I meant to post this right after Easter, but life got a little busy for a while. I wrote this as a devotional for my church, and wanted to share it. As I walked away from Easter this year, it struck me how quickly we forget. Our entire faith depends on a magnificent event that we only specifically celebrate one day a year. Why leave Easter on Easter Sunday? So, I wrote these reflections on the men walking away from Jerusalem after Christ's death. Hopefully they can provide a little challenge or encouragement or something!
An Emmaus Walk: Luke 24:13-35
I’m sitting in the bus terminal in Santa Elena, Guatemala, writing by candlelight due to the consistent on again, off again power in this country. Traveling home after a weekend in Belize, I can’t help but reflect on the travelers I’ve encountered: Len and Carrie B, retirees from GR; Drew, a recently dumped Canadian nomad; Mike, a dreadlocked backpacker from Seattle.
Why do these people, our conversations, their stories, float through my brain when I should be grading English tests? I think it is because their story is my story, is our story.
There once were two men walking the road to Emmaus, mourning the loss of his supposed Savior. They were blind--they could not see that their companion was the Savior for whom they yearned. They were so entrenched in the walk and talk that they missed the story unfolding around them.
There once was a man named Moses who was so hung up on his speech impediment that he almost missed his chance to lead the Israelite’s from Egypt.
There once was a man named Saul who was so convinced of his righteousness that he murdered those bearing the truth.
There once was a woman named Annette who was so scared that she almost missed her call to give up some time teaching to minister with Young Life in Hinsdale, Illinois.
The storyline permeates history, it permeates our history. Which leaves some questions: Where are you walking? Who are you walking with? What’s keeping you from seeing the story that is daily unfolding around you and the Savior that is walking with you?
Pray that God will rip away the calluses from your heart, the blind spots from your eyes, so that your hearts may burn with the presence of Christ’s words in your life.
I’m sitting in the bus terminal in Santa Elena, Guatemala, writing by candlelight due to the consistent on again, off again power in this country. Traveling home after a weekend in Belize, I can’t help but reflect on the travelers I’ve encountered: Len and Carrie B, retirees from GR; Drew, a recently dumped Canadian nomad; Mike, a dreadlocked backpacker from Seattle.
Why do these people, our conversations, their stories, float through my brain when I should be grading English tests? I think it is because their story is my story, is our story.
There once were two men walking the road to Emmaus, mourning the loss of his supposed Savior. They were blind--they could not see that their companion was the Savior for whom they yearned. They were so entrenched in the walk and talk that they missed the story unfolding around them.
There once was a man named Moses who was so hung up on his speech impediment that he almost missed his chance to lead the Israelite’s from Egypt.
There once was a man named Saul who was so convinced of his righteousness that he murdered those bearing the truth.
There once was a woman named Annette who was so scared that she almost missed her call to give up some time teaching to minister with Young Life in Hinsdale, Illinois.
The storyline permeates history, it permeates our history. Which leaves some questions: Where are you walking? Who are you walking with? What’s keeping you from seeing the story that is daily unfolding around you and the Savior that is walking with you?
Pray that God will rip away the calluses from your heart, the blind spots from your eyes, so that your hearts may burn with the presence of Christ’s words in your life.
2 comments:
May I share your devotional? It so worth sharing with others. What a great reminder for us all.
Wow, what a reminder for me to look at my own life. Thanks Annette!
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