Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. – Proverbs 13:12
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 24:32
The two men walked together on the road almost shoulder to shoulder. They spoke no words between them. It was almost as if speaking about what happened out loud would give it more weight. Make it more unbearably real. So they walked together in silence, as though their closeness could shield them from the beast that followed them closely, the beast that is despair.
The stones crackled beneath their feet as they plodded on the dusty road. None of it made sense. One man glanced at the other, seeking reassurance he was still there even though their shoulders had just bumped each other’s. He said “Cleopas…”
A torrent of speech erupted between them. They spoke over each other. They walked facing each other, gesturing wildly. They talked about the Rabbi’s crucifixion. About the rumors. About their confusion. They barely looked forward. And maybe that was why they didn’t see the third man walking with them.
But suddenly, he was there, politely listening to them, to their animated speech, to their wellspring of emotion pouring out. He asked them what they were talking about. Both of the men stared at him.
Cleopas felt like he could scream at the man. “Are you the only one around here who doesn’t know WHAT HAPPENED?” Cleopas demanded, his voice choking with emotion.
The man looked at him placidly. “What things?” he asked calmly, as though welcoming their flood of speech. And the two men started pouring out the story again, their misery and their confusion bubbling up from their sickened hearts.
The man listened briefly, but then He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Didn’t the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter His glory?” (Luke 24: 25-26).
They abruptly stopped speaking. The man went on, explaining to them. He told them about what the prophets said about the Messiah. He explained the Scriptures. And they listened in rapt attention, amazed, their mouths open and their hearts lighter as He spoke. The Man went to leave. But the two said it was getting late. Past dinnertime, they said. He should stay and join them, they said. They would get Him dinner. They just wanted to hear more from this Man. It seemed to them that every word He spoke brought them greater peace and joy. And yet it seemed so reasonable. So logical. Of course these things had to happen.
He sat at the table and broke bread with them. And in that second they understood why everything He said made sense. They were listening to the very Word of God.
He disappeared from them. It almost didn’t matter. What mattered was that they told someone, anyone, everyone that He had been with them. They had seen Him. He had risen. They said they realized it was Him because of the way their hearts burned when He spoke. But perhaps it was the hope and peace His words gave them. Perhaps it was His presence. Or perhaps it was that they had just listened to the True and Eternal Word of God.
They practically ran all the way back to Jerusalem from Emmaus so they could tell the eleven Apostles and anyone else who would listen. The sky was darkening by the time they got to Jerusalem. But for them the hour of the day was no longer late. Instead, to them the day had been made new. And they would always remember the evening that their grieved and sickened hearts had found hope and joy in the words and the presence of their Messiah and their Savior.
Written by Janet Keefe
