One Bite of the Elephant

"One Bite Of the Elephant"--May 3, 2017

"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. And he said to them, 'What are you discussing with each other while you  walk along?' They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, 'Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?' He asked them, 'What things?' They replied, 'The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they did not see him.' Then he said to them, 'Oh, how foolish you are and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?' Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures." [Luke 24:13-27]

You know the old chestnut, I'm sure: "How do you eat an elephant?  One bite at a time."

I think there should be a similar saying for the risen Jesus: How do you lead people out of the darkness of despair?  One conversation at a time.

There is something really lovely, and strangely calm, I think, about the post-Easter stories of Jesus' appearances to his followers.  The stories that come from that first Sunday morning are all hurried and frenzied--the frantic running to and from the tomb, the confusion in the darkness before dawn, the fear and joy all mingled together in a volatile cocktail, even earthquakes and angels.  But afterward, there are these recurring moments where the living Jesus shows up--just invites himself into locked rooms and closed conversations--and he finds people who are at the edge of despair... and patiently walks them out of their fears.

Just that by itself would be striking, miraculous, even: you would think that a resurrected Messiah would have a full to-do list without frequent check-ins to appear to his disciples, again and again and again.  You might think that being freed from the power of death also buys you a bit of "you-time" when you don't have to keep proving yourself to be alive.  But beyond that, the disciples Jesus keeps showing himself to seem particularly skeptical--and captive to their fears, to boot!

It's the ten disciples locked in their room, and Jesus points out his wounds to convince them. It's Thomas after that, who famously says he can't believe until he puts his hand in Jesus' side.  And now it's these two on the road to Emmaus, who, to be quite honest about it, are rather rude to the stranger-they-don't-recognize-as-Jesus when he starts to ask them about what's got them down. 

With each of these encounters, disciples with real, nagging doubts bring their difficult questions to Jesus. And with each of them, Jesus takes the questions.  He doesn't run.  He doesn't get flustered.  He doesn't punish his followers for the doubts, and he doesn't walk away just because they have asked him a tough question.  He may not be tickled pink that they haven't gotten it yet, or that they keep letting themselves be paralyzed by the fear, but he doesn't walk away or write them off.


And that, just that by itself, is a wonder.  Ours is an era when it is so much easier to just walk away when a conversation becomes difficult, or to shut down when someone asks you a question you don't like.  Ours is an era in which we tend to get defensive when someone is honest, truly honest, with us, and we start hearing questions as attacks.  But Jesus doesn't run.  Jesus doesn't get up and walk out on Thomas for having questioned, and he doesn't leave Cleopas and his companion in the dust because they don't get it yet, either--even though they freely admit that they have heard the news that the tomb was empty. Jesus doesn't shrug them off or wash his hands of these doubters.  He never once says, "I'm done with you."  Jesus doesn't leave them in their despair or fear--in patience and grace he walks them out of the dark like they are walking out of the tomb themselves.


And that is my hope, too--that Jesus never says, "I'm done with you, Steve," even when I am sure I must be testing Jesus' patience.  I know myself well enough to know that I am often the coward who keeps running back inside the locked room of the familiar, the fearful one afraid to speak up, the one who dares not believe news that sounds too good to be true.  I know that I often have a hard time living with my hands and heart like the news that I have heard in my head really is true.  I know that I need to keep being reminded... and having my eyes opened... and having my heart stretched.  And I know that if I were Jesus, I would likely have given up on me.


Thank God I ain't Jesus.


These stories, like this scene from the walk to Emmaus, they tell me that Jesus doesn't get upset or flustered when I get hung up in fear or doubt or darkness.  They tell me that Jesus doesn't say, "That's it--we're done here."  They tell me that Jesus will keep leading me out of those dark places, even when I am the one who has walked myself back into them.


And that gives me the courage--maybe just enough courage--to let him lead me out again of the tomb, and to take another step with him seeing the world in the light of a whole new creation.  One step at a time. One day a time.  One bite of the elephant at a time... that Jesus, he just doesn't give up on me. Or you.  Or any of us.


Lord Jesus, keep meeting us where we are... and keep pulling us out of the darkness, the fear, and the despair... and into your new day.