Hi there
Right now, I am sitting with the deep disappointment and soul-exhaustion of the UK government’s announcement that they will be taking away benefits from a million disabled people, and generally making an already-difficult life more difficult. This will push people in poverty into further destitution and will endanger the lives of many.
I am not here to talk the injustice of it today; my soul is grieving, exhausted from the ongoing fight, and overcome with anxiety, both for myself and others.
‘Gutted’ is the uniquely British word for what I feel, meaning deep disappointment, but also conveying what it feels like in your body – like someone has cut you open and emptied your insides out onto the ground.
I don’t know what is making you feel gutted at the moment, but there is plenty to choose from, whether personal tragedy or global.
Here’s the consolation I am reaching for at this time.
But we had hoped
I read through Luke 24 today, the story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, seven miles away from Jerusalem, just after Jesus had died. We traditionally imagine two male followers of Jesus, but writers such as Amy Robinson have suggested that as one of them is Cleopas, and the wife of Cleopas is named as a Mary in John 19:25, that it is more likely to be Cleopas and his wife walking desolate together, back home after the events in Jerusalem.
A figure walks alongside them to ask what they’re discussing, and they talk about all the bad news: this great leader and prophet was defeated by evil and violent people, and he was cruelly killed in the worst way.
“But we had hoped,” [they said], “that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.” (v. 21)
That one phrase ‘but we had hoped’ stands out to me as one of the most tragic phrases anyone can utter in life.
But we had hoped…
That she would be healed.
That change would come.
That the ruling would be fair.
That someone would notice.
That we would get that job.
That there would be consequences for the abuse.
That someone could bring justice.
That my son would get help.
That the new leaders would be better.
That this wouldn’t happen to me – again.
That things were improving at last.
But they did not see Jesus
The two are talking at the time that Jesus has died, but not been seen resurrected. All they can say is that the body was missing and the tomb was empty. One group of disciples, ‘the women’, had seen a vision of angels at least, but another group of disciples went where they had been, and did not see Jesus.
“Then some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they did not see Jesus.” (v. 24)
This, too, is one of the most devastating and lonely experiences a Christian can have at times of desolation. While others are going through difficulty but seeing visions of angels, you don’t have that experience. You can’t see Jesus. God feels absent, cold, even callous, in the face of unanswered prayer.
Disaster has come, and you cannot see Jesus in it. You just feel alone.
Burning Hearts and Broken Bread
If either of those ‘but’ statements is resonating with you, then remember this: Jesus was walking beside them all the time, though they didn’t recognise him.
“Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” (v. 32)
They realised that Jesus had been with them only when he broke bread and their eyes were opened (v. 30-31)
That is where I am finding consolation, right now, in the midst of disappointment, confusion and sorrow:
That Jesus is walking next to me, whether I recognise him or not.
That there is resurrection after death, though all I may see is an empty tomb.
Prayer
I invite you to do this prayer exercise:
Lament:
This part is predominantly about material, concrete situations. Write or state your personal longings to God, starting with the phrase,
‘Lord, I believe you are good. But I had hoped that…[fill in your own longings] and instead, [describe your own situation]. ’
This part is predominantly about spiritual disappointment. Write or state,
‘I feel [fill in your feelings], and I see [describe the situation you’re talking about], but I don’t see Jesus.’
As you pray it, notice what you feel, and how that shapes the prayer. Is it a prayer for clarity? Is it an angry shout to God? Is it asking for God’s presence?
Meditate:
You might want to spend a moment picturing Jesus beside you, unseen, just as he was there for the Emmaus couple.
You might want to get some bread, breaking it, as though Jesus is eating with you.
Pray:
A prayer of request:
Jesus, walk alongside me, please, and let me know you are there. Share my load. Take my tears. May my heart burn with your words and truth, I pray. Amen.
Over to you:
What are you gutted about?
How does this passage (Luke 24:13–35) speak to you today?
Thanks for this reflection and remembrance of the road to Emmaeus. I live in Canada and grieve for my daughter who struggles with a chronic health condition preventing her from having the life most young adults have.
I had hoped that a cruel fascist regime would not take over my country (US) Sorry you are experiencing cruelty as well. Thank you for this meditation...