19 April 2026 Third Sunday of Easter

Acts 2.14a;.36-41   Psalm 116.1-4; 11-18   1 Peter 1.13-25   Luke 24.13-35

Only Luke tells the story we hear today in our gospel.   How often have you found yourself walking and realised you are not really ‘seeing’ the things around you.  Being a ‘destination’ type of person, this happens to me often.  I have to ‘think about’ what I am doing, I have to consciously ‘see’ and ‘notice’ what is around me because my brain tells me ‘the journey is only relevant to get to your destination’.  And that is a problem.  But maybe that was what was happening in this story Luke tells us.  Yes, these two travellers are clearly distressed by what they have seen and heard over the past few days.  They ‘thought’ they were ‘on a winner’ but now that confidence is rocked, and they don’t know what to do with the information ‘the women’ have shared this morning, that the tomb is empty, that ‘an angel’ has told them Jesus is ‘risen’.  And what does that mean anyway.

There are four words, in the middle of this story that are perhaps the most heartbreaking and realistic in Scripture: “But we had hoped….”

These four words speak volumes, they speak of a future that now will not be; they speak of a dream that created energy and enthusiasm but failed to materialise; they speak of a promise that created faith that turned out to be false; they speak of a future that is now closed off, irrelevant and dead.  And there are few things more tragic than a dead future.  Ernest Hemingway was, apparently, once challenged to write a short story in six words – he wrote on a napkin ‘for sale, baby shoes, never used’.  It is not just the tragedy that hurts, it is the gaping hole that contains all that could have been, could have occurred, but now won’t.

And the thing is, those words ‘but we had hoped’ probably ring as true for you as they do me.  So many things we ‘planned’ or ‘expected’ that suddenly, or gradually, do not come true or occur.  The itinerary for the holiday Robert and I are having in a couple of weeks was based around us being there to watch our 13yr old grandson play in an international soccer competition.  Because of what is occurring in the Middle East and the fact their plane was travelling through that area, his team is now not going this year.  It is not as dramatic as what these two travellers are feeling but, we had hoped to see him play in this important event, and they had hoped to have an exciting trip overseas to play in a competition.

Being a ‘glass half full’ type of person, I tend to look at the positives in life, the things we celebrate, the joys we have, the successes we see, and don’t really like thinking about the other side of the coin.  No matter what is happening, I try, as much as is possible, to ‘flip it’ to see the positives in it rather than the negatives.  But this statement speaks loudly about that other side of the coin.  The side that shows what didn’t or can’t happen, what we tried, and failed, to achieve.  And sometimes, as Christians, we tend it ignore that side because we think we are, or at least should be, ‘hard wired’ to be glass half full rather than a half empty type of persons.

Especially if you know this story well, when we look at this reading we may be tempted to ‘gloss over’ the angst and questioning and rush to the ‘burning hearts’ part, and the celebrating with the disciples of their encounter with the Risen Christ.  But in the same way as before we can have resurrection we have to have crucifixion, before there can be burning hearts there needs to be broken and questioning ones.

When Jesus joins these two on this Emmaus road, he walks quietly with them and invites them to ‘tell their story’, he asks them what they are talking about, he silently listens to their grief, their disappointment, their disillusionment, but he does not interrupt or correct them.  And when they have finished telling their story, he then tells them ‘his story’, opening up Scripture for them to see the reality of the story they have misinterpreted and how history was always telling them that all that had happened would always happen.  When Jesus tells the story, the hearts of those hearing it burn.

So the question for us today is, can we be the place that welcomes broken hearts?  And it sounds easier than it is.  Because we need to recognise that part and parcel of being human is being broken.  The risen Christ appears to these broken disciples, and to us, and walks with us on the road we are travelling, stunned that we don’t see as we ought, teaching us the Scriptures so that we can understand, sharing his presence through bread and wine and granting burning hearts that prompt us back into the world.

But all that starts with broken hearts.  Can we be ready to open the door so that others may feel invited and allowed to ‘tell their story’, to share their disappointment that the medical treatment didn’t work, that their life trajectory is taking a sharp turn in directions not expected, that family relationships are not easy or pleasant, that …..  The broken hearted only need to be invited and given permission to grieve a future that will not be, so that they may possibly hear and receive the future God has created and prepared for them – when they are ready to hear it – and as they are able.

Let us be that welcoming space.  May we invite the broken hearted to ‘tell their story’, to grieve their pain, and then, when they are ready, may we be able to share with them the future God has for all of us.