Out of His story and into mine

Excerpt: I saw the Emmaus road painting and imagined Jesus walking out of the painting into my room. Then I realized. He did. But like Cleopas, I miss Him. I quarantine Him to a frame called history.

I like a good story. Or a good painting. Even better? A good painting that pulls you into a good story. Which happens in the ‘Voyage of the Dawn Treader’ by C.S. Lewis.
 
As our tale opens, Lucy and Edmund are viewing a painting. A ship at sea.  For Edmund, it “makes things worse, looking at a Narnian ship when you can’t get there?”
 
To Lucy “the ship looks as if it’s actually moving”. As if it could sail right into the room. And then it does. Both ship and sea burst right out of the painting into their room.
Minutes later they’re sinking in Narnia’s Eastern Sea. But Prince Caspian comes to the rescue. He pulls them up into safety. And into the ‘Voyage of the Dawn Treader’.

Imagine what it might feel like for Edmund and Lucy as their painting came to life.
I was doing just that one day when I thought of another painting that tells a story.
I put the book down and looked up at a painting that’s hung on my wall for years.

'The Journey to Emmaus' By Robert Zund (Public Domain)

Matt Ridley says that whenever two ideas meet, they often generate a third idea. And it’s usually original. Unique. A new idea. Or a new perspective on an old idea.

This happened to me. I imagined this Narnian ship coming to life. Sailing out of a painting into their room. Pulling three bored kids into a story they will never forget.
Then I thought of the painting on my wall. Until that moment, it was just a painting.

You can see where I’m going with this ‘third idea’. But before reading on, hit pause. Imagine the Emmaus painting on your wall. Suddenly the road curves toward you. And Jesus walks out of the painting into your room. Which isn’t a fairy tale. He has!
 
I love this image! God and man. Engaged in deep conversation. On a country road.
To me, it’s the epic story of God. Captured in a single image. It’s a picture of God!

I see God when I see His heart. And I see it here.  I see what He loves. And desires.
I see why He came. Died. Rose. And why He waited before ascending to the Father.
If you endured all that He did, would you linger very long before returning home?

Why is He here? On this road? Because they are! And they’re in grief. Their hope is
gone. He delays His return to glory to give them hope. To let them know He’s alive.  

For many, the ascension is a reminder of Jesus’ absence. For Him, it’s the opposite.  It’s precisely because of His ascension that He can enter any heart that'll have Him.
By means of His Spirit, He’s not only with us. He’s in us! Which is why He ascended!

What is it that Jesus is really after? He’s after you! He wants a friendship! With you!

Friends like to be together. So like the disciples, Jesus calls you ‘Come’ and ‘Follow’. The word that Jesus used for ‘follow’ stems from 2 root words: ‘union’ and ‘road’.  Jesus says “You were never meant to walk this road alone. Can we walk together?”

Put yourself in the shoes of these 2 disciples. Because you are! God in flesh comes to earth. Finds your road. Enters your home. Opens His heart to you. Breaks bread with you! And then you realize. This is God! On my road! In my home! At my table!

“Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us
on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”  Luke 24:32

Why does a heart burn? Blaise Pascal said 'The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of’. The head can study fire. But only the heart can feel it’s warmth.
Eyes look. Only hearts see. Lips meet. Hearts kiss. My head knows that God is love. But when God seeks me out, sits at my table and tells me Himself, my heart burns!
 
No wonder their hearts burned! You can’t meet God face to face and be unaffected.
And yet when the story first opens, their hearts are not burning. They’re breaking. 

Whether true or not, if I think a friend has broken his promise, it’ll break my heart. When the friend is God, it breaks my world. Kills my hope. For these two, all their hope died with Jesus. “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” V. 21

Imagine these two at the triumphal entry. Israel’s long awaited King is finally here!
Like a gust of wind catching a kite, Jesus pulls their future hopes out of the grave.

Dreams long forgotten return. Once again, hope soars. Until their new king dies. And with Him the wind. And when the wind dies, kites fall. Dreams die. Hope dies.
 
I feel conflicted as I read their story. Living on this side of Easter, my brain wants to shake these two and yell ‘Do you realize who you’re talking to?! Hope isn’t dead! He’s right in front of you! As He said He would be. He’s with you! Open your eyes!’

Yet another part of me identifies with their disillusionment. I too have kites of hope
scattered lifeless on the ground. Promises unrealized. Prayers that go unanswered. Problems unresolved. Prophecies unfulfilled. I realize that life seldom turns out as I
would like it to. I don’t expect an exemption from pain. I just want Him to show up!

But like these two, we can miss what's right in front of us. He did show up. He’s here!

Confession: This painting hangs in my office. I see it daily. And the same Jesus who walked with these two is walking beside me. He is on my road! Sitting at my table.
We too break bread together. Daily. So why isn’t my heart burning like it once did?

While introducing a friend, an old man said “There’s nothing I treasure in life more than our friendship”. I once said this of Jesus. He was the only treasure I wanted. But over time, I let desires for other things choke out my desire for Him. I thought of Him just as much, but my thoughts no longer affected me. Nor did this painting.

This painting used to move my heart each time I glanced at it. It stirred my love for
Jesus. And a hunger for His companionship. But as I shared in my initial post, I let
overfamiliarity and many other desires lull me into a coma. Alive but not awake.
 
A day came when I’d see this picture and feel as emotionally detached as I do in a history museum. I had quarantined Jesus to a picture frame called history.* It used to trigger a desire to be near Him, talk with Him and listen for His voice. So I would.

But a day came when I’d look at it but not see it. Or Him. I tried to ‘keep Him alive’ by reading His story. But that’s like looking at old photo albums hoping to stir up memories of a dear friend. As if he's dead. When he’s right next to me. Loving me.

The painting Lucy saw is far more than a painting. Same with the Emmaus painting.
It’s an artist’s rendition of an actual event. The Son of God really did walk with men.
And He still does. He is not confined by a tomb. Nor by any picture frame I put Him in. If I just see Jesus on the Emmaus road, I may not see Him on mine. Which He is.

Reflection: Think over recent events in your life that stirred up an awareness of God. Is it possible Jesus is closer to you than you know? But you've grown oblivious to it?
What would you do if Jesus was standing beside you right now? Saying your name?

Because He is.

* Metaphor borrowed from ‘The Transforming Friendship’ by Leslie Weatherhead