“Open My Eyes, That I Might See”

Luke 24:13-35

Years ago I let my parents and know exactly what I wanted for Christmas. Two weeks before Christmas I discovered a package under the tree that was just the right size and weight. Eagerly I awaited Christmas morning.

Christmas morning dawned. We started opening our presents. I saved that “special” box for last, planning for its opening to the climax of the day. Slowly, carefully, maybe even reverently, I took off the ribbon, removed the wrapping paper, moved aside the tissue paper, and looked down into that box. And there it was – exactly what I had not expected. I was crushed.

I got over it – eventually. The hated present, that thing I had not wanted, turned out to be a very good and useful thing. Over time I came to realize that this thing I had not expected was in fact what I really needed. Its long-term value more than made up for my short-term disappointment.

So it was with Cleopas and his companion on their way back to Emmaus. All of their bright hopes and expectations had died and were now sealed away in a tomb with Jesus. Jesus, their long-awaited Messiah, was dead.

He had failed them by not delivering them from Roman oppression and establishing the New Kingdom of Israel. Their political ambitions were dashed to pieces. Jesus had failed them by not being the Messiah they had expected. The months they had spent following him had turned out to me one big waste of time.

So Cleopas and his companion trudged on, walking into the gathering darkness of the coming night. The pretty package that they had assumed to contain their longed-for Messiah turned out to be nothing more than an empty box. Or so they thought.

As they trudged along a stranger joined them. He wanted to know what is what they were discussing. They told him all about the arrest, trial, and crucifixion of Jesus. They even mentioned the women’s idle chatter about a resurrection.

How did the stranger react? First he chided them for being so dense. Then he expounded upon the words of the prophets concerning a different kind of Messiah, a Suffering Servant who wouldn’t be recognized for who he really was. As they walked along with him, listening to his exposition of Scripture, they experienced a warm stirring deep within their hearts. They couldn’t account for it at that moment, but they knew something was going on.

As they neared Emmaus the stranger made as if to journey on. They would have none of it. They invited him to join them for supper. Then it happened. As the stranger broke bread they finally knew who he was. He was Jesus, their risen Savior. He wasn’t dead. He was no longer in a tomb. His missing body was now accounted for.

Then, just like that, Jesus was gone. Now they knew why they had felt the way they had when Jesus was teaching them. Now they understood that the Messiah had come, not as some triumphant soldier-king, but as the Suffering Servant upon who was laid the punishment that made them whole.

Crazy with joy, they headed back to Jerusalem to tell their fellow disciples. There they discovered that their fellow disciples already knew of the resurrection. “The Lord has risen indeed,” were the words that greeted them. Then Cleopas and his friend shared their joyous experience of knowing the risen Lord in the breaking of bread.

Sometimes we all let our dreams give shape to a future we expect. Sometimes we opt for the short-term happiness that comes from getting our way, in the process walking away from long-term joy. Sometimes we have unrealistic expectations that are based on our own false visions of reality. Sometimes what we think is in the package turns out to be something else altogether.

So it was with those first disciples. Even though Jesus had continually told them what was going to happen, they still held on to their sugar plum fairy perceptions of reality. They wanted Jesus to be what they envisioned. They wanted to mold the Messiah in their own image. They wanted to follow their own version of the yellow brick road.

They wanted what they wanted – period. Their minds already having been made up, they did not want to hear the facts. They refused to let reality intrude upon their dreams. God gave them what they needed, but they were too blinded by what they wanted to see the true worth of Jesus.

The good news is that we are no more dense than were those first disciples. The bad news is that we are still just as dense as they were. We may proclaim the glory of the cross, giving lip service to the notion of being fools for Christ, but there will always be some sinful little part of us that refuses to accept a crucified Messiah. We like all that Palm Sunday and Easter stuff. Pentecost sounds like fun. Good Friday, though, is such a downer. Dead Saviors, even those who are resurrected, seem like failures.

The horrible truth about even the most faithful follower of Jesus is that we want all the eternal privileges of discipleship, but we don’t want to follow Jesus in the way of the cross. Oh we like the good times: the music, the worship, and the fellowship we enjoy as Christians. Following Jesus, however, sometimes requires us to pick up our own crosses, put our own wishes aside, abandon our ambitions, give up our dreams, and live lives that are imitations of the Suffering Servant.

Yes, he is risen. He is risen indeed. Yes, he will come again in glory. In the meantime, following him means following the crucified Christ wherever it is that he wants us go, places that don’t always coincide with our pre-planned itineraries.

So what happens when we end up in such places? In the best of worlds, worlds in which disciples always follow Jesus without whining and complaining, we would simply rejoice in our opportunities for service. If you’re like me, and I don’t think I’m all that unusual, acceptance sometimes takes a while. We want what we want when we want it. How dare God give us what he wants us too have when and as he chooses to give it?

How dare he indeed? Because he is God and we are not. He really does know what’s best. Like it or not, it took a Suffering Servant to fulfill God’s intentions for creation. Shortsighted human wishes must always give way to God’s will. Our wants must sometimes be sacrificed for the real needs of the Kingdom.

I was a poor, pitiful, whiney, ungrateful brat that long ago Christmas morning. How dare my parents not give me what I wanted? How dare they give me that thing they knew I needed? Blinded by my own selfishness, I could not accept it for the wonderful gift it truly was.

Cleopas and his friend were poor, pitiful, disappointed disciples as they trudged toward Emmaus. How dare Jesus not be the Messiah they had envisioned? How dare he take them all the way to Jerusalem just to die on a cross? They were blind to God’s truth, deaf to the true meaning of Scriptures they’d been listening to their entire lives.

As Jesus taught them, the truth of Scripture finally made it through their thick skulls. When he broke bread, as he had so many times before, their blindness disappeared. Finally they knew and accepted Jesus for who he really was – the Messiah.

Have we truly accepted Jesus our Messiah? Have we not only accepted that he is risen, but also that his crucifixion had to come first? Do we trust God’s truth? Do we perceive the reality of his Word? Until we can honestly answer all those questions with a yes, we cannot even begin to fathom what it means to be a follower of the crucified Christ. Amen.