For it is Toward Evening
“Lord Jesus, abide with us; for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” —Luke 24:29
For many people, evening is the best time of the day. The work of the day is over. The busyness that often fills the hours quiets down. As the sun begins to set, the cares and burdens of life seem to also slowly sink out of sight.
This is not as true in our modern age as it was in the past. Before electricity, it wasn’t so easy to just go on working. It was hard to see after sunset. Before automobiles and headlights, travel at night was difficult and dangerous unless there was a bright moon.
For many in America a generation ago, evening was a time to sit on the front porch and watch the colors of a sunset softly fade to grey—and then wait for the stars come out. Winter might see the family sitting around the kitchen table talking about old times and new plans, or maybe playing Monopoly.
Some of our best memories come from evenings: being called in for supper after a hard day of playing; sitting around a black and white television to watch “Father Knows Best”; and being tucked into bed by a mother’s gentle hand.
But maybe we can also remember times when the coming of evening bothered us. Maybe we didn’t want to stop playing outside. Or, perhaps the problem was that we were afraid of the dark.
Evening brings comfort and peace only if we know that good things wait for us with the coming of night. A warm meal, a loving family, a good night’s sleep—these we can look forward to. Walking the floor with worry, tossing on a bed with fever, or staring at the ceiling in loneliness—this makes us wish for the morning.
Today we turn to the story of two men who are coming home at the end of the day. In the morning they had gotten out of bed with an ache in their hearts. That night they would go to sleep with a smile.
It had been a long day. Most likely it was early in the morning when the two men had left their houses to walk seven miles to the city. Now the sun was beginning to set as they were finishing the return miles. But it wasn’t the 14 miles of walking that had made the day so long. It was wrestling all day with the confusing mixture of despair the hope that had left them drained.
It had all started last Sunday—though it probably seemed like a lifetime ago. Exactly one week earlier they were on top of the world. Everything was working out right. The future was bright and glorious. Before the week ended, the future was empty. Hearts were empty. Hope had been lost.
The Sunday before was Palm Sunday. These men probably were in the excited crowd that welcomed Jesus of Nazareth into Jerusalem as if he were a king. “Hosanna!” they had shouted. “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
The Son of David, it seemed, was coming into the capital city to claim his rightful throne. He would be crowned as King of the Jews.
That part was right. But now everything about it seemed horribly wrong. Crowds did indeed shout out, “Hail, King of the Jews!” but they did it in mockery and derision. A crown was indeed placed upon his head—but it was made of thorns, not gold or silver.
Friday had been a long day too. Hours had dragged on under a sunless sky. On a hill was a sight so horrible that one could hardly watch it. But so riveting that it was hard to look away.
Maybe these men quietly stood in the noisy, angry crowd at the edge of the hill. Or maybe they were so afraid that they watched only from a distance. Or maybe they went home to cry.
It was Sunday now. The Sabbath was over. They could travel again. So they came back to the place of the tragedy. The three crosses on that dreadful hill were empty now. Perhaps as they entered the city they tried not to even look in that direction. They wanted to be with their friends. They wanted to talk about what had happened. They wanted to try to find comfort. They needed to mourn the death of their greatest Friend in life. They had come in sorrow because on Friday Jesus had died.
St. Luke tells us their story:
“Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened.
As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him.
He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?”
They stood still, their faces downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, “Are you only a visitor to Jerusalem and do not know the things that have happened there in these days?”
“What things?” he asked. “About Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied. “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him; but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel. And what is more, it is the third day since all this took place.
In addition, some of our women amazed us. They went to the tomb early this morning but didn’t find his body. They came and told us that they had seen a vision of angels, who said he was alive. Then some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but him they did not see.”
He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Christ have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?”
And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.
As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus acted as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them.” —Luke 24:13-29
The day didn’t turn out so badly after all, did it? In fact, it ended so well, their hearts were so filled with joy, that they turned right around and hiked those seven miles back to Jerusalem! For all we know, they might have run most of the way.
When they got back to their friends with their story they were told, “It is true! The Lord has risen and appeared to Simon.” —Luke 24:33
How good to hear this! It got better. They got to see Jesus again. St. Luke writes, “While they were still talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’” —Luke 24:36
That’s the way it went for men we know as the Emmaus disciples.
The attention now turns in our direction. What about us? How has our day been? How was yesterday? How well did last year go?
How well has our life gone? Have we had some long, weary days? Has it been a long life? And what all has happened during the days of our life? Did we have some hopes? Did we have some joys? Were there disappointments? Were there tears?
If after this worship service we saw Jesus walking down the hall with us, what would we say to him? What presses most upon our hearts and minds? Like those two men on the way to Emmaus, are we disturbed by what is happening in the world around us? Are our faces downcast? Do we worry about the future? Do we wonder what next is going to happen to us?
Does the sun seem to be setting on the daylight of our life? Is it “toward evening” for us? Is our day “far spent”?
Does that trouble us? Does that frighten us?
Maybe we need to see Jesus again. Maybe we need to again hear him tell us, “Peace be with you!” Maybe he needs to speak to our hearts and explain what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself. Maybe he has to show us again his empty grave.
Maybe we need to allow him to fill us with joy and peace.
No matter what our physical age—child or adult—we never know how long our trip on earth may be. All of us might have to say: “It is toward evening and the day is far spent…”
But this is also true: Easter morning has dawned! Jesus has come into our lives and spoken to us. He has told us that because he lives, we shall live also.
And he has accepted our invitation. He promised that he will abide with us—not just today, not just tonight, but forever.
Amen.