Still, Small Voice

Luke 24:13-35; 1 Kings 19:9-13

September 10, 2023 • Mount Pleasant UMC

We live in a world of distractions. Everywhere you turn there are things that pull for our attention. And not just one thing; multiple things. At cardiac rehab, I usually watch some sort of morning news and it’s hard to decide if I want to listen to the anchor or read the scroll along the bottom. Drive down Third Street and see how many signs and billboards and yard signs are calling for us to pay attention. Then there are these little internet portals in our pockets or in the seat next to us in our cars notifying us when we’re getting texts and emails and news alerts and all the things. Sometimes we even get a phone call that we just have to answer right then! It’s not a staff meeting here until Pastor Rick gets a phone call. Do you ever get distracted? And when you get distracted, maybe it’s like this…

VIDEO: Dug

Distractions aren’t just annoying; they’re a real time consumer. Research from the University of California-Irvine shows that the time you spend on the distraction is really minimal. However, after being distracted it will take you, on average, a full 23 minutes and 15 seconds to get fully back to your original task. And that’s assuming you’re not distracted by something else! More than that, if you’re a multitasker, where you’re doing two or more things at once, research shows that you’re really not doing much on either task. According to a neurologist from Stanford, information taken in during multitasking can go to the wrong part of the brain and you end up not retaining much if anything from either task. More than that, our brains are not designed for multitasking, and it’s often the switching back and forth between tasks that causes us to end up exhausted and disoriented (https://www.entrepreneur.com/living/distractions-are-hurting-you-more-than-you-realize-heres/314677). Do you ever get distracted?

What about in your prayer life? Do you ever start to pray and maybe you hear something or you think of something or suddenly that “to do” list comes crashing into your mind? You think of something you don’t want to forget, but you don’t want to stop praying because that seems wrong, and then your mind is a million miles away from prayer and…squirrel! And then the preacher talks about listening to God and we know how hard it is for our minds to get quiet enough to really listen to what God might be saying to us. I was telling Rick the other day that I really struggle with this because of my artificial heart valve. Even if my environment is quiet, my body isn’t. I always hear it clicking and I find myself distracted by the noise of the valve. I should be glad, I guess, that it’s beating, right? But instead I let it distract me and take me off course. I don’t know what distracts you when you pray, but I’m sure there is something, maybe multiple things. And it’s especially hard because we know from the Scriptures that God speaks in a still, small voice.

This morning we’re continuing this series called “Hear: Listening to God,” talking about the ways we can learn to listen to the creator of the universe. And I told you a couple of weeks ago that I’ve never heard a loud, booming voice from the clouds. That makes for dramatic moments in the movies, but it’s not the way God speaks most of the time, it seems. More often, God speaks with what the ancients called the vox interna, the internal voice. God whispers. And no one learned that in a more dramatic fashion than the Old Testament prophet Elijah.

His story is told in the book of 1 Kings, and you’ll get a chance to read it this week if you follow the daily Scripture readings. Elijah has had to take a hard stance against a pagan religion that was infiltrating Israel, and that results in a standoff with their preachers on Mount Carmel. His God, the God of the universe, against their pagan god. He wins the contest, of course (or, rather, God does), and he has the pagan prophets put to death—which doesn’t make the current queen, Jezebel, very happy. She vows to have Elijah killed as well, so he takes off running. And he runs and he runs and he runs all the way to Mount Horeb in the desert. When he arrives there, he hides in a cave, and while he might be able to hide from the queen, he can’t hide from God. We’re told the “word of the Lord” came to him in the cave, and God tells him to “Stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by” (1 Kings 19:11). So Elijah does that and first there is a “great and powerful wind” that tears the mountains apart and shatters the rocks. Then there is an earthquake. And then there is a fire. But each time these things happen, we’re told that the Lord is not in those things. It’s striking, isn’t it, because that’s where we expect God to be. That’s undoubtedly where Elijah expected God to be. In the big things. In the spectacular things. In the powerful things. Earth(quake), wind, and fire. But the Lord is not in any of them. Instead, when Elijah finally experiences the presence of God, it is in, as the NIV says, “a gentle whisper” (1 Kings 19:12). The King James Version has the more famous “still, small voice,” and the New Revised Standard Version has perhaps my favorite translation: “the sound of sheer silence.” I love that, I think, because I have no idea what that would be like: the sound of sheer silence. But it reminds me that God most often doesn’t show up in the noisy, spectacular, noticeable ways. God speaks in a whisper, and it’s up to us to learn to listen, to hear.

So what gets in the way of our hearing? What distracts us? In the passage we read this morning, we encounter two travelers who are distracted, and for good reason. This story is one of Luke’s best told and most well known, especially for many of us here who have participated in the Emmaus movement. It’s an Easter afternoon story. Jesus has been raised, but he has only appeared to a very few people so far, and these two people are apparently tired of waiting. They are doubting the stories anyway, so they head out toward home. They’ve been in Jerusalem for Passover and after all that has happened there this year, they just want to get back to the comfort of home. We know one of them is named Cleopas (24:18), and while most tellings of this story picture another male companion, I think it’s more likely (or at least as likely) that the other person is his wife (cf. McKnight, Luke, pg. 362; Greig, How To Hear God, pg. 152). It’s even likely, some scholars say, that she is one of the “Marys” who was at the foot of the cross (cf. John 19:25; Greig 152)! Impossible to prove, of course, because all we know is that there are two people headed back to a village called Emmaus, which Luke says is seven miles from Jerusalem (24:13). As a sidebar, this village has never been located exactly; there are four different places in Israel that all claim to be Emmaus, but my take on that is that it was probably small enough that no one paid much attention to it and it has been lost to history. We probably wouldn’t even know about Emmaus if it weren’t for this story.

Anyway, they’re walking back home when they are joined by another traveler. As the readers, we know it is Jesus, but Cleopas and his companion do not. I found it fascinating that there are scholars who try to figure out why these two didn’t recognize Jesus; one suggested that they were traveling westward and staring into the setting sun so it blinded them from seeing who they were with (cf Barclay, The Gospel of Luke, pgs. 294-295)! We do know that Jesus looked different in his resurrection body because even disciples who had spent years with him didn’t recognize him immediately (cf. John 20:14), but the simple explanation is the one Luke gives us: “they were kept from recognizing him” (24:16).

And I think they had to be kept from recognizing him so that they would actually listen to what comes next. They are amazed that this traveler seems to be coming from Jerusalem and yet is ignorant as to what has happened there. To their thinking, they whole city had been in an uproar over the death of Jesus. And, more than that, there were these stories from the morning that his body was missing and some saying that he had been raised from the dead. How could this traveler have been been there and not know about all this? That’s when Jesus speaks up, calls them foolish (which is always a great way to start a conversation), and then begins to explain what really happened. Luke says, “Beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he [Jesus] explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself” (24:27). And this is where I want to ask Luke: what were you thinking? The greatest Bible lesson of all time, an explaination of the Scriptures from the mouth of the Son of God himself, and we don’t have any of it. Luke did not tell us a single word that Jesus taught on that walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus (cf. Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pg. 263). What was he thinking?

Anyway, when they arrive at Emmaus, Jesus acts like he is going on but they insist on him staying with them. Hospitality was and is a huge thing in the Middle East. But what’s fascinating is that when they sit down at the table, Jesus takes the role of the host (cf. McKnight 363), breaking the bread, and it’s in that moment they recognize him—just in time for him to disappear! It’s the breaking of the bread that sparks insight: “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road…?” (24:32). Somehow, in that moment, all of the distractions slipped away and they were finally able to hear that still, small voice that had been whispering to their spirits all along.

The couple journeying to Emmaus were distracted, no doubt by many things, but three things I want to mention in particular. First, there was the physiological distraction. As I said, Jesus looked different. In all of the resurrection appearances, Jesus is not the same as he was before the crucifixion. He passes through walls, shows up unexpectedly, and disappears in a moment. He has a physical body, is able to eat, but there are differences between his body and the ones you and I have. I don’t know about you, but I have never been able to walk through a locked door. Jesus looks different, and sometimes we get distracted when we are trying to listen because God shows up differently than we think he should or than he has in the past. For several years, I attended the New Room Conference that used to be held in Nashville, Tennessee. I always found my spirit refreshed and renewed when I went, but I also found myself struggling with some of the ways people said God was speaking to them there. God wasn’t speaking to me that way, and God hadn’t moved in my life that way, so my stubborn spirit concluded at first that God couldn’t show up that way. They must be faking it. And over the time I went there, I came to understand that God shows up differently to different people and in different ways at different times of our lives. While not a strictly physiological distraction, it was a matter of expecting God to show up one way when God wanted to do a “new thing” (cf. Isaiah 42:9). Sometimes we “put God in a box,” acting as if God can only speak and work and act in one way. But God will not ever stay confined in the box we try to put him in.

The second distraction these travelers are dealing with is psychological. Luke says as they begin to walk these seven miles, the only thing they can think about is what happened to Jesus. Luke says, “They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other…” (24:14-15). The words Luke uses there indicate that more than talking is going on. He implies some disagreement or debating (McKnight 362). One author even compares their discussion to a political disagreement (Bock, Luke, pg. 383), something we know all too much about these days! This is not casual conversation; this is intense discussion. So when Jesus joins them, their minds are literally elsewhere, focused on the debate and making whatever point they thought they needed to make with the other.

But there’s also the matter of expectations. When we expect one thing, and something else happens, it’s hard to see the thing that actually happens. It’s called “inattentional blindness,” which is when “our brains can fail to perceive a thing right in front of us when it flat-out contradicts our prior assumptions and expectations” (Greig 152). In other words, if we don’t expect it, it’s hard for us to see. And here’s the unified witness of the Gospel writers: no one expected a resurrection. What everyone knew was that Jesus was dead. He had been hung on a Roman cross and no one survived or came back from a crucifixion. The Romans were very efficient in their methods of killing. The women do not go to the tomb on Easter morning expecting to see Jesus; they go to finish the burial and to honor their friend. No matter how many times Jesus talked about being raised from the dead, no one got it. No one expected it. You hear it in the conversation of these two with Jesus: “We had hoped…” but their hopes have been dashed (24:21). And then there’s this: “Some of our women…went to the tomb early this morning but didn’t find his body. They…said he was alive” (24:22-23). And then here’s the real kicker: “Some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they did not see Jesus” (24:24). So, obviously, those silly, flaky women were mistaken. Or they made it up. Everyone knows dead men don’t rise and women aren’t reliable witnesses (cf. Card 262). Now, don’t throw things at me; that was the first century’s mindset. And it contributed to their psychological distraction. They didn’t expect to hear from Jesus again, and so they couldn’t listen when he showed up.

So here’s how it might play out in our own lives: have you ever been disappointed by God? Have you ever “hoped” God would do something and then it didn’t turn out the way you thought it would? Disappointment with God can very easily turn us into people unable to hear the still, small voice of God. Several years ago, I had two families who faced unbelievable tragedies, both of them losing a daughter to a terrible illness. One little girl died when she was five; the other died within two months of being born. Both situations were heart-rending for the church and, obviously, for the families. And both reacted in different ways. One family chose to trust in God, even though they couldn’t understand why this had happened. The other chose to pull away from the church and from God, vehemently telling people, “No one understands what we’re going through.” And I don’t mean to be trite, but God does understand. Not only was he there with them through it all, he watched his son die a painful, brutal death. God knows what it’s like. And he wants to walk with us. In the wake of his wife’s death, C. S. Lewis once said, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world” (qtd. in Greig 22). However, when God fails to meet our expectations, when we are disappointed with him, it may be hard for us to hear even his shouting.

The third distraction in this story is spiritual. This takes us back to that direct action God took along the road to Emmaus: “They were kept from recognizing [Jesus]” (24:16). For some reason, unexplained to us, Luke indicates that God took direct action for a time to keep these two from seeing what was right in front of them. The word Luke uses there is actually a very forceful word. It literally means that their eyes were “overruled, taken into custody, or seized” (Greig 155). I don’t understand that, and I don’t know anyone who does, but it was only for just a time because at the end, Luke says, “Their eyes were opened and they recognized him…” (24:31). It’s fascinating to me to see the patience of Jesus in this story. He walked with them for what seems to be most of the seven miles, talks with them through the whole of Scripture (granted, that would only be through Malachi, but still…), and even leaves it up to them as to whether they will invite him in or not. Certainly, as risen savior, Jesus literally has all the time in the world, and yet he is patient with them until they can see him for who he really is (cf. Greig 147). Maybe he keeps them from recognizing him until they can understand who he really is and what he really came for. They had to listen to him first before they could see him.

And even then, Luke does not say they opened their eyes. He says their eyes were opened. He seems to be indicating that we can’t see or hear Jesus on our own. We need the help of the Holy Spirit. Pastor Pete Greig puts it this way: “Hearing God, then, is not just a technique that you perfect but a grace that you receive…If information is to become revelation, and cognition about Christ is to become recognition of Christ, you will need something supernatural to take place so that the Lord gives you eyes to perceive, ears to receive, and a heart to believe what he is saying” (155). One of the tasks of the Holy Spirit, according to Jesus himself, is to remind us of what he said (cf. John 14:26), to help us understand his teachings. He points to Jesus, and if Luke is to be believed, helps us see him and hear him in the midst of ordinary things. If our spiritual eyes are closed or our spiritual ears are struggling to hear, we ask the Holy Spirit to come to us and help us understand.

So what does this story teach us about overcoming those distractions and learning to hear the still, small voice? I think the first thing we need to do is to slow down. Granted, when Luke wrote this story they knew very few means of transportation, but these two are walking for seven miles and Jesus is walking with them. The thing about walking is it takes a while to get from here to there. At a minimum, Jesus probably spends two and a half hours with these two, walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus. We get in such a hurry. Or maybe I should just speak for myself. I get in such a hurry. I want results right away. I want to sit down for a few moments and I expect God to speak to me on my schedule. But it doesn’t work that way, or at least it rarely works that way. Do you remember what I said a couple of weeks ago? God is rarely in a hurry to speak. The psalmist says, “Wait for the Lord” (Psalm 27:14). Remember, he doesn’t show up in the spectacular; he comes with a still, small voice.

The second thing I notice from this passage is that Jesus asks questions and listens as Cleopas and his companion share about their hurt, their disappointment, their grief, and their loss. When questions come to your mind, that very well may be God asking you to share what’s going on with him. It’s not that God doesn’t know what’s going on in your life, but like a good parent, he longs for you to share it with him freely, to trust him enough to share all the difficult places and the rough edges. He will not push his way in and he will not force healing on us. Only when we share it with him can he begin the healing process that is needed in us.

Third, Jesus took the time to unpack the Scriptures with these two travelers. Cleopas and his companion had certain misconceptions that Jesus had to correct, and he helped them understand the whole of the Scriptures, “starting with Moses and the prophets” (24:27). Luke says Jesus explained “all the Scriptures concerning himself.” That’s an amazing statement when you remember that there were no Gospels written yet. There were no letters from Paul. There was no New Testament! Luke reminds us that the whole of the Old Testament points to Jesus. All of human history points to Jesus. No matter what we’re reading in the Scripture, we should be looking for Jesus. Where are there hints of him? Where is it obvious? Take the time to allow the Spirit to speak to you and guide you to see, as some describe it, “Jesus on every page.” I hope you’re hearing clearly: God speaks through the Scriptures.

And then, a final piece of this story. He opens their eyes by a very simple thing: he breaks the bread in their house. Some speculate that maybe these two were at the Last Supper and they recognized the distinctive way (if there was one) Jesus broke bread. But Luke doesn’t tell us that. To me, the more profound meaning here is they saw him in the midst of ordinary circumstances. Suddenly, their eyes were opened and they recognized him in the midst of something (breaking bread) that no doubt happened in their home every single day. Our eyes can be opened and our ears unstopped as we invite Jesus into our everyday experiences. Many of you probably already pray at mealtimes, but I think often we just ask Jesus to bless the food. Honestly, I’m not even sure what that means. What if we also (or instead) invited Jesus to be present at our table and in our fellowship around the table? There is a Wesleyan prayer that some will sing to the tune of the Doxology that does just that:

Be present at our table, Lord

Be here and everywhere adored

These mercies bless and grant that we

May feast in fellowship with thee

Or what if rather than putting our ear buds in when we go for a walk we invite Jesus along with us? Spend that time in listening prayer. When I take the dogs out in the morning, sometimes I will stand on the deck, look out over the yard and sing a verse of “This is My Father’s World” as a way of inviting Jesus into the ordinariness of my day. The still, small voice breaks through in surprising ways when we are open to Jesus being part of all of our ordinary moments.

The end of this story is an exciting one, as that very evening, the two turn around and go back to Jerusalem—seven more miles—to tell the others what has happened. When the Lord speaks to you, no matter how it happens, you won’t be able to keep it inside. You’ll want to and need to tell someone. I’m going to give Pastor Pete Greig the last word this morning: “In whatever way the Lord has been whispering to your soul, don’t be surprised if he takes his time…, removing the veils of misunderstanding and unbelief you never knew you had, slowly dismantling your intellectual, psychological and emotional resistance to the Word that whispers love” (157). And all God’s people said, “Amen.” Let’s pray.