“Now on that same day, two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” (Luke 24: 13-16)
More than once I’ve preached about the Lord’s penchant for blessing His people in-between. As much as we’re comforted in the conviction that God is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, it’s just as transformational to find that Jesus is the Lord of the transition too…and thank God for that since the in-between is where we spend most our time. It’s where I am; it’s where you are (whether you know it or not); it’s where they were. Did you see?
They were no longer in Jerusalem, but they weren’t yet home…They were somewhere in the middle.
They were sure the Jesus experiment had gone kaput and yet they couldn’t be less confident about what came next. They were somewhere in between.
Indeed, the in-between is a burdensome place to be and yet God has a history of using the middle as a setup for the miraculous.
That said, this Emmaus passage is pregnant with possibility. The seeds of transformation within the text are easy to spot. However, when you’re the one on the road, the tension of transition and the turbulence therein always seems to toy with our capacity to trust and can work like cataracts on the lenses of clarity. Such was the case for Cleopas and his traveling companion and so it is for us. The Emmaus road must serve as a GPS route for us, lest we become beleaguered by our own in-betweens and thereby discard the divine that is often mixed in with the dishwater of disruption.
To that end, take a moment and mine this treasure from the text:
“Now on that same day, two of them were going…Jesus came near and went with…”
If you simply flip-flop the phrases and change the tense, what we unearth is more than a statement, it’s an assurance: “Jesus comes near and goes with those who are going.”
Anybody en route needs to take that diamond, dust off the debris and stick it in their suitcase.
When the going is tough, the risen Christ going with is really good news.
It’s been a little more than a month’s time since I announced our (the Steele Family’s) reassignment to serve Forrest Burdette Memorial UMC in Hurricane in July. For those who have been disconnected from our worshiping community since late February, this may come as a surprise and I lament that you’re finding out this way. But alas, in between A and B, I’m aware that sometimes private ruminations can seep into public conversations and what started as an assumption can suddenly sprout legs and whisk us to places that are miles away from the truth.
Subsequently, to set the record straight, yes, we are moving in June; and no, I nor the church requested a reassignment. Yes, I accepted the reassignment and no, the Bishop is not forcing us to relocate despite the pain associated with saying goodbye and the excitement of saying hello. Yes, we did release the findings of the church-wide survey a week prior to my announcement and emphatically—no, my relocation has nothing to do with the survey no matter how causal the two may appear. No, it’s not easy for us to uproot; it downright hurts and yes, there is joy for what is to come collectively for Forrest Burdette and the Christ Church families. Both are true simultaneously.
You might be reticent. Certainly. You might be ready. Good. You might be somewhere…in between. That’s ok too. Cleopas could confirm the goodness of a God who goes with those who are going. He’d also say something about sticking around. You won’t want to miss what happens next.
