The story of the two people on the road to Emmaus has long served as a metaphor for our own faith journeys. In fact, I think it is the Methodist church that has a faith renewal weekend called The Road to Emmaus, similar to our Cursillo for adults or Happening for young adults. The story of the travelers on the road to Emmaus is a simple story really. Two of Jesus’ followers were walking along and talking about the events of the last few days, about the crucifixion and what had followed. These travelers were not part of Jesus’ inner circle; one of them is not even named. They might have even been a man and a woman. They were merely travelers, just as we are. Jesus appeared to them, but they did not recognize him. Maybe he was in the shadow, maybe the daylight was vanishing, maybe he looked different from what they expected. For whatever reason, they did not know that their risen Lord was walking with them. They told him, however, that a mighty prophet had been condemned and put to death on a cross. They told the stranger that they had had hopes that he was the Messiah. They related what the women had told them about the empty tomb. And Jesus spoke to them: “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Still they continued to the village, listening, as they went, to Jesus’ interpretation of scripture, beginning with Moses and going through the prophets. As they came near Emmaus, they asked him to stay with them; something he said must have touched them because they invited him into their home and allowed him to break the bread and bless it. Then, the gospel tells us, their eyes were opened. Then, they, like all of those who come to faith, moved from perception to recognition.

The move from perception to recognition is one that we, as Christians on our faith journeys, have experienced from that day to this. We move from perception to recognition when we move from an understanding of Jesus as the risen Lord to a true and personal recognition of Jesus as our lord and savior. Whether the breaking of bread in this story symbolizes the Eucharist or not is debated. For many, however, the movement to recognition does come in the moment of the Eucharist, in the holy mystery that evades logical explanation. This doesn’t mean that all our questions are answered or our problems solved. It does mean that we are fed and sustained by the one who suffered and died for us.

For those who come to Christ in the Eucharist and for others who find Christ in their own way, recognition often comes after great struggle. Most of us do not find Christ in a time of happiness or ease, but rather during or after a period of suffering. I talk to people who have suffered the loss of a loved one or who have endured the loss of a spouse through divorce or who have experienced the loss of a job. Some of these people tell me that they feel a new closeness to God, that they have come to Christ through their suffering. The suffering in itself may not be beneficial, but it may provide the key to new life and new understanding of faith. Christ told the travelers on the road, “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Was it necessary? Was it necessary that Jesus suffered the way he did? Was it necessary for Christ to suffer in order for us to recognize him?

John Wesley had two tests for any teaching he presented: first, was it in the Bible and second, was it in experience.

Looking into scripture, we find much about the necessity of Christ’s suffering and our recognition of him in it. In the Letter to the Hebrews, we read, “It was only right that God, who creates and preserves all things, should make Jesus perfect through suffering, in order to bring many to share his glory. For Jesus is the one who leads them to salvation.” In this same chapter, we read, “And now he can help those who are tempted because he himself was tempted and suffered.”

Let’s look next at experience, Wesley’s second test. We find the cross; we find suffering in life—in all life. It has been in life from the beginning. There is a story about a small boy who was brought into a great cathedral. He looked up at the tall altar and said, “I see a cross up there.” The priest then instructed the young boy to look at the floor. The building itself, just like ours, was in the form of a cross. “There’s a cross down here, too,” the boy exclaimed. Yes, there is a cross up there, but there is a cross down here in life, too.

It is in all of nature; the seed must die that the plant will live. The healthy cells must die when therapy kills the cancer cells. There are crosses of every shape and kind. There is the cross of suffering, the link between Christ and us.

How difficult it would be to minister to those who suffer if we did not have the risen Christ? To all who reel in sorrow; to all who feel resentful because life has done them its worst; to all who are tempted to believe there is no God in heaven, or, at least, no God of love—he comes and shows them his hands. More eloquently than any words, those pierced hands say, “I understand. I have suffered.”

There is suffering; there are crosses. And there were tears on the face of Jesus Christ. Not for his own suffering, but for that of others, it is recorded that Jesus wept. He weeps with the sufferers still; with all who are suffering and with those whose hearts may be bitter and resentful. We can’t steel ourselves against this suffering life alone. We need what Christ can give us because he has suffered. That’s why recognition of Christ often comes after a time of suffering.

Of course we are all on the way to Emmaus. We are all travelers who have heard the story. We have read the scriptures; we have great hopes in Christ as our Messiah. And, I think that we, like the travelers in today’s gospel, often don’t recognize Christ when He travels with us. But when we do—often during a time of personal suffering or struggle—when we see Christ in a personal way, we move from perception to true recognition, to a oneness with Him. And the beauty of the metaphor is that while we travel our own roads, even when we are unaware that Christ is walking with us, he is there. He is there and he understands our suffering. He is ready for us when we come to our recognition of him. And he will never leave our side, whether we recognize him or not.