“Then Their Eyes Were Opened, and They Recognized Him”

Luke 24:13-35

Easter 3

Luke 24:13-27
¹³Now on that same day [that Peter had run to the tomb and found the linen cloths there by themselves], two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, ¹⁴and talking with each other about all these things that had happened.

¹⁵While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, ¹⁶but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. ¹⁷And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad.

¹⁸ Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” ¹⁹He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, ²⁰and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. ²¹But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place.

²² Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, ²³and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. ²⁴Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.”

²⁵ Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! ²⁶Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?”

²⁷Then, beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

²⁸As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. ²⁹But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them.

³⁰When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. ³¹Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.

³²They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” ³³That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. ³⁴They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” ³⁵Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

The Sermon

It happens every Sunday, somewhere.

The Bible calls it the Road to Emmaus. We call it Sunday worship.

First comes the conversation between any two or more of us, when we aren’t even expecting that Jesus is there with us. Whether it’s small talk or high philosophy, you bring to your conversation all the contradictions of who you are—your fears, your dreams; the things that scare you, enrage you, make you laugh, make you think.

But even in church, we share most of our conversations without even expecting that Jesus is walking right alongside of us.

And then, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, we re-tell the story of Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people; and how the chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death, and crucified him—even though we had hoped that he was the one to redeem God’s people—and how some women of the group astounded the others; they were at the tomb early that morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and announced that they had seen a vision of angels, who said that he was alive.

“No, I don’t usually tell that story,” you may say; but you do.

You tell it when you walk into this room and lay your eyes on the cross behind me, and something within you silently acknowledges the terror of what the cross meant for one man, and the miracle that the cross, like the tomb, is now empty.

You tell that story every time you put your offering into the plate, to give the best that you have to God’s work, in response to God, and what God has done for you on that cross.

You tell it when you bring your kids to Sunday School. You tell it when you bring your parents to Sunday School.

And then, maybe without even realizing it, you invite him to stay with you. We call that the introit, the call to worship, the prayer of confession, the hymns, the prayer for illumination; all of these are invitations that you extend, asking him if he will come and stay with you and maybe break bread with you at the table.

When he was at the table with the disciples he’d met on the road to Emmaus, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.

It happens so fast, and no generation in history has been more inclined to miss it.

So many things distract us, and it’s so easy to take the story—and his presence—for granted. We are the supreme multi-taskers, and if we get a little too busy to pay attention, hey, big deal; church will be here next Sunday. If we get a little stressed and don’t feel like God needs our money and time and resources as much as, say, Disney does—hey, God will understand. Classify it under “family time,” and God will understand just about anything, don’t you think?

He took bread, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.

What did they think, in that instant of recognition?

Jaws on the floor—“Oh my God” is right: He’s right here! And he’s been here! And we didn’t even realize it; didn’t even pick up on it; certainly didn’t expect it.

Carolina Beach Presbyterian Church, I am telling you now, as your pastor, and as a fellow multi-tasker who is about an hour and a half away from loading the family into the car and heading to Disney World: it is time for us to start expecting that he is here among us.

For several years we have accepted the blessing of new brothers and sisters increasing our ability to serve God, to share God’s love with more people, and to be astounded at the gifts, the goodness, and the love that our church has been given, and has been giving, since 23 saints chartered our church in 1943—and that it is being given even now, as each monthly session meeting seems to bring in more new members and families “to share in the feast which he has prepared.”

He is here. Our eyes have been opened in the breaking of the bread. Expect his presence. Expect his teaching to be life-changing. Expect his love to be all-consuming. Expect discipleship to cost something. But expect it now, because as soon as their eyes were opened, he vanished from their sight.

And I’m sorry to tell you that that’s the way it tends to happen.

We will not always see him with crystal clarity. You get glimpses. The road of righteousness is notoriously overgrown and hidden, and sometimes even passes through dangerous territory. We cannot always see our savior as clearly as we would like, in tough times or tough decisions or worst of all, when we’re too busy or too apathetic or too content with ourselves to care that much.

You don’t need me to applaud you or to lecture you on how much or how little you have done to acknowledge him Lord of all life. That’s between you and God.

But he is always here. And with him, “always” means eternity. With him we are safe, we are free, we are home. May our hearts burn within us when he opens the scriptures to us, and may we see him clearly, if just for a moment, in the breaking of the bread.

Keith Grogg

Carolina Beach Presbyterian Church

Carolina Beach, NC

April 6, 2008