It’s been a long road trip since we started this thing back at the beginning of Lent. We’ve been on the road all these weeks as we walked alongside men and women of the Bible on their faith journeys. Looking back, we see we’ve covered quite a distance, walked many lifetimes.
Let’s take some time to reflect on where we have been and what we have learned in all these journeys.
First there was Abraham. His story told us that every journey starts with an act of daring. An act of trust. Every journey begins by saying yes.
Setting out on a journey is a positive action. Journeys do not start with a “no, thanks,” or with a feeling of hopelessness that life is bad and getting worse and there’s no fixing it. A journey starts by saying yes to the idea that there is something out there worth journeying to; that the road we are invited to take will be worth the trip.
No one knows exactly what is going to happen on a faith journey. I don’t think God knows. It requires trust that the journey into the unknown will be worth it.
Ruth came along to show us that faith journeys can lead us into some harsh and unforgiving lands over difficult trails. The brochure for a faith journey does not promise complete and total satisfaction at all times or your money back. It says straight out that there may be days when you wonder why you ever set foot on this journey. There will be times when you lose your way, when you lose confidence, when you lose the ability to keep saying yes to the journey.
Ruth’s story told us that because of the danger involved, a faith journey should not be attempted alone. That is why God provides us with people of faith to travel the journey with us. So that together we can stay on the path. Those who travel with us call us back to the road when we wander off, and we do the same for them. They say yes to the journey when we cannot; we do the same for them.
Jeremiah’s faith story reminded us that there are places on a faith journey where, because of the presence of evil in the world, the trail may disappear, or a bridge may wash out altogether. Which is why God calls some of us to interrupt our faith journey and rebuild the road that we had hoped to travel. For some of us, there may be times when our faith journey becomes a sacrifice, a work project that we undertake not for our own benefit but for the sake of those who follow. And we do well to recognize those who have done so for us, so that we can get to where we need to go.
Amos’s faith story took him on a road filled with obstacles, primarily obstacles of injustice. He was faced with the choice of scouting around for some easier way forward and risk getting lost in the wilderness, or staying on the road, confronting the obstacle, dealing with it, and getting past it.
Journeys of faith do not lead us along the path of least resistance. If that were the case, there would be no reason to ever take them, since the path of least resistance is simply to sit at home in the recliner and never journey. Faith is not only necessary for the first step on a faith journey; it has to be there throughout the journey.
On the other hand, Caleb’s faith story told us that in some important ways the journey is easier than most of us expect. We stew about fences and walls and toll gates that we are sure we will encounter on the road, only to find that there are none. As we go along on our faith journey, we sometimes find that we have sprouted wings. That we can soar into a freedom that we don’t know how to give ourselves, a freedom that only God can give us.
Nicodemus showed us that our faith journey often leads us to forks in the road, where the way is not clear. We ponder the choices in confusion, and often take the wrong one.
Which is why Jesus came to live among us. Jesus shines a light onto the path. It’s not so obvious in daylight; it is when we find ourselves stumbling in darkness that this light shows up most clearly and guides us back to the path.
Mary’s faith story introduced us to a dangerous mirage called death. So many of us believe that death is the end of the journey. We see it looming in the horizon. We can’t avoid it. Since we don’t want to go there, we would just as soon not bother with the journey. Better to stay at home and pretend it doesn’t exist.
But through the miracle of faith, Jesus shows us that death is not the end of the journey. He walked through it to show us that the road does not end there. To show us there is a way through the darkness of death and sorrow, and that if we keep moving, we will come out on the others side.
Philip showed us that there is no predicting where the faith journey will lead. Our best plans and best guesses for the future may evaporate like the mist, leaving us temporarily disoriented.
Again, faith is required. Only faith can keep us from stubbornly walking into a dead end, clinging to a nonexistent expectation. Only by faith can we recognize the opportunities, and embrace the unexpected joys of fields and the forests through which the new road takes us, that we never would have found on our own
Palm Sunday was a grim reminder that the faith journey is not an antiseptic walk on a neatly swept, diamond-studded sidewalk through a germ-free environment; it takes us into the mud.
A journey of faith leads to life, and the grime of human need and suffering is a place where we find life in its rawest form. The seeds of new life grow in the dirt, and that is where we will find some of our greatest growth.
Judas showed us the greatest pitfall on the faith journey—the cliff of despair. The place where you throw away the “yes” of the journey, and walk off into the abyss. He pointed us to the sure thing that keeps us away from that cliff: the body and blood of Jesus Christ in the bread and wine given for you, placed in your hands, for the forgiveness of sins.
Peter showed how a faith journey can be a wild rollercoaster ride through tremendous peaks and dismal valleys. How the thing that prevents us from moving forward on our faith journey is often our own pride. How we get bogged down when we get more concerned about how we look than in where we’re going.
In a journey of faith, we find that the words sung by Peter Yarrow are true:
“In God’s eyes we’re all the same: some day we’ll all have perfect wings.” The important thing is to get where we are going.
And finally, the unknown disciple allowed us to step in to his faith journey so that we could experience the core of the passion story and resurrection. He showed us that a faith journey is above all, a journey of discovery. As we travel along the road that Jesus invites us to travel, we discover that the trip is more inspiring and fulfilling than we ever dreamed it could be, and brings us into a world teeming with new life.
So now, at last, we come to me. I am a disciple you have probably never heard of, but my faith story is one of the most compelling. My name is Cleophas. Nobody knows anything about me. Read about my story in Luke 24 13:49.
My story is important because mine is the one that talks about the payoff. Remember we start our faith journey with a step of faith. A hope, a dream, a promise.
If that’s all it ever is, it’s nothing but wishful thinking. A faith journey is then only a wild goose chase
When on this journey does faith find a home? How does that little spark of hope blaze into confident assurance?
Look what happened to my friend and me. You see, we did not recognize Jesus at first. We were living solely on hopes and dreams which, because the events of Holy Week, were dashed to pieces. To be honest, there wasn’t much point in continuing the faith journey. It seemed like a wasted trip.
Then we met this guy on the road. We didn’t know who it was. But as we listened to him we experienced a case of heartburn. Not the kind you get from a spicy meal; but a tiny, dying spark of faith that flared up.
We didn’t really pay much attention to it at first. We had given up on that spark—didn’t expect it would ever amount to anything.
In fact, it wasn’t until we were sitting down at supper, and this man took bread, blessed it and broke it, and gave it to us, that something about this looked so familiar. And this time we stared harder. We recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread. He was right there—so obvious, we couldn’t imagine how we had missed it.
In fact, I’m more than a little embarrassed by that. As we hurried
back on the road to
What I have learned from my faith journey is this: The heart is stubborn holdout. The heart is the last refuge of the spark of life. The heart is the place where the yes to life is hardest to extinguish.
Pay attention to your heart. Your heart will tell you when Jesus is near.
When you are paying attention to your heart, it is so much easier to recognize Jesus. To recognize him in the act of bringing new life. Your heart makes it easier to recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread. In the creation of quilts. In the clothing and feeding and housing of the poor. In the blending of voice and talents in music. In the tireless and joyful pursuit of peace and justice. In the welcoming of a stranger. In the comforting of the sick and the grieving. In the sacrifice of self for the benefit of others. In the selfless acts of love in quiet corners, performed by people who are no more important or better remembered than I am.
The journey of faith begins with a spark of faith. It starts by saying yes to the idea that there is something out there worth journeying to; that the road we are invited to take will be worth the trip. The journey requires a realistic understanding of the hardships involved, and an openness to let the journey take you where it will. And the journey best walked with others.
We walk with others by sharing our faith stories with them. Nobody knows anything about me. But they know my story and that’s the important thing. And so I invite you to do that in this coming year. There are prompts available in the narthex to help you with this exploration.
As we continue our journey together, we keep the faith by paying attention to that little flame in our heart that will not die, the one that tells us that Jesus is near. When we do that it’s amazing how easy it is to recognize Jesus in the act of bringing new life.
The faith journey is never predictable; but our heart tells us that this journey into the unknown will be worth it. Two thousand years from now, no one will know who we are, but if they know our story, that is all that really matters.