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Standing Tall With The Tall Guy 2

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Read The Story...

Read the story.

When life closes in, read the story. When someone you trusted repays you with dishonesty.

When searing yesterdays stall soaring todays.

When you’ve been knocked off the mountaintop and climbing back up seems hopeless.

You’re faced with a decision. What do you do with your disillusionment? What do you do with your broken heart? We’re not talking inconveniences or hassles. We’re not discussing long lines or red lights or a bad game of tennis. We’re talking heartbreak. What do you do with that heartbreak?

Read the story. That’s what Jesus did when He encountered two disillusioned followers on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus, a couple of days after His death.

Their world has tumbled in on them, just like yours. It’s obvious by the way they walk. Their feet shuffle, their heads hang, their shoulders droop. The seven miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus must feel like seventy.

As they walk they talk “about everything that had happened” (Luke 24:14). It’s not hard to imagine their words.

“Why did the people turn against Him?”

“He could have come down from the cross. Why didn’t He?”

“He just let Pilate push Him around.”

“What do we do now?”

As they walk, a stranger comes up behind them. It is Jesus, but they don’t recognize Him. Disappointment will do that to you. It will blind you to the very presence of God. Discouragement turns our eyes inward. God could be walking next to us, but despair clouds our vision.

Despair does something else. Not only does it cloud our vision, it hardens our hearts. We get cynical. We get callused. And when good news comes, we don’t want to accept it for fear of being disappointed again. That’s what happened to those two people.

Later on they say these words:

And today some women among us amazed us. Early this morning they went to the tomb, but they did not find his body there. They came and told us that they had seen a vision of angels who said that Jesus was alive! So some of our group went to the tomb too. They found it just as the women said, but they did not see Jesus (Luke 24:22-24).

When reading Scripture we can’t always tell in what tone the words were spoken. Sometimes we don’t know if the speaker means to be jubilant or sad or peaceful. This time, however, there is no question about what they’re thinking: As if it’s not bad enough that Jesus was killed, now some grave robber has taken the body and duped some of our friends.

These two followers aren’t about to believe the women. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Cleopas and his friend are putting their hearts in a shell. They won’t take another risk. They won’t be hurt again.

Common reaction — isn’t it? Been hurt by love? Then don’t love. Had a promise violated? Then don’t trust. Had your heart broken? Then don’t give it away. Do like P.T. Barnum. Settle the score by blaming the world and hardening your heart.

There is a line, a fine line, which once crossed can be fatal. It’s the line between disappointment and anger. Between hurt and hate, between bitterness and blame. If you are nearing that, let me urge you, don’t cross it. Step back and ask this question: How long am I going to go on nursing my hurt?

At some point you have to move on. At some point you have to heal. At some point you have to let Jesus do for you what He did for those men.

Know what He did? First of all, He came to them. I know we’ve already mentioned that, but it’s worth repeating. He didn’t sit back and cross His arms and say, “Why can’t those two get on with the program?” He didn’t complain to the angel and say, “Why won’t they believe the empty tomb? Why are they so hard to please?”

What did He do? He met them at their point of pain. Though death has been destroyed and sin annulled, He has not retired. The resurrected Lord has once again wrapped Himself in Human flesh, put on Human clothes, and searched out hurting hearts.

Read carefully their words and see if you can find their hurt: Jesus said to them, “What are you talking about?” They said, “About Jesus of Nazareth. He was a prophet who said and did many things before God and all the people. Our leaders and the leading priests handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. But we were hoping that he would free Israel” (Luke 24:19-21).

There it is. “But we were hoping….” The disciples had hoped Jesus would free Israel. They had hoped He’d kick out the Romans. They’d hoped Pilate would be out and Jesus would be in. But Pilate was still in, and Jesus was dead.

Unfulfilled expectations. God didn’t do what they wanted Him to do.

They knew what they expected of Jesus. They knew what He was supposed to do. They didn’t have to ask Him. If Jesus is the Messiah, He won’t sleep in my storm. He won’t defy tradition. He’ll do what He is supposed to do.

But that’s not what He did. And aren’t we glad? Aren’t we glad the prayer of Cleopas and his friend went unanswered? Aren’t we glad God didn’t adjust His agenda to fulfill the requests of those two disciples?

They were good disciples. With good hearts. And sincere hearts. They just had the wrong expectations.

When my oldest daughter was about six years old, she and I were having a discussion about my work. It seems she wasn’t too happy with my chosen profession. She wanted me to leave the ministry. “I like you as a preacher,” she explained. “I just really wish you sold snow cones.”

An honest request from a pure heart. It made sense to her that the happiest people in the world were the men who drove the snow-cone trucks. You play music. You sell goodies. You make kids happy. What more could you want? (Come to think about it, she may have a point. I could get a loan, buy a truck, and…Naw, I’d eat too much.)

I heard her request, but didn’t heed it. Why? Because I knew better. I know what I’m called to do and what I need to do. The fact is I know more about life than she does.

And the point is, God knows more about life than we do.

People wanted Him to redeem Israel, but He knew better. He would rather His people be temporarily oppressed than eternally lost. When forced to choose between battling Pilate and battling Satan, He chose the battle we couldn’t win. He said no to what we wanted and yes to what we needed. He said no to a liberated Israel and yes to a liberated humanity.

And once again, aren’t we glad He did? And aren’t we glad He does?

Now be honest. Are we glad He says no to what we want and yes to what we need? Not always. If we ask for a new marriage, and He says honor the current one, we aren’t happy. If we ask for healing, and He says learn through the pain, we aren’t happy. If we ask for more money, and He says treasure the unseen, we aren’t always happy.

When God doesn’t do what we want, it’s not easy. Never has been. Never will be. But faith is the conviction that God knows more than we do about this life and He will get us through it.

Remember, disappointment is cured by revamped expectations.

I like the story about the fellow who went to the pet store in search of a singing parakeet. Seems he was a bachelor and his house was too quiet. The store owner had just the bird for him, so the man bought it.

The next day the bachelor came home to a house full of music. He went to the cage to feed the bird and noticed for the first time that the parakeet had only one leg.

He felt cheated that he’d been sold a one-legged bird, so he called and complained.

“What do you want,” the store owner responded, “a bird who can sing or a bird who can dance?

Good question for times of disappointment. What do we want? That’s what Jesus asked the disciples. What do you want? Do you want temporary freedom — or eternal freedom? Jesus went about the task of restructuring their expectations.

You know what He did? He told them the story. Not just any story. He told them the story of God and God’s plan for people. Then starting with what Moses and all the prophets had said about him, Jesus began to explain everything that had been written about Himself in the Scriptures (Luke 24:27).

Fascinating. Jesus’ cure for the broken heart is the story of God. He started with Moses and finished with Himself. Why did He do that? Why did He retell the ancient tale? Why did He go all they way back two thousand years to the story of Moses? I think I know the reason. I know because what they heard is what we all need to hear when we are disappointed.

We need to hear that God is still in control. We need to hear that it’s not over until He says so. We need to hear that life’s mishaps and tragedies are not a reason to sit tight.

Corrie Ten Boom used to say, “When the train goes through a dark tunnel and the world gets dark, do you jump out? Of course not. You sit still and trust the engineer to get you through.”

Why did Jesus tell the story? So we’d know the engineer still controls the train.

The way to deal with discouragement? The cure for disappointment? Go back to the story. Read it again and again. Be reminded that you aren’t the first person to weep. And you aren’t the first person to be helped.

Read the story and remember, their story is yours!

The challenge too great? Read the story. That’s you crossing the Red Sea with Moses.

Too many worries? Read the story. That’s you receiving heavenly food with the Israelites.

Your wounds too deep? Read the story. That’s you, Joseph, forgiving your brothers for betraying you.

Your enemies too mighty? Read the story. That’s you marching with Jehoshaphat into a battle already won.

Your disappointments too heavy? Read the story of the Emmaus-bound disciples. The Savior they thought was dead now walked beside them. He entered their house and sat at their table. And something happened in their hearts. It felt like a fire burning in us when Jesus talked to us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us (vs. 31).

Next time you’re disappointed, don’t panic. Don’t bail out. Don’t give up. Just be patient. Return to the Word and let God remind you He’s still in control.

Read the story!

In the Word with Max Lucado Published by Word Publishing ©1994 by Max Lucado

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