opportunity to share the sacrament of bread and wine again, I’ll treasure that moment.

Secondly, on an Easter evening in the mid-nineties, the Emmaus Road account came to life for me in a very special way. The week leading up to Easter had been as hectic as ever; a holiday club for local children every morning and worship services every evening. And three funerals for good measure. I’d got the 8am Sunrise Service organised and so too the 11am Family Celebration. But I just hadn’t had time to prepare a sermon for the evening service.

And I was panicking. Before that, I’d always relied on a word for word script for my preaching. Going down to the church that evening, I was in a cold sweat. I was going to have to stand in front of a big congregation without a word in front of me and I wasn’t at all confident that when I opened my mouth anything would come out! What could I do but offer a quick-fire prayer and hope for the best?

And then it happened. I started to preach and the words flowed. And flowed and flowed. I’ll never forget the joy of the moment and the sense of freedom and of being really alive. It was as if a fire was burning within me. I could do no other than talk about Jesus, proclaiming Him to be alive.

My preaching was never the same again. There was a new confidence, a sure sense that I had found the ‘me’ within me, the person I was meant to be. What joy!

The passage I preached through that evening? Luke 24:13-35. The Road to Emmaus.

I love that we’re not told the name of the second of the two travellers. There’s plenty of speculation as to who it might have been but no one can say for sure. I like that because it makes it easier for me to imagine that I’m the other person. I can imagine walking and being joined by Jesus and having Him explain the scriptures to me. I’d ask Him about all those difficult passages! And I can imagine sitting with Him at the table and having Him offer a blessing and then breaking the bread.

Are you ready to be surprised by Jesus showing up? And as you break bread, do you long to have your eyes opened and to seeing like you’ve never seen before? Do you long to have that fire burning within you?

Jesus.

And in all of this might there be hope for the Church to become what we’re meant to be?

A gathering of those who travel with Jesus.

A gathering of those who share table fellowship with Jesus at the centre.

“I’ll never forget the joy of the moment and the sense of freedom and of being really alive. It was as if a fire was burning within me. I could do no other than talk about Jesus, proclaiming Him to be alive.

A gathering of those who are so transformed by having met Jesus that they can do no other than declare Him to be alive.

A gathering of those no longer in retreat but heading back to Jerusalem, the site of cross and tomb.

A gathering of those who will walk with others that they too might come to encounter this Jesus.

A gathering of those who in offering hospitality discover Jesus among them.

When we can all meet again, and until then on Zoom, I’d love to hear about what parts of the Easter story excite you.

May the blessing of the Risen Lord be yours. May He set a fire in your soul that you can’t contain and can’t control.

Jesus.

The Rt Rev Dr Martin Fair is Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland in 2020/21.