He is Risen

(sequel to "Why Jesus Died.")

Yes, I saw Jesus die. I heard him cry, "It is finished. Father I commit my breath into your hands." I saw his head slump forward onto his chest. I knew he had stopped breathing. For hours I had watched every painful breath. You see, he had to straighten his legs, standing right on his nailed feet each time, just to breathe. And now his legs were bent, and he hung limply from his arms. I knew he was dead.

And yet, he couldn't be dead. This was Jesus, the healer, the teacher, the preacher, the one we all thought would be Messiah. We had seen him perform miracles, even raise people from the dead. One had actually been in the grave four days. We were confident that Jesus had power over death. So we knew that he himself could not possibly die. The previous night and again in the morning, he had been beaten terribly, enough to kill three men. Yet he remained alive.

We had watched him carrying his cross, stumbling and falling, several times. Finally he was too weak to go on, and somebody else carried his cross the rest of the way. We watched as the Romans drove nails through his wrists and feet, then lifted up the cross and dropped it into a hole they had dug.

For hours he hung there, every breath another torture. He didn't say much, but everything he said had great meaning. Once he told us he was thirsty, but he didn't say a word of complaint. He asked John to look after his mother, but he didn't complain for himself. He offered heaven to a criminal hanging near him, but he didn't complain.

The closest he came to a complaint was actually a prayer, an old song of David, one we all knew: "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" And those words have gripped my mind ever since. Because we surely felt forsaken. But although I was bewildered, I couldn't believe he was really dead. I just stayed there watching for an hour, watching Jesus not breathing, with flies all over his face.

Then a Roman officer returned from Jerusalem. He gave a brief command to one of the soldiers, who got a strange look on his face, then saluted, and picked up his spear. The soldier didn't throw his spear. He just held it point up for a second, and jabbed it into Jesus' chest. And as he pulled it out, there were two distinct streams of liquid: one blood, one water. But Jesus didn't move or respond in any way. Only then did it hit me: My friend Jesus is dead!

I couldn't stay a minute longer. I stumbled down the hill, barely able to see where I was going. I don't remember much after that. I've heard that two Pharisees named Joseph and Nicodemus helped take Jesus down from the cross, and placed him in Joseph's own tomb. I guess I'm grateful to them. Certainly none of us had any idea what to do with his body. It was all I could do just to realize he was dead.

Soon the sun went down, and it was Sabbath. But we had no Sabbath hymns, no prayers. I don't know if any of Jesus' disciples went to the temple that day. I know I didn't. Sometimes I slept; those were the good times. The rest of the time I was groaning, sometimes sobbing. And when I tried to pray, all I could say was the prayer of Jesus, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"

You see, my people have been forsaken a lot. We weren't even a nation until God chose Saul to be our king. Then for most of Saul's reign there was war between him and David. Only David brought us peace, and that was peace only if you include having a war with the neighbors every spring. During the reign of Solomon we were both united and at peace. But we've had neither peace nor union since, and that's about a thousand years!

First we were oppressed by our own majority tribes together with the Syrians, then by the Assyrians, then the Babylonians. We kindly remember Cyrus, the Persian, who let us come back home, later Darius and Art axerxes. But despite the king's approval and even his money, we were next oppressed by the Samaritans and then again, the Syrians. Next it was the Greeks, who not only destroyed us as a nation, but tried to smash our religion, the only thing that held us together.

We fought fiercely against the Greeks, and actually won our war of independence. Under our new rulers, the Maccabbees, our borders returned to about those we had enjoyed under David and Solomon. But then our own rulers fought among themselves, and we were betrayed to the Romans. Now for longer than anyone can remember, we have been occupied by the Romans, who run everything, including our priesthood.

All this time we've been looking for a deliverer, who's both a prophet, like Moses, and a king, like David. And we've been so bitterly disappointed, so many times.

Let me tell you about Jesus: Less than four years ago he was completely unknown, running a carpenter shop in a village of Galilee. But then he closed the shop, and started wandering around the country as a teacher.

But what got people's attention was when he started to heal the sick, and do other miracles. They say he could turn water into wine, and turn one boy's lunch into enough food for 5,000 men, with scraps left over. And you should have heard him preach. Actually, I guess he didn't preach, as much as teach, but when you heard his words... I'm sure there's been no prophet like him since Moses.

When I heard my friends use the word, "Messiah, God's anointed," I knew they were telling the truth. Jesus had to be the one the prophets had foretold. We knew he had the power to feed an army, to clothe an army, even to heal an army. And certainly to inspire an army. In only one way was he a disappointment: He refused to lead an army.

But we all thought this was a clever tactic, to keep the Romans in the dark until just the right moment. Surely the time would be soon when he would reveal himself as the true Messiah, and drive out the Romans. We were all ready to fight for him. We expected it would be this year; maybe even at this Passover. A week before, he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, like a true king of Judah, with people shouting and singing and waving palm branches. Then we knew for sure: he was the one, and this was the time.

But suddenly, the parade was over. Jesus seemed to just melt into the crowd. We milled around for a while, but eventually we dropped our palm branches and went home for the night.

Jesus went to the temple every day, and once he chased out the money changers and the cattle salesmen. But they were back in business the next day. We thought it was clever of Jesus to keep the authorities on edge, not knowing what he would do next. And we kept guessing which day he would stand up and make his big announcement.

So we came to the Preparation Day, the day just before the last Sabbath of the festival. Then I was shocked to hear that a mob had arrested Jesus the night before. I joined the crowds standing outside Pilate's judgment hall. When I first got a glimpse of Jesus, I could hardly recognize him, he'd been beaten so badly during the night. Then we followed him out to the hill of the skull. And as I told you before, I was there when he died.

We'd been looking for Messiah for a very long time. Actually there had been many messiahs. Jesus was the closest to the real thing yet. But he waited too long to assemble his army, and now he was dead. The next day was Sabbath, but not a blessed Sabbath. Sick people knew they shouldn't come for healing on the Sabbath, but they came anyway. The temple was crowded with them, all looking for Jesus. But eventually they had to believe the truth: Jesus wouldn't be healing any of them. Jesus was dead.

I spent another wretched night in Jerusalem. By next morning I had pretty much accepted that Jesus was really dead, and began to think of going home. Then the rumors got completely out of hand. I guess you realize there just wasn't time to complete Jesus' burial before the Sabbath came. Now that the Sabbath was past, a group of women headed to the cave, carrying the supplies they needed to complete the process.

But you know how muddle-headed women can be. They were halfway there before it occurred to them that none of them was strong enough to roll back the stone. It takes four strong men to do that, and they hadn't recruited any men to help. Would you believe it? And now, having recognized their problem, did they return and ask for help? No, they just kept trudging along, talking about it.

But according to Joanna, when they got to Jesus' tomb, it was open. They didn't need to worry about the stone after all. They had a new problem: they could enter the cave, but Jesus wasn't there. Now the story gets very jumbled. Some of the women say they saw an angel. Some say they saw two angels. But they didn't see Jesus. Joanna says that Mary says she saw Jesus, and that he was alive. I don't know about the angels, but at least I had an opinion about Jesus: I knew he was dead; I'd watched him die.

I tried to calm Joanna down, and help her face the truth: of course we all hoped Jesus would be alive, but now we had to accept the fact that he was dead. But the more I reasoned with her, the more excited she became. No wonder the elders won't let women testify in court. They're too emotional to serve as witnesses. In the end, I was frustrated and angry, and Joanna was sobbing in a heap on the floor.

Finally Peter said he'd check it out himself. I guess John may have gone too. I don't know what happened to John. But Peter came back to report that sure enough, the tomb was empty. At least that's something everybody could agree on. But Peter found no Jesus, no two angels, not even one angel; just an empty cave.

I don't know if you've ever felt all at the same time—anger and grief, and hope and despair, and a tremendous exhaustion. We'd had three very disturbing days. Now all I could think about was going home, and sleeping for a long long time.

Cleopas said he felt the same way. So by afternoon we headed out for our village of Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. We were not in a hurry. We were already tired, and we had plenty of time to get home before dark. So we took our good old time. And as we walked, you can imagine what we talked about. We were remembering everything we'd experienced about Jesus, and trying to make some kind of sense out of it.

We had a pretty good start when a stranger came up behind us. He bothered us, because we knew he was close enough to hear what we were saying, but he didn't say anything himself. We didn't really like to open our hearts to strangers. He might be a Roman spy, looking to get us in trouble with the government. And even if he were harmless, why should we let a stranger intrude on our private conversation?

So we stayed quiet for a long time. The stranger kept pace with us, just behind us, saying nothing. Then, breaking the unbearable silence, he spoke up. He sounded friendly. He said, "Brothers, I can tell you are disturbed. Would you mind sharing your troubles with me? What are you talking about?"

Well, my first inclination was to tell him it was none of his business. But I'm happy to say, I didn't snap at him. I think Cleopas felt much the same way.
At least he answered the man, but couldn't keep a touch of irony out of his voice. "Well I guess you must be the only stranger in Jerusalem who doesn't know what everybody's talking about, for the last three days!"

The stranger didn't take offense, but asked courteously, "What's been happening?" I'd never met a man who sounded so intelligent, yet was so ignorant about current events.

So, we began at the beginning. We told him about Jesus, the carpenter, who became a teacher and healer. We let him know about our hopes for Messiah, and our dreams of David's kingdom restored. We told him about the messianic prophecies.

But it turns out he wasn't as ignorant as we thought. He knew the prophecies better than we did. He was obviously someone who like we, had studied the prophets since he was a kid. We didn't need to lug any scrolls along. We all quoted from memory, and compared understandings.

The stranger started with the words of Moses: "The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your fellow Israelites, and you must listen to that prophet." (Deuteronomy 18:15 NLT).

Of course we remembered that; we've been looking for another prophet like Moses, for over 1200 years.

Then the stranger drew our attention to Isaiah:

"Out of the felled stump of Jesse a shoot shall spring, out of his roots a strong sapling shall rise. Upon him will rest the Spirit of the Lord—The spirit of wisdom and insight, The spirit of just-dealing and power, the spirit of knowledge and reverence for the Lord. (Isaiah 11:1-2 NLT).

We remembered that too, and knew that Messiah would come from the line of Jesse and David.

Then we pictured ourselves scrolling toward the end of Isaiah, as the stranger quoted:

"The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is upon me, because the LORD has appointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to announce that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed. He has sent me to tell those who mourn that the time of the LORD's favor has come, and with it, the day of God's anger against their enemies. (Isaiah 61:1, 2 NLT).

Then the stranger asked a very disturbing question: He asked us whether any of these prophecies might have been fulfilled by Jesus of Nazareth. We quickly reviewed them together, and replied that all of them would fit, except for the day of God's vengeance against his enemies.

As we walked along, the stranger asked us to recall along with him, a passage from Isaiah that we all knew, but we'd never known to whom Isaiah was referring. Let me share it with you. This is what we recited together as we walked along:

"Who has believed our message? To whom will the LORD reveal his saving power? My servant grew up in the LORD's presence like a tender green shoot, sprouting from a root in dry and sterile ground. There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him.

"He was despised and rejected—a man of sorrows, acquainted with bitterest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way when he went by. He was despised, and we did not care.

"Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down. And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God for his own sins! But he was wounded and crushed for our sins. He was beaten that we might have peace. He was whipped, and we were healed!

"All of us have strayed away like sheep. We have left God's paths to follow our own. Yet the LORD laid on him the guilt and sins of us all. He was oppressed and treated harshly, yet he never said a word. He was led as a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth.

"From prison and trial they led him away to his death. But who among the people realized that he was dying for their sins—that he was suffering their punishment?

"He had done no wrong, and he never deceived anyone. But he was buried like a criminal; he was put in a rich man's grave." (Isaiah 53:1-9, NLT).

As we were remembering these words together, my cold heart seemed suddenly warmed. It was as if I had been stumbling through a storm, when suddenly the clouds parted and the sun began to shine.

Then the stranger asked us whether Jesus had ever said anything about his death.

I was about to say no, he'd never spoken of dying. But then I remembered a strange thing Philip had told me just two weeks before.

It was hard for Philip to share this, but he did mention that on just a few occasions, Jesus said things that seemed to be complete nonsense. And now I remember so clearly... Philip said that Jesus said, "The Son of Man will be handed over to the Romans to be mocked, treated shamefully, and spit upon. They will whip him and kill him, but on the third day he will rise again." (Luke 18:31, 21 NLT). These words had been complete nonsense to me too, and I hadn't given them a second thought, until that moment.

Suddenly I saw that we had arrived in Emmaus, and we turned toward the house of Cleopas. We hadn't gone three steps when I realized the stranger was no longer following us. He was still walking along the main road toward the center of town. None of us had even said good-bye.

Cleopas stopped at the same time, and looked back too. We didn't make a plan. Both of us ran back to the main road, and caught up with the stranger. We begged him to keep talking to us, to eat with us, to spend the night with us. He agreed, and seemed happy to have a place to stay.

Have you ever had a strange feeling of anticipation? You knew something good was about to happen, but you didn't know what? Well, that's how I felt. Cleopas pulled out our supper, just some bread and cheese and wine. Our stranger knew the prophets so well, I knew he must be a rabbi. I asked if he would be willing to ask God's blessing on our meal.

I remember his exact words, because they were the same words we have all prayed so often: "Blessed are you, O Lord, God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Creator of the earth, who has given us bread to eat." And as the stranger held up the bread and broke it, suddenly I saw his hands and his face, as if my vision had just cleared.

His wrists bore the marks of Roman crucifixion, exactly as I had seen them on Golgatha. And suddenly everything was plain. His were the hands of Jesus; he had the face of Jesus; we were listening to the voice of Jesus. And the instant I finally tumbled that we had been walking with Jesus, he disappeared!

No, I mean it! One instant we saw him breaking the bread; the next instant the bread lay broken on the table before us, and Jesus was gone. He didn't even bother to open the door, he was just gone.

You can guess what we did next: It was night, and it was seven miles back to Jerusalem. We had thought we were tired and hungry, but not any more. I'm sure we set a record for the seven-mile run, scrambling, breathing, falling, picking ourselves up, running on and on.

It was very late when we got back to Jerusalem, and found our way to the room where Jesus' closest followers were staying. As John opened the door he blurted out, "The Lord has risen! He appeared to Peter!"

I wish you could feel the excitement in that room. Eyes were shining, people smiling, and everybody was talking at once. While we caught our breath, we listened to good news from the other disciples. Then we finally got a chance to tell our own story. Everyone was quiet now, so we told it from the beginning, about the walk, the stranger, the scriptures, and we ended with the bread.

Now comes the best part: When I said that just when Jesus broke the bread, he disappeared.... Just as suddenly, Jesus appeared! Right there, among us!

You might think we'd be delighted, but it was such a shock. I think we were all scared. I know I was. Then Jesus said, "Peace be with you."

I know you'll find this hard to believe, but we didn't feel peace. We stayed scared, all of us. Then Jesus said, "Why are you frightened? Why do you doubt who I am? Look at my hands. Look at my feet. You can see that it's really me. Touch me and make sure that I am not a ghost, because ghosts don’t have bodies, as you see that I do!"

Then he held out his hands for us to see, and he showed us his feet.

Again I recognized the nail marks, and was just about to speak, when Jesus asked, "Do you have anything here to eat?"

Everyone had eaten hours ago, but there was still some broiled fish. You should have seen all the stupid expressions on our faces as we just stood there dumbfounded, and watched Jesus eat.

I don't know why it made such a difference, but as we watched Jesus eat that fish, and lick his fingers, then wash his hands, we all relaxed. And for the first time in three years, we were really ready to listen.

What a Bible study we had that night! For hours, Jesus explained the scriptures, just as he had when he was hiking with the two of us, but lots and lots more. Then just before dawn, he said, "With my authority, take this message of repentance to all the nations, beginning in Jerusalem: 'There is forgiveness of sins for all who turn to me.' You are my witnesses."

And again, he just vanished!

If we have a chance, I'll tell you about how Jesus appeared again and again, for six weeks, mostly in Galilee, the special messages he had for Peter, the day he appeared to James, that time when more than 500 of us saw him at once. (1 Corinthians 15:6).

Oh, there's so much to tell you, but here's the summary: God has not forsaken us. Just as surely as I knew Jesus was dead, I'm sure he lives again. And he said that if he came back from the dead, anybody could, if we trust him to make it happen. Jesus is the resurrection and the life. There can be no better news than that. And you know how it is with good news: There's no way to keep from sharing it.

Please feel free to tell others how Jesus appeared to Cleopas and me. Tell them how Jesus led us to confidence in him, not because of his personal appearance, but first by the evidence from scripture. Tell them that the instant we caught on to what the prophets meant, he vanished, so we would then explain the scriptures to others. Now you've heard our experience with Jesus. But I know that in your own way, you'll meet Jesus too, and we're all anxious to hear about it. Thanks for letting me tell you about our Lord. Don't you want him to be your Lord too? He is risen indeed! He lives!