After that day, everything was different. The first disciples witnessed a dead man walking. Their lives would be forever changed, defined by “life before Easter” and life “life after Easter.” On numerous occasions, Jesus showed up in resurrected form before he ascended. In the season of Easter we will examine six “after Easter” encounters with Jesus. What did he say and do? In what practical ways does resurrection change my daily life? Nothing will ever be the same.
Invocation
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Invitation
“You have made us for Yourself. And our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” (Augustine)
Creator of all things, hear my voice, for you have made it. You who live in heaven, hear my prayer from earth. I am one person in one little town in one corner of your vast creation. Of all the people on the planet, hear me also. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Confession
O God, in the beginning you made us good, even “very good.” I admit the many things in my life that are far from your good intent. I try to change, and then find myself in the same place once again. Lord, you know me. Have mercy. Make me right. Forgive my wickedness. Bring me back to good, as you intended from the beginning. Amen.
Word
“…they were talking with each other about all these things that had happened.” Luke 24:14
Meditation
Today’s meditation is by Megan Roegner.
I’ve always loved stories. I read all the time when I was a kid: in the car; on camping trips; under my school desk; and, notoriously, at Cardinals games. I became an English teacher because I love stories—what could be better than talking about books all day?
I was an imaginative child—playing in the backyard or racing my bike through the neighborhood, I could pretend like I was a character in a story: someone braver and stronger than myself. More beautiful, of course, and perhaps magical, too. As an adult, I’ve sometimes tried to see myself as the protagonist of a novel or a TV show. What a boring show that would be! The characters in great stories are so much larger than life. I’m too reserved, too cautious. If I were in a show, I’d probably be a side character in some other, more interesting, person’s story.
Perhaps it’s the part of me that feels cast as an “extra” and not the star that draws me to the two men walking on the road to Emmaus. We don’t know anything about these guys, except that one of them is named Cleopas. They are not among the Twelve, the names that we associate with followers of Jesus. Yet, followers of Jesus they are. We may not know them, but Jesus does.
As the men are walking to Emmaus they are telling each other the story that they have just witnessed—a story that they feel hasn’t concluded properly. They had hoped that Jesus “was the one to redeem Israel,” but he has died and all that remains are rumors of empty tombs and angels. When Jesus appears and walks with them, of course they don’t recognize him until “he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened.”
This episode seems to break the rules of good storytelling. We expect Jesus to appear to the big names, to Mary Magdalene and to Peter. Why introduce some relative nobodies in the denouement? As a fellow relative nobody, what I see in this passage is two men who were still part of the story, even if most of what they saw and did is lost to time. And they weren’t nobodies to Jesus, who knows them just like he knows the “big names” and chose them to be witnesses of his resurrection.
In the end, we’re all characters in someone else’s story. But what a story! We may not all be brave or bold or beautiful, yet we have our parts to play.
The story continues…
Jesus, thank you for making me a part of your story. Help me to see the different parts of my life as vocations in which I can be a witness and share your love. Amen.
Benediction
Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!
For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.
(Rom. 11:33,36))