Wilderness Wanderings

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, "Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over." So, he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?" (Luke 24:28-32).

The first meal recorded in the Bible is heavy with significance. The woman took some fruit and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened (cf. Genesis 3:6-7).

That meal is the beginning of humanities woes. Death itself is traced to this meal of rebellion. The whole creation subjected to decay, futility, and sorrow. It seems Luke is echoing this story, describing the first meal of God's new creation. "He took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened."

In the first creation story, their eyes are opened, they realize they are naked. They are ashamed. It is bad. In the new creation, their eyes are opened, they recognize Jesus. Their hearts burn. It is good.

The Emmaus disciples discover that the long curse has been broken. Death itself defeated. God's new creation, brimming with life and joy and new possibility, has burst in upon the world of decay and sorrow. Jesus himself, risen from the dead, is just the beginning.

He resurrection is not the same as that of Jairus's daughter or the widow's son. They had to face death again. Jesus went through death and came out the other side opening a new world, a new deathless creation, still physical only transformed.

Luke invites us to listen to the Biblical story, to have our hearts burning within us as fresh truth comes out of that old story. The careful study of the Bible is meant to bring together head and heart, understanding and excited Christian living. When we see the Old Testament as reaching its natural climax in Jesus, we have understood it. We will only understand Jesus when we see him as the one to whom scripture points, not in isolated prooftexts but in the entire flow of the story. And, when we grasp this, we will find our hearts burning within us.

Also, we are invited to know Jesus in the breaking of the bread. The way Luke has described the simple meal takes our minds back to the upper room, and to other meals that Jesus shared with his followers. This meal, the breaking of bread, quickly became the central symbolic action of Jesus' people.

Though Jesus is no longer physically present, we discover him living with and in us through this meal. Scripture and sacrament, word and meal, are joined tightly together. Take scripture away, and the sacrament becomes a piece of magic. Take the sacrament away, and scripture becomes an intellectual or emotional exercise, detached from real life. But together, we have the centre of Christian living.

When Jesus' parents found him in the temple, early in Luke's gospel, he said to them, 'Didn't you know that I would have to be doing my Father's work?' Here we are invited to meet the Jesus who has finished his Father's work, and longs to share it – the gift of his own presence – with us, his followers.

Luke has described for us the new Exodus that Jesus accomplished at Jerusalem (cf. 9:31). The real slave-master keeping us in bondage is death. Earthly tyrants borrow power from death to boost their rule; thus, crucifixion was such a symbol of Roman authority. Victory over death robs these earthly powers of their final threat. Sin, humans rebelling against God and defacing God's good creation, is likewise defeated.

Jesus has led God's new people out of slavery, and now invites us to accompany him on the new journey to the promised land. The road to Emmaus is just the beginning. Hearing Jesus' voice in scripture, knowing him in the breaking of bread, is the way. God's new world is here. Jesus welcomes us in.

An extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Psalm 62 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. What does it mean to have an "unshakable" foundation for your house? What about for your life?
2. What do you have to do in order to benefit from that unshakable foundation? What are some of the stories Pastor Anthony shared that can help you remember?
3. Are there any stories from your own life of when you didn't/did benefit from having God as your unshakable foundation?
4. How do we listen and respond to God? Said differently: what sorts of things does God say and what sort of responses might we give?
5. We know about prayer, but what might "pouring your heart out" to God look like? Was there anything that surprised you in Pastor Anthony's description?
6. It's important to continue to encourage one another too! God uses us to help ground one another on the solid foundation that is Jesus. So, how might you encourage someone else to trust God today?

He said to them, "How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?" And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself. (Luke 24:25-27)

As they walked away from Jerusalem, Cleopas and the other disciple recited the whole gospel message back to Jesus. "Jesus was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people" they said. "We had placed our hope in him as the one who would redeem Israel. But he was crucified and died. And now on this third day reports have come of angels and him being alive again… but when some of our companions went to check it out, though the tomb really was empty, they didn't see Jesus."

Cleopas and his companion have all the accurate truths of the gospel story. But somehow it hasn't quite been enough to spark belief. Indeed, this very journey out of town is a giving up on Jerusalem and their hopes of Jesus and whatever salvation he may have brought.

You see, the right information and the right beliefs are not enough in themselves to generate faith in Christ. Which is why apologetics rarely win anyone to Christ. What these disciples lacked was the breath of God to inspire the words they spoke and bring those dead bones to life.

Said differently, the truth of Jesus is not merely learned, it is also experienced: revealed, lived, given as a gift of a Sovereign God who still acts in our lives today as he breathes the dead words of our faith to life in the life of Christ.

This is exactly what Jesus does as he walks with these hopelessly downcast disciples journeying in the wrong direction. He breathes his words into them: the words of scripture, revealed through the word of he, the risen Lord Christ. Beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explains and brings to life all these scriptures concerning himself. It is the gift of revelation, worked by the risen Lord that brings their faith to life.

And even still, it would not be enough. This inspired word of the risen Lord would still need to be confirmed to them through the sacramental breaking of the bread before they would truly see Jesus as he was. But already now, their hearts begin to burn within them as the breath of God breathes the scriptures open to them.

Our post-Pentecost confession has always been that it is the Spirit's work to inSPIRE our hearing of the scriptures, which is why we pray for his guidance before we open them. We believe similarly that it is the Spirit's work to give the gift of faith; the Spirit's work to communicate Christ to us through the sacraments in such a way that we can taste and see that the Lord is good.

Truth is important, necessary even. But without the work of the living God here and now in our own hearts and lives, the truth remains dead in the mists of Good Friday. It takes a living Lord to breath life into our faith. And thanks be to God: he does.

Similarly good news is that our conversation with anyone who might not believe, does not rest on our ability to be a rhetorical ninja or an apologetical genius. It is God that gives the gift of revelation and of faith, and the Spirit is still doing that work. We simply play assistant to what God is already up to.

Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him (Luke 24:13-16).

Apart for some of Jesus' parables, this story is one of the more beloved episodes of our Lord's life. Treasured, not because of its suspense, but its space for meditation. It's a slow story, simple, profound, and rather poignant.

Two of Jesus disciples (many suspect that the second was Cleopas' wife) have left Jerusalem for home. They may have entered the city a week ago along with Jesus on that donkey, with high hopes of a turning point in Israel's fortune. Israel's long-awaited Messiah had arrived. But everything has disintegrated. If Jesus had been the one to redeem Israel, he should have been defeating the pagans, not dying at their hands!

Its likely that they are on their way home, wondering how to start life over. They had pinned everything on Jesus. Now he was dead. He last words, "It is finished" still rang in their ears. Imprinted on their memories, that last breath, along with the image of his lifeless body hanging limp on the cross.

That was Friday. Now its late Sunday. A story began circulating early in the day that he was alive. Some of their friends had seen him. But that is crazy. Dead people just don't come back to life. Yes, of course, Lazarus had, but that was Jesus' doing. Now he is dead. Who is there to bring him back to life?

It is all too much. They left the city and, on the way, went over events again and again, trying to make sense of it all. Why had their expectations of the Messiah come to such a tragic end? And what were they to do with this story that he was alive again? They could not piece it together. Too many questions and too few answers.

As they talk, Jesus joins them though they do not realize it is him. Their eyes are "kept from recognizing him." And here we pause and ask 'why'? Why don't they recognize him? Some have postulated that Jesus was somehow different from before, already a little glorious.

Maybe it's a case of "We see what we expect to see". Their conversation has been heavy with sorrow, disappointment, and bewilderment; their hearts are so full with pain, they don't really see the stranger who has joined them. They don't expect him to be alive, so they can't see him when he joins them.

Or maybe God just closed their eyes for a while. Luke doesn't tell us.

An experience with the living God was what they wanted; but though he came to them, and walked alongside them, their hearts were too full of brokenness to notice him right there with them.

Let's pause the story here for today. As disciples of Jesus, we may find ourselves in the very same place. We live with dashed hopes and dreams. Life is full of disappointments. We may even be disappointed with God. And yet we long for God.

If you're in such a space, take time to sit there today.

Now notice that Jesus joins them in their walk home. He is there with them, even though they do not recognize him. It is Psalm 23 in action.

We can be sure that Jesus walks with us too. Like these two disciples, we may not notice at first. We assume God will show up in certain ways, so when he appears differently, we don't see him, at least, not at first. Often, God is not like we expect him to be, he is like himself. And that is good.

Then they remembered his words. When they came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the Eleven and to all the others. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others with them who told this to the apostles. But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense. Peter, however, got up and ran to the tomb. Bending over, he saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened. (Luke 24:8-12)

In a Matthew & Mark, the women are commanded to go and tell the (male) disciples. But, Luke—ever mindful of the place of both men and women in the church—writes it a bit differently. Here in Luke, the angels don't command the women to tell anyone. Instead, the angels remind the women about Jesus own words to them about his coming death and resurrection. Words which the women do indeed remember—because they are just as much disciples as anyone else.

The angels just click one piece of the puzzle into place for the women. "This odd empty tomb you're seeing now is what Jesus was talking about when he told you he'd be raised on the third day." With that piece put together for them: it clicks. The women remember. And once they remember—no one needs to tell them to go and tell. They just do it. They witness to what they have seen, heard, and remember.

Now, no one believed them at the time. To the others who had not witnessed what the women had witnessed, it seemed like utter nonsense. It would only later click into place with the others as they too had experiences of the living Lord that caused them to remember.

Memory plays a key role throughout these resurrection day accounts in Luke, as it does throughout the rest of the scriptures. It is our remembering of the whole story of the Creation and Salvation of our God that forms the lens through which we interpret our experiences of God's movement in the present. It is this same remembering that colours in all our expectant hopes and longings for the future.

This is one reason why we continually rehearse and remind ourselves through preaching, sacrament, and devotion of all great deeds of our Lord. It's not necessarily meant to be special in the moment. Perhaps half the time (or more) it seems like nonsense.

But then, at the significant junctures of our lives, when we find ourselves on utterly new and unsettling terrain as the women did that first Easter Sunday, that's when the memory of these words and sacramental actions click back into place and ground us back into the larger reality of God's work.

We remember that in our baptisms God said, "you are my child, whom I love." We remember that Jesus fed us at his table and said, "eat, drink, remember and believe that you are forgiven." We remember the words of scripture where Jesus has promised, "Behold, I am coming soon." And as we remember, so we are again enabled to believe, and therefore also to witness anew to the faithful work of the risen Lord in our lives.

On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: 'The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.'" Then they remembered his words (Luke 24:1-8).

In Genesis, God's creation work is completed in six days, the seventh is for rest. Here, at the heart of redemption history, on the sixth day, the work of salvation is complete (23:54; cf. Jn. 19:30). And Luke points out that on the seventh day 'they rested according to the commandment' (23:56).

And now, 'on the first day' (24:1) a new week begins. It is the first day of a new era, a new creation. A whole new world is coming into being on that first Christian Sunday. Thus, Luke ends his Gospel with an account of that first day which begins the new age.

In Genesis, the creation story begins with "Let there be light" and there was light (1:3). Rather dramatic.

This new era begins with far less drama. Women are going to the tomb to rub spices into a dead body. But when they get there, the tomb is mysteriously open, and the body is gone. While they are wondering about this, two men with clothing bright like lightning appear. The women are frightened and bow to the ground.

Like in Genesis, God is at work, but here, he is in the background. The men say, "[Jesus] is not here; he has been raised!" telling us that God is responsible for Jesus' return to life. God has intervened, just as Jesus promised. "Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: 'The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again'" (9:22).

Jesus is alive. The tomb could not hold him.

They remember his words, but there is no 'aha' moment. They don't seem to know what to do with this information. They are puzzled, and understandably so; 'resurrection', in their world, was what God would do in the end for all the righteous dead, giving renewed bodies to everyone from Abraham, Isaac and Jacob down to the most recent righteous martyrs. This resurrection would be a large-scale event. After Israel's great and final suffering, all God's people would be given new life, new bodies.

We shouldn't be surprised at how surprised they were on the first Easter morning. It wasn't just a lack of faith that had stopped them understanding what Jesus had said about his rising again. Nobody had dreamed that one single living person would be killed stone dead and then raised to a new bodily life the other side of the grave, while the rest of the world carried on as before.

The women, obviously, weren't expecting it. They weren't going to the tomb saying to themselves, 'Well, we've got the spices in case he's still dead, but let's hope he's alive again.' They knew well enough that dead people remained dead. Nobody was expecting this.

The opening mood of Easter morning is one of surprise, astonishment, fear, and confusion. It will take some time before Jesus' disciples believe in this new era. Its all a bit much to believe.

And isn't that still true today? It's a bit much to believe. Many will not believe it. Who can blame them? If its true, it's the biggest news in the world. But most of the world is carrying as before. And so often, Christians as well, carry on as if nothing really happened, early on that first day of the week.

God did the work in the beginning. God did the work of raising Jesus from the dead. Before people can come to their 'aha' moment, and believe that Jesus is alive, God needs to be at work in them, bringing them to faith.

The resurrection is cause for rejoicing. But it is also a cause for prayer, that God will bring people to this astonishing faith: He has risen. Maybe we need to begin with prayer for ourselves, that we will not carry on as if nothing has happened.

A Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Romans 6:1-14 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, who had not consented to their decision and action. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea, and he himself was waiting for the kingdom of God. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus' body. Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid. It was Preparation Day, and the Sabbath was about to begin. The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment. (Luke 23:50-56)

Holy Saturday is a liminal space.

What does that mean? Well, a liminal space is a space between the end of one thing and the beginning of another. It's an in-between space. It's the threshold of a door that connects the outside to the inside, but which isn't really either of them. It's the bridge that connects two countries, but that belongs to both or neither of them. Liminal space is the no-man's-land in between.

But a liminal space can also be a period of time. The time between completing school and receiving your diploma at graduation. The time between sending an application and hearing a response. The time of engagement between agreeing to marry and being married. The time between Jesus' first coming and his second. All of these are liminal times. But the principle archetype that gives meaning to all of them is the liminal space and time between Jesus' death and resurrection.

Because liminal spaces and times are not always happy places to be. The space between a diagnosis, an accident, or the death of a loved one and whatever life looks like on the other side is a liminal space marked by grief and many other emotions that can stretch on for what seems like ages. And in the suffering we endure through the middle of them, we can wonder if the new life of Easter is ever going to come.

This past few years of pandemic time has also been a liminal space. Much of the life and world we knew ended somehow, perhaps in ways we have yet to discover. Whatever life will look like on the other side is not yet known, though we are anxious to hold it, or to resolve the tension of this messy middle as quickly as possible to get there. But Easter tarries. All we're left with to hold on to is a swirl of restless emotions and the knowledge of what we've lost.

I think this little passage in Luke about what happened in between the death and resurrection of Jesus can help us navigate any liminal space or time we may find ourselves in though: whether coming out of pandemic, awaiting a decision, or grieving and adjusting following the loss of someone or something dear.

Because, this particular liminal space between the death and resurrection of Jesus is marked by something quite different than the day before. While Good Friday was marked by loud angry mobs pushing to get what they wanted for their own selfish and sinful reasons—Holy Saturday is marked by just a few people quietly and humbly giving of themselves to practice faithfulness and love.

Joseph—waiting for the kingdom of God—lovingly and quietly cares for the lifeless body of Jesus. The women prepare to do the same with spices and perfumes. And then they too join the faithful posture of waiting in trust on God: they rest on the Sabbath.

The fact that Holy Saturday is a Sabbath day is of great significance, I think. The faithful disciples practiced Sabbath in the liminal space. They loved, cared, and trusted. They waited. They rested in the promises of God. And in so doing, they gave their restlessness and emotions over to God.

In each liminal season of our lives, I believe we are called to the same.

This is a Special Good Friday edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Matthew 27:11-56 from the New International Version of the Bible.

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

Before I give today's devotion, a word about this weekend. There will be no Wilderness Wanderings published on Friday or Monday. Pastor Anthony will publish an episode for Saturday. You can find it wherever you get your podcasts. The written version can be found on the Bridge App and the Wilderness Wanderings website. The email will not come out till Monday.

Now for today's edition.

Hands. Wicked hands. "Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners" (Matthew 26:45). Later, Peter would declare that Jesus was crucified by "wicked men" (Acts 2:23).

Wicked hands formed a crown of thorns and rammed it on His brow. Wicked hands lacerated His back. Wicked hands slapped Him and shoved Him. Wicked hands put nails through His hands and feet. Wicked hands hoisted up his cross beam and clunked it into place.

All this while the sun shone, in the light, public. Then it went dark … not like a cloud covering the sun … but dark. The dark of night that scares us as children (and as adults). There was more here than the hands of men. Are the very hands of evil reaching out towards Jesus?

Darkness! A sign of God's judgement recalling the nineth plague in Egypt before the first-born died. Darkness! So dark that God was gone? "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Silence.

Yet the nail punctured hands on that cross are not clenched in anger. They remain, as always, reaching out in love. He has nearly bled to death. Nails through his body fixed him to the wood of the cross, hanging him there, barely able to gasp enough oxygen to survive. Slowly, he is suffocating to death; hung up like a piece of meat.

His ought to be the ultimate image of inaction and passive acquiescence. And yet, it is precisely at this moment that Jesus takes his life out of the evil hands of his tormentors. He places it confidently in the hands of his Father.

Jesus voluntarily gave Himself into the hands of sinners, the hands of "wicked people". Now he voluntarily gives Himself into the hands of God. "No one took my life. I gave it freely. Now I commit my life to my father." He will not let his crucifiers have the last word or determine the significance of his cross.

All the words that Jesus has spoken, all the deeds that he has done, it is now up to God to make it all worthwhile. The next move is God's. Jesus has taken his life, all that he is, all that he has said and done and been, and given it over to the Father.

The next move, the last move, as it always is, is God's. "No one can come to the Father, except through the Son", Jesus had said (John 14:6). Now the Son is dead. Now the Father is silent.

Sit here for a while in the darkness. Is it possible that "wicked hands" will have the final word?

Now notice this. The curtain in the temple is torn in two. It's that curtain that separates us from God, keeping God inaccessible to us unholy humans. The Son is dead. The Father is silent. But the way is open.

A small sign really, that torn temple curtain. The big announcement would need to wait. It would come on Sunday. The women, those faithful disciples, would come to the tomb and find it empty.

Jesus has been about his Father's business. They were in this together all along, along with the Holy Spirit. They were working out our salvation. The torn curtain, the empty tomb. They have done it. Jesus led the way, the way to the Father is now open. Sins are forgiven. The kingdom has come.

That way of sacrifice is the way of the kingdom, it broke the hold of evil. It was not the hands of evil, but the hands of love that won and still win.