Two of them that same day were making their way to Emmaus,
seven miles distant from Jerusalem,
discussing as they went all that had happened.
On our last day in Israel, we arrived at the airport in Tel Aviv late Monday night. Tired as I was, my brain seemed to be in overdrive as images from the past eight days swirled about in my memory. I pulled my now-ragged itinerary from my purse in a vain attempt to organize my thoughts. I’d met so many wonderful people and revisited so many amazing sights along the way. I wondered how I could possibly process all of this…
After Jesus died, those who were unaware returned to their villages and homes to resume their lives after Passover. Some of those who knew Jesus had to do the same. Any hope they had in a change for the better died with their teacher. So it was that they returned to life before Jesus. Jesus’ closest friends suffered nearby as they huddled in uncertainty and fear. Those who remained near the cross until the end and then saw to his burial worried little about themselves. Those who had deserted Jesus and denied him wallowed in the fear which kept them from standing by their dying friend.
The men who returned to Emmaus struggled with their memories as well. Their thoughts likely swirled in their heads as mine had while I sat in the airport. In my case, I knew the end of the story and the hope for us all that has followed. These poor fellows knew none of this. They walked in disappointed misery until a stranger joined them along the way…
Loving God, be with me when I swim in uncertainty without direction. Be with me as I struggle to respond to your presence in my life.
©2018 Mary Penich – All Rights Reserved