Sunday, April 19, 2026

Sermon from 4/19/26 "Foolish and Slow of Heart"

  Luke 24:13-35

          I once had a preaching professor say that you can tell a lot about what’s going on with a pastor by the sermons they preach. And a mentor of mine once shared that he found that to be very true for him. He said he didn’t realize it at the time, but when he looked back over years of sermons, he could clearly see what struggles he was facing or what was going on in his life. So … what does today’s sermon title say about me? And why, when I looked at the scriptures to come up with sermon titles for the newsletter, was that the verse that stood out to me “Foolish and Slow of Heart?” Perhaps I have inadvertently revealed to you that behind the robes and title is indeed someone who, like those disciples walking along the road right next to Jesus -is in fact foolish and slow of heart.

           But as I spent time meditating on this scripture for today, I found that when I quieted my mind, slowed my breathing and steadied my soul, it was a different phrase from the lesson I kept hearing in my heart. It was verse 29. This is after the disciples have been walking with this “stranger” for quite a while, and he has been explaining the scriptures to them. The disciples say, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” I love that image of this beautiful, powerful, eye-opening walk at dusk, about to come to an end and the disciples say, “don’t go!”

          This particular verse is part of many traditional prayers said by the church in various forms, but one that came to mind for me is towards the end of the Evening Prayer liturgy in the Book of Common Prayer which is the worship book for the Episcopal Church, and the book where our Methodist service structures and liturgies comes from. There are set prayers for each part of the day, and evening prayer is for that time of day right about when Jesus is about to part ways with the disciples and they ask him to stay. As the daylight begins to fade into dusk, your body begins to long to settle in at home, your feet are tired and thoughts of the day to come may begin to take over your mind. Right at that time is this prayer, “Lord Jesus, stay with us, for evening is at hand and the day is past; be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts, and awaken hope, that we may know you as you are revealed in Scripture and the breaking of the bread. Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen.” As the night begins to approach, we look to Jesus, walking along the way with us and say “don’t go, please stay, come on inside and stay here with us.”

           I feel that in my soul. I think of times when I was about to do something scary or face something hard and I would pray “please stay with my Jesus.” I pray this before I begin my work at the hospital, not knowing what difficult situations I may face, feeling small and ill-equipped, I pray “stay with me Jesus.” Every time I open my mouth to preach, hearing the silence before my words break it, feeling the potential impact for good or for bad of words, I pray “please don’t leave me Jesus.”

 It reminds me of that hymn in our hymnals that says, “I need thee every hour, in joy or pain; come quickly and abide, or life is in vain. I need thee, O I need thee; every hour I need thee; O bless me now, my Savior, I come to thee.” I hear these words from hospital rooms, funeral parlors, friends facing indecision, family members struggling with fear, and people everywhere in joy or in pain praying “Don’t go Jesus, please stay … I need thee.”

I thought of this moment between Jesus and the disciples last week. We spent Spring break in Ohio, where both my husband and I are from. We have family in different parts of the state and after we met in seminary in New Jersey, we headed back there where I served my first two appointments as a pastor. We lived in Toledo for 7 years and that was where we bought our first house, had our babies and made wonderful friends. It has been 10 years since we lived there and yet, when we went back last week I felt very much at home. Our first night there we invited some dear friends over and it felt so good to just “be.” Not trying to make a good first impression, not trying to remember how to get home in a new place, not trying to figure out a school system or new jobs. It was one of those times when you can let your guard down because the people you are with have already seen you cry and get mad and be weird and they still love you. As the day came to a close, evening set in and bed times for the kids neared, it was time to give hugs and say goodbye. I smiled and waved, but in my heart I felt those words “don’t go, please stay.” That longing to stay in that peaceful place of connection and ease and love and comfort. But we have moved enough now to know sometimes you have to say goodbye and keep going even when your heart hurts.

 And in this passage today, the disciples’ hearts hurt. They had walked many miles with Jesus, and he loved them and they loved him. And now he was gone. They saw him die and they hadn’t yet figured out what the empty tomb meant or if it was even true that it was empty. They had walked many miles with Jesus, and now they walked alone, trying to process everything they had just seen and heard and experienced. The scripture says when Jesus asks what they are talking about “they stood still, looking sad.” Their hearts hurt from the goodbye they just experienced. Many times in the Gospel story we hear the disciples saying to Jesus in various ways, “please stop talking about the death stuff and just stay with us, don’t go.” Like during the Transfiguration when they want to make tents and just keep everyone there in that beautiful moment. But he goes and he dies and they are alone, trying to keep going, keep moving,

 And so they have this amazing conversation where this stranger explains the scriptures and everything Jesus had been trying to tell them and their hearts are burning and their faith is becoming reignited and then … he keeps walking ahead. So they say “please stay, don’t go.” And he doesn’t go, he stays. He stays and when Jesus takes the bread, blesses it and breaks it … they see. Their eyes are opened.

 After that he “vanishes” but … now they know … now we the reader know … he hasn’t left us and this is how we experience Jesus in the world after his death and resurrection. He is hiding as a stranger, in the other, in the people we encounter along our journey in this life and he is in the acts we do together as a community of believers. And when we realize we are in the presence of Christ, he is in our burning hearts. Things may not be the same as they were, but he didn’t leave them, he didn’t leave us. He is very present in and through and around us.

 It’s easy to find all the places where we don’t see Jesus. The pain, the suffering, the fear, the heartache, but when our foolish and slow of heart selves can open our eyes, we see that Jesus keeps showing up again and again. He stays, he does not abandon us.

I was talking with this woman some time ago, she was over 70 years old and she was telling me about her mama. She told me how beautiful she was, how she made her feel so loved, how she told her she was special, how she gave her wonderful memories. I was surprised when she said her mom died before she was even 10 and it was devastating for her and she missed her even after all these years, but she looked at me and said “I am so grateful that I got to have her as my mama.” I was moved by those words of gratitude. I was in awe of her ability to smile and feel the joy of having been loved so deeply even after experiencing pain so deeply. There were many things in her life that she could point to as struggle or as the absence of Christ, but her heart was still burning from that deep love she experienced, a love that never left her and all she could feel was gratitude.

The truth is … I am foolish and slow of heart. I keep asking God to stay and not leave, even though again and again I keep realizing that God is all around me and always shows up. In each moment of fear or worry or defeat I say “don’t leave me, please stay” failing to see that Jesus is right next to me the whole time.

I thought of this at the end of Spring Break as we made our way back onto the turnpike and headed across Pennsylvania and New York to here our home for the last two years. I was sad to say goodbye to so many people we love but also remembered how every time we have moved I have met Jesus in the people who started out as strangers and in the communities where I have worshipped. I see the presence of the risen Christ again and again even in unknown places and in uncertain circumstances. God keeps showing up, even when I feel lost in a new place. Even when I am foolish and slow of heart. I am grateful that my foolishness is not a barrier for God, that Jesus can still break into our hearts, just as he broke through a tomb and walls and the hearts of foolish disciples.

         


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