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There is a specific kind of pain the Bible names only once, and most sermons walk past it.
It is the pain of a hope that has actually died. Not deferred. Not delayed. Died. The prayer you have finally given up on. The situation you have accepted will never resolve. The version of the future you were carrying for years, that you have quietly put down and moved on from.
The disciples on the road to Emmaus knew that kind of pain, and they said it out loud.
This week's theme: Hope.
Today, the hard truth. What Jesus did with two men whose hope had died on a Friday afternoon.
EMMAUS
It was Sunday.
Two of Jesus's followers were walking away from Jerusalem, heading to a village called Emmaus. Seven miles from the city. Enough distance to think. They were talking about everything that had happened, and their faces, Luke tells us, were downcast.
A stranger joined them on the road. He asked what they were discussing. And one of them, a man named Cleopas, said something we should all sit with carefully.
"We had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.."
Read it slowly. Two words matter more than the rest.
Had hoped.
Past tense. The hope was over. It had been alive on Thursday. It had been alive on Friday morning. By Friday afternoon, when they watched Jesus die on the cross, it had died with him. They were walking home now with the wreckage of a hope they had held for years.
We had hoped he was the one. Past tense. The dream was dead.
If you have ever prayed a prayer for years and finally given up, you know that sentence. Whatever you would fill in the blank with. We had hoped for the child. We had hoped the marriage would recover. We had hoped this job would come through. We had hoped the diagnosis would be different. We had hoped he would come back to faith. We had hoped.
That is a specific pain, and it is not the same as a hope that is still alive. A hope that is still alive has heat in it. A hope that has died has weight. The weight of what you have finally accepted will not happen.
Cleopas and his companion were carrying that weight on the road to Emmaus.
Now watch what Jesus does.
He does not correct them for having given up. He does not lecture them for their lack of faith. He does not shame them for using the past tense. He walks with them. For seven miles, on a road, hearing their grief, meeting them exactly where they were, before he reveals himself.
They get to Emmaus. He acts as if he is going further. They urge him to stay. He sits at their table, breaks bread, and their eyes are opened. And they realise, in the split second before he vanishes, that the hope they had buried on Friday had been alive next to them the whole afternoon.
The dead hope had been resurrected before they even knew it needed to be.
Here is why this story is in the Bible.
There is a version of Christianity that would have you believe that if your hope has died, you have failed. That you should have held on longer. That the giving up was the sin. This story is the direct rebuke of that idea.
Jesus does not rebuke their past tense. He resurrects the thing they had buried, and reveals himself as the one who was walking with them the whole time they thought the story was over.
If you are carrying a hope that has died, this is the story for you today.
You are not the villain of your own faith journey for having put it down. Sometimes the honest thing is to acknowledge the past tense. Sometimes you have carried it as long as you can. That is not failure. That is being human.
The good news of Emmaus is not that you should not have let go. The good news is that Jesus specialises in showing up on the road after the letting go, and revealing that he was there the whole time. And that some hopes are not gone. They are just waiting for the moment your eyes are opened.
Your Emmaus road is not the end of the story.
YOUR ONE THING FOR TODAY
Name one hope you have quietly buried.
You are not being asked to resurrect it today. You are not being asked to force belief back into it. You are just being asked to acknowledge it honestly. The thing you had hoped for, that you put down.
Then say this, out loud if you can. "He is walking with me on this road too."
That is enough.
Father, I have said "we had hoped" more times than I would like to admit. Meet me on the road. Reveal yourself in the exact places I thought the story was over. Show me which hopes are truly finished, and which ones you are still holding, even though I let go. Amen.
WATCH THE NEW VIDEO
I just released a new video, which is the next part in the armor of God series over on my YouTube channel! Go give it a watch if you haven’t already, and if you have a moment to drop a like and/or comment on the video I’d really appreciate it as this helps push the video to a wider audience and spread the word of God!
OVER TO YOU
What is one hope you have said "we had hoped" about? A word or a line. Every reply held with care.
God bless you, my friend.
The LowKey Christian
P.S. my newest eBook ‘Known: Discovering Who God Says You Are’ is out now. Newsletter readers get an exclusive 50% off this product - just use discount code ‘Newsletter’ at checkout: https://thelowkeychristian.com/products/known-ebook