Blog
Recognition
On that same day, two disciples were going to a village called Emmaus and talking with each other about all that had happened. While they were discussing these events, Jesus came and walked with them, but they didn’t recognize him. He asked what they were discussing, and the disciples stopped for a moment, looking sad – Luke 24:13-17 (adapted)
On the same day that Mary, Joanna, another Mary, and several other women went together to Jesus’s tomb, two disciples left Jerusalem and headed to Emmaus. On the same day that the women didn’t recognize the angels, the two disciples didn’t recognize Jesus.
Grief has a peculiar way of twisting perception.
So does disappointment.
To believe fervently in the divine anointing of a leader, to follow him and learn from him and feel empowered by him, to believe “This is it!” and throw yourself into a movement, only to have the leader publicly destroyed and the community scattered … it takes the breath out of your spirit. It cuts deeply into your identity, spoils your appetite for possibility. It yanks you so far into yourself that any external awareness is muted, even distorted.
Friends look like strangers when you feel isolated by grief.
Strangers look like enemies when you’re displaced by the unexpected.
You feel like a caricature of yourself, unable to recognize God through the fog of self-doubt and shame.
It’s not uncommon to lose sight of others when you’re going through it. Too often I have not recognized and appreciated a beloved child of God in front of me when I’m disoriented by anxiety. Mary, Joanna, the other Mary, the disciples … their hearts were so focused on grief that they momentarily didn’t recognize joy.
Thank God that didn’t stop Jesus from showing up. Thank God, it still doesn’t.
Prayer: Risen Jesus, forgive my tunnel vision of fear. Living Jesus, do not abandon me when I get lost in my own head and heart.
cross-posted with the Daily Devotional
Before I Go through the Gate
Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord. – Psalm 118:19 (NRSV)
I did not grow up in a “come forward” church. Our weekly worship did not include a routine in which people came from their seats to the front of the sanctuary for a specific liturgical purpose. We stood up and sat down at the appropriate moments, but we weren’t drawn forward—not for prayers, not for an altar call, and only on special occasions for communion. The children ran forward to the pulpit steps for the children’s sermon, but adults stayed put through the service.
We did, however, go forward from our pews to the altar during Ash Wednesday services to receive the smudge of a cross on our foreheads. Consequently, my physical memory of going forward in worship is tied to stillness, quietness, a bowed head, a humble posture. Dust to dust.
All of which I share to give context to the following:
I subconsciously recoil at Psalm 118’s suggestion of bounding forward into God’s space with shouts of joy and loud thanksgivings. Such unreserved exuberance: “Open the gates! Here I come!” Such triumphant relief: “I made it! God brought me here!” Head up. Shoulders back. Smile wide. All together an unfamiliar posture for me in worship.
I just want to tuck myself somewhere along the outside wall of the gate—away from the celebratory chaos of those entering—to lean my head back against the wall’s cool surface, let my weary feet rest in the soft grass, and whisper my thanks that these ashes of mine still have breath. I’m not quite ready to sing or dance or fling my arms as wide and free as the gates, but I’ll be grateful to those in the Palm Sunday parade who do, whose loud praises echo the sighs of my glad heart.
Prayer: Let the gates of joy remain open for a long while, O Gracious God, so that even the weary ones and the shy souls might have a chance to enter.
cross-posted with the Daily Devotional (a ucc.org publication)
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