A Walk to Remember and a Meal that Changed Everything

Scripture Lessons: Psalm 116: 1-4 and 12-19 and Luke 24: 13-35 Sermon Title: A Walk to Remember and a Meal that Changed Everything Preached on April 23, 2023 The opposite of faith isn’t doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty. You may have heard me say that before. I didn’t come up with it; I just like to repeat it because I think it’s true. Sometimes, we think of doubt as a bad thing. Sometimes, we think of doubt as the opposite of faith, but be more cautious of people who are too certain of their convictions. I feel you must be careful when you are absolutely certain because you may be absolutely wrong. Last Thursday, I was rushing to a 5:00 meeting, certain that the meeting would start at 5:00. When I arrived to an empty room, I wondered where everyone was, certain that I had the time and the location correct. When I finally doubted those convictions, I found that the meeting was scheduled for 5:30. Wouldn’t it have been nice had I doubted myself a little bit? Doubt gets a bad rap, while certainty does more damage. If you’ve read the book or seen the movie that inspired my sermon title: A Walk to Remember, then you might remember a preacher who was certain his daughter was falling for a no-good, lacking-in-aspiration, rich kid with only one thing on his mind. The preacher was certain about this boy. He was sure. There was no doubt in his head, and when a preacher is certain about somebody, certain that he’s no good, all kinds of damage is done. With certainty, that door is closed. There’s no chance of relationship. There’s no chance of redemption, as there was with the disciple Thomas who said, “I might believe if I just could see him.” Therefore, the wise preacher might have said, “I might like him if I had the chance to get to know him,” so there is wisdom in doubt. With certainty, it’s already over because you already know. Hope is lost. The light is out. It’s finished. That’s where the two in our second Scripture lesson were. They were unlike Thomas, who, you may remember from Rev. Cassie Waits’ beautiful sermon last Sunday, was looking for Jesus, still hoping to find Him. Once he did, he took the Gospel all the way to India. These two that we read about in today’s Gospel lesson were leaving Jerusalem because they had given up. They were certain that there was nothing left for them to discover. They tell this stranger who they were traveling along with: “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” “We had hoped.” That’s past tense. Certain that hope was lost, certain that they’d done all they should have done, certain that there was nothing left to see and nothing left to learn, they were headed back home. It was all over, of that they were certain. Therefore, certainty is a problem when it comes to faith. Certainty is a problem when it comes to faith in God or faith in people because certainty rules out new information that might change your mind or your course when you’re moving in the wrong direction. These two in our second Scripture lesson were moving in the wrong direction, certain that Jesus was dead, while Jesus was walking right beside them, for He is risen. They, like us sometimes, didn’t recognize Him because of their certainty, not because of their doubt; therefore, I hope you see that at times it’s foolish to be certain. People who are certain miss out on a lot. There’s a Dr. Seuss book about it. You know the story: A character named Sam asks Daniel: “Do you like green eggs and ham?” Daniel is certain that he doesn’t, and so he says: “I do not like them, Sam I am. I do not like green eggs and ham.” Fortunately for Daniel, Sam keeps walking with him: “You do not like them. So, you say. Try them! Try them! And you may.” Daniel, who was certain that he knew already, takes a bite, and his eyes are opened. That’s what happened in our Gospel lesson. Just when these two men are sure that Christ has died, certain that He’s gone for good, in the breaking of the bread, their eyes were opened, and they see that the Resurrected Lord had been walking with them all along. This is the power of a meal, and I want you to think about the power of a meal because you have access to this same power, but are you taking advantage of it? There’s a story Dr. Eugene Peterson tells of when his wife, Jan, went to speak to a women’s group. They were all struggling with their husbands who worked all the time and their kids who were involved in baseball, dance, art club, Karate, and church choir. “How can we hold our families together?” they wanted to know. “I challenge you to do just one simple thing,” she said. “Eat dinner together at least four times a week.” Why would that be her suggestion? It’s because when we break bread together, our eyes are opened. Jesus ate with people, and He saw them. Many saw tax collectors, prostitutes, sinners, scallywags, doubters, and betrayers, but Jesus ate with them and saw brothers and sisters. He broke bread with them and saw their potential and their beauty. This is the miracle of a meal. Sometimes, that’s exactly the miracle that we all need. Years ago, I was at a meeting where I heard a man named Andre Norman speak. This speaker, Andre Norman, went up to Ferguson, Missouri during the protests and demonstrations that raged after Michael Brown was killed by a police officer. Mr. Norman wanted to help, so he put together a panel of major players in the conflict in the hopes of spurring some dialogue that would build relationships. For this panel, he got together the police chief, the mayor, a gubernatorial candidate, and two leaders in the Black Lives Matter movement. They were all seated behind a long table in front of a big crowd. As we watched the video of this panel, we saw that people were tense and angry. It was obvious that they didn’t trust each other, and before any of them spoke, we could tell that most of these leaders had already lost hope, certain that no headway was going to be made by having this divided of a group speak to a crowd. One of the leaders in Black Lives Matter stands up. He’s a young African American man who goes by Ooops. Ooops walked in front of the panel, told everyone there that Ferguson is filled with racists, that he’s certain all the political leaders present are racists, and how he’s absolutely certain that nothing has really changed in America since the days of slavery. Then, he cussed at the crowd and sat back down. For him, whether he was right about any of that or not, hope was lost, and after he said what he said, hope of a successful panel was lost, too. After the panel meeting ended, this Mr. Norman asked these leaders – the police chief, the mayor, the gubernatorial candidate, Ooops, and Ooops’s friend from Black Lives Matter Movement – to eat lunch with him. They talked so much that lunch turned to dinner. The next day, they ate breakfast together. “These are just meals,” some would say. “What can a meal do?” some would ask, yet these three meals helped all of them realize that despite their differences or disagreements, they had so much in common. Despite the road they wanted to travel, they had the same destination in mind. Over a meal, individuals become family, antagonists become coworkers, and after eating with these politicians and learning about them, Ooops decided to try and become one. In 2016, that young man who went by Ooops was elected to the Missouri Legislature and became Representative Bruce Franks, Jr., serving district 78 in the State of Missouri’s House of Representatives. How do you explain such transformation? That’s the power of a meal, and so Garrison Keillor joked that the Lutherans of Lake Woebegone celebrate three sacraments: baptism, communion, and potluck supper. More than that, we call on people to volunteer in the kitchen, hand out family meal boxes on Tuesdays, and we train and empower men and women to become Stephen Ministers. Today, we are commissioning two who are charged with walking beside people. Walking beside people who are going through divorce, unemployment, or any of the many difficult transitions of life. Their role doesn’t sound obviously miraculous, though I assure you it is. There are few things so beautiful as reminding people who are certain that they are alone that Jesus is walking with them. My friends, faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Do not be certain that you are alone or that hope is lost. Have faith that He is as good as His word, for He assured us that He would neither leave us nor forsake us but would be with us to the end. He is never far, especially when we need Him most. Amen.