DR 19
December 19
Luke 24:13-24. The journey to Emmaus.
Towards the close of the joyful day which saw the Lord arise, two of the disciples were walking together, oppressed with sorrow. The name of one of these men was Cleopas. The name of his companion is not revealed. It does not seem probable that this Cleopas was the husband of that Mary who visited the sepulcher; for if he had been her husband, he must have known that she had seen the Lord; whereas we find that he only speaks of the women having seen angels, (ver. 23.) It is also to be remarked that he calls them merely "certain women of our company."
Cleopas and his friend were walking towards Emmaus. This village was nearly eight miles to the northwest of Jerusalem. The way there was mountainous, and in many places almost paved with rock. The gloomy scenery—the rugged path—the lonely way—the declining sun, must have accorded with the troubled state of the disciples' hearts. The risen Lord beheld these two friends as they walked sorrowfully along, and he came to pass the evening in their company. Though he well knew the subject of their conversation, he asked them this question,—"What manner of communications are these that you have one to another, as you walk and are sad?"
When we are conversing together, if the Lord were to draw near and to make this inquiry, should we always be willing to reply? Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. Worldly people never take pleasure in conversing about their souls, or Christ, or heaven. They delight in talking of the trifling vanities of time. But even true Christians are apt to forget unseen things, and to waste their precious hours in unprofitable discourse. But when they do converse upon spiritual subjects, they receive a blessing from the Lord. In times of affliction, especially, they should avoid the society of the ungodly. David when in trouble said, "I will keep my mouth with a bridle while the wicked is before me." (Ps. 39:1.) But they should open their hearts to each other. It was in a time of public calamity that the saints described by Malachi met together. "Then those who feared the Lord spoke often one to another, and the Lord hearkened and heard it." (Mal. 3:16.)
There must have been something exceedingly gracious in the manner in which Jesus addressed the mourning disciples; for, though they took him for a stranger, they readily opened their grief at his request. What a grief it was! They had lost their Lord. Yet they had not renounced him. They looked upon him still, not as a deceiver, but as a "prophet mighty in deed and in word, before God and all the people."
Their own negligence was the principal occasion of their grief. Though many had been to see the sepulcher, they had not. Had they gone they also might have seen angels, or at least they would have seen the linen clothes, and by them have been convinced that the Lord was risen. Then, instead of mourning together, they would have been rejoicing together. Christians are often unhappy only because they are negligent. They hear their brethren tell of joys which they themselves have never tasted, and they scarcely believe the report. But if they would use the same diligence in searching the Scriptures, and the same importunity in prayer as those happy brethren, they also would rejoice.