Luke 24:13-35 And, behold, two of them went that same day to a village called Emmaus, which was from Jerusalem about three score furlongs.… We naturally inquire, why did He ask this question? Not for His own sake, certainly. He not only knew, but was Himself the very subject of the narrative which He would obtain from their lips. "What things?" He asks. I. Notice, first of all, the important circumstance that HE CALLS THEIR ATTENTION TO FACTS. It is an important circumstance. In the world, fact is our master; the truth is, after all, that which we need, and which controls us. No alchemy of logic, no splendour of fancy, can dissolve this. A man may live in an ideal world while he dreams, but waking brings him to solid earth, and to the slow and real steps of daily life. The ultimate question for us, with reference to everything that demands our allegiance or assent, is this: Is it fact? Christianity must submit to this test, as all other things. Men fancy that it does not meet the requirement. The impression is widely prevalent. We may not stop to enumerate all the circumstances that lead to this impression, and yet a few may be referred to. First of all, those circumstances that have existed in connection with widely-spread revivals of religion have impressed upon the minds of many critical observers the conclusion that Christianity is all a romance, a dream. It may be impossible, by any mere human criteria, to discriminate between that which is passional and earthly and that which is the work of the Spirit. God knoweth His own. It is not necessary for me to know whether my neighbour be a Christian; it is necessary for me to know that I am in communion with God. I am not bound to anatomize, dissect, and understand the working of his heart. I must deal with my own heart. A second circumstance that leads to this impression is the wide disparity between the profession of Christians and the manifestation of the power of the gospel in their lives. They cannot probe nor understand hidden life. Christianity seems unreal to them, because it is still and unobtrusive. A third cause of the impression is the persistent and earnest efforts, often reiterated, and especially prominent in our day, to do away with the historic basis of Christianity, and to construct a God out of human consciousness. They tell us that Christianity, after all, is only the religion of nature: it found a temporary manifestation here; but it existed before, and exists now, without revelation. That it is, indeed, the religion which nature demands, the outcry of the soul among all nations, civilized and barbaric, affirms; but that it is the religion that nature offers, the agony of the crucified, and the wail of the philosopher in the early ages, and the burden of those who in heathenism to-day cry out for light and confess their despair, all these deny. And yet we have those who placidly tell us that "religion is storax, and chlorine, and rosemary; a mountain air, and the silent song of the stars is it." A "mountain air," indeed, is such religion — very thin and very cold, where men soon gasp and die. Not thus did Christ and His apostles deal with the historic facts of Christianity. Here, you observe, He appeals to certain "things," upon the reality of which all His further dealings with these men, and all their hopes, are based. If these "things" have not occurred — if these "things" are not brought back vividly to their memory — if upon these "things" and their actuality He cannot build His subsequent words, they are deluded and defrauded, and their hopes are vain. The Gospels themselves are a compend of almost naked facts. Men now, as well as then, have to deal with concrete actualities in Christianity and its attendant evidences. Let me refer to two or three. You remember that famous answer to the king who demanded a visible miracle: "Your Majesty — the Jews." They are an anomaly, a perpetual miracle among the nations. Living in every country, yet having no country; intermixed in trade, yet not in blood, with other nations; preserving their distinct identity; a people with a memory and a hope, who look longingly and passionately back to empty Jerusalem, and claim it still as their own, though for hundreds of years they have been only permitted to touch the precious stones of the foundation of their temple. How shall we explain their presence in the world? How are we to account for the circumstances which environ them? I see upon them the brand of blood, and I remember how, at the transaction in Jerusalem, they said, "His blood be upon us." If this Bible gives the true history of the Jews, their condition is explained; if not, no theorist, no philosopher, no student of the science of history can explain it to me. I look to the Church of God — and, that I may be more specific, to a single Church — not to the Church universal, whose outlines are not clearly visible. I look to a single Church, as an existing institution, as a fact in the community. I put it alongside of earthly institutions — of those various organizations which men have framed for benevolent, social, and literary purposes. I point to the perpetuity of the individual Church. I come to individuals. It is sufficient if there be a single man who realizes, in any considerable degree, that which the gospel promises concerning the restoration of man to ideal perfectness. Read over that wonderful catalogue which Paul gives us of the Christian virtues, in the thirteenth chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians. Think of a man who is wise, and patient, and pure, and long-suffering, and charitable, and unenvious, and hopeful, and truthful — all the virtues that you can catalogue. But he tells you all this is built upon his companionship with Christ — upon the power of faith in actual redemption through Christ. Is not such a case a fact in life, and has not such a fact come within your reach? But take another case. Let it be a woman, who, in her early womanhood, has given her heart, full of overflowing affection, to the one she trusted as her husband. He has deceived her. The world has dealt coldly with her. She has no longer a home or a husband, and her children look despair into her eyes as she turns to them. Yet there is a Book she clings to, and a sacred place of comfort; and the heart does not burst with agony. Alone! She declares she is not alone. That which no human sympathy could give — that which no human wisdom could teach — has been given and taught; strength has been put into that dismayed soul that makes her master of herself and of the world, notwithstanding its crushing power. Is not this a fact? And now I insist that these facts of which I have spoken have no significance, except they relate back to the facts to which these two men referred. The Lord's Supper, celebrated month by month, would have no explanation in facts, and no meaning as a ceremony, if it had not been an uninterrupted and perpetual memorial of an event that transpired. The Church has no foundation, if it be not founded on a real Christ and His authentic work among men. You will find that this monument of fact in the world rests upon Calvary; and Calvary itself thrusts its deep roots down to the earlier world. A solid basis of history is given us, such as no other religion has. Christianity gives us a historic record from the foundation of the world; and the New Testament is knit upon the Old as the subsequent history of the Church is knit upon it. Now I say that, if it be not literal truth, as these men reiterated it, that Christ was crucified; if it be not a fact, as revealed to them, that Christ is risen; if this basis for our faith be swept away, then the Church is dissolved like the fabric of a vision. I look back through the centuries to Paul, and hear him say: "If Christ be not risen, your hope is vain; ye are yet in your sins." I hear the army of martyrs cry: "Our blood is spilt in vain." I hear Luther lifting up his voice, crying: "I have deceived the nations, declaring that the just shall live by faith." But, admitting the need that these facts should exist, why does He ask these men to recount them? Why does He bid them go back again over those painful, thorny steps which they have just trod, and view again those agonizing scenes, and recall the mournful words? Before we answer the question, let us ask another: Why did these facts, so momentous, influence so few? Why was not Palestine convulsed morally as well as physically by the mighty earthquake when Christ died? "What things?" And, first of all, I recognize the fact that He would fix their attention upon the events that have been transpiring. We must distinguish between the mere open eye upon which passing objects paint their unnoticed outline, and the observing eye. We must distinguish between things which are just seen and then dismissed, and those which are retained by voluntary effort. These men are about to dismiss the subject of their thoughts. He calls it back. "What things?" They have fallen into mere musing, mere droning over the past. He brings them back to active memory and active study again. I. In the second place, He asks them, "What things?" that, in recounting, they may PERCEIVE THE RELATIONS OF THE EVENTS NARRATED. This is the greater part of knowledge. The mere mob of motley transactions that are flowing before us in the world, cannot, as such, be of service to us. He who would learn from nature, must study the order of nature — must bind up like with like, and, study the dissimilarities of things that differ. He who will fairly study Christianity in the earth, must take the dominant facts of Christianity, and impartially weigh them in their relations. Christianity must be contrasted with error, in the whole breadth of each. Things that are alike must be noticed and marked out, as the algebraist strikes out, from the two sides of an equation, elements that correspond, retaining only those that differ. The accidental must be distinguished from the necessary, the formal from the essential; and so a broad and impartial vision must measure the outlines. Compare the godly man with the ungodly, and when you have sifted the two, and so reached radical character, how much is left in the godly man, and how much is left in the ungodly? These are the inquiries with which you have to do. In the history of Christianity as a force among nations — socially and governmentally — in the historic development of doctrine, and its bearings on life — in the history of individual Churches — it is the question for men fairly to consider: What are the facts, the residuary facts? So comes the "conclusion of the whole matter." These disciples had not forgotten, but remembered confusedly and in fragments. They must pass the whole in review, in broad vision see the relation of part with part, lest they lose the benefit of the lesson which has been given them. There are two difficulties in attempting fairly to weigh facts. One is, the disposition to prejudge — to test history by theory. These men had a theory. It was perfectly clear to them. God had not given it to them; intuition had not disclosed it; but they had concluded it — they were sure that, when the Messiah should come, He would be a triumphant Saviour; that He would march boldly into Jerusalem, lay His hand upon the sceptre and throne, and the Roman power dissolve before Him. This had not been. They had seen Him hang pale and lifeless upon the cross, and consigned to the tomb stark and dead. How could He be the Messiah? The matter was disposed of in their minds. A second difficulty that lay in their way is a common one. With half glimpses, and a confused idea of facts, they had begun "reasoning together." This is almost instinctive. Men get two facts of a ease, and presume a third; and, upon the two facts and a presumption, go to work to build a conclusion. Here is a surveyor who wishes to measure the height of yonder tree. He measures the base-line; he knows the tree is perpendicular, and so has a right-angle; now, he guesses at the angle from here to the top of the tree, and on these data seeks to find the height of the tree. Will he ever get it? Science offers to us two or three data; to these known, we add certain unknown quantities, counting them as also known, and so set off to map out the heavenly spaces. These men had a part only of the facts, and they had begun at once to draw general conclusions. There was a fairer way. They remembered Christ's words — they alluded to them. They remembered the event of the crucifixion, and that three days had transpired, and they had heard the words of the women, that He was gone from the tomb. Did they count this a mere vision of enthusiasts, who, by reason of their femininity, might be supposed to be peculiarly imaginative? Still, it was confirmed by their calmer brethren. So far as the testimony went, it was all in the direction of fulfilment of His word. It was no time to deny or surmise, but rather to hope and wait and watch. Philip said to Nathaniel, when he asked, "Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" "Come and see." So far as the facts you have seen go, do they point to the truth of Christianity? Do not pause at that point to argue, much less to deny, but, if you would have confirmation, "come and see." It is God's own method. Once more. It was NOT SUFFICIENT FOR THEM SIMPLY TO THINK OVER the facts — they must also SPEAK them. Now, this may at first seem strange to us; but consider how vital is the relation of human speech to the development of character, and to self-acquaintance. We see now the process by which Christ leads these men out of their bewilderment into perfect light. The facts were all accessible, but, though within reach, they were not grasped, and would soon have been swallowed up in forgetfulness. He calls up again these flitting forms and sets them in array; and beside them sets a prophecy uttered four hundred years before, and shows them how, item by item, it corresponds with these. He goes farther back, from Malachi to Isaiah, and from Isaiah to David, and from David to Moses. He sets a torchlight on every hill, until their wondering eyes look back along the pathway to the gateway of Eden, and they see the glowing words, "The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head"; "It shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." They understand now the gigantic conflict which has transpired, and that from it the Messiah must come forth, "having trodden the wine-press alone," with garments blood-red, to lift His sceptre over a redeemed universe, His bruised heel upon the crushed head of the monster. Their hearts burn within them; they longed for the truth, and now, the truth being come to them, their hearts are aglow, and they constrain Him to abide with them. They have learned the lesson — their faith is confirmed. He is known to them, and vanishes from their sight. This method in the revelation of Himself to a soul, commends itself to reasonable men; proceeding from facts to conclusions — from the known to the unknown — from the natural to the supernatural. (Jesse B. Thomas, D. D.) Parallel Verses KJV: And, behold, two of them went that same day to a village called Emmaus, which was from Jerusalem about threescore furlongs. |
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