This post is written by Leslie Hudson as a companion for Unit 28, Session 1 of The Gospel Project for Adults, Volume 10: From Many People to One People (Winter 2023-24).
I started kindergarten in 1980 near Nashville, Tennessee. That next summer, we moved to Lexington, Kentucky, about four hours away from everything we had ever known. My parents had been born and raised in Nashville and had never lived anywhere else. Most of their family members, likewise, had stayed in that same general area. So moving one state away probably felt to them like moving to Egypt.
Especially in the 1980s. Granted, we had interstates and vehicles that could easily make the journey, but cellular phones were only on the Jetsons and calling long-distance was outrageously expensive. So when people would make plans to come visit, my mom would have one conversation with them, basically verifying the dates. And then we’d wait. We wouldn’t have a clue what time they actually left or when they thought they’d arrive. They might get to our house in time for lunch, but it might be dinner. There was no mapping software and no tracking your loved ones on an app; you hoped they left when they meant to leave and you prayed they didn’t hit much traffic.
I remember my mom dropping me off at school on a Friday morning with the exciting news, “Your grandparents are hoping to leave this morning and be here this afternoon!” I’d spend all day giddy, hoping they’d be there waiting as I stepped off the bus. Once, some of my parents’ best friends were coming to visit for the first time, and somehow the warning to bring change for the toll roads had never been discussed. Though the total of something like $1.75 was not going to be an economic hardship to anyone, digging those exact coins out of the ashtray and change purse probably seemed stressful to their 7-year-old son sitting in the back seat. When they pulled in the driveway and my dad said, “I’m so glad you’re all here!” the child looked sternly at my father and said, “Well, it cost us a whole lot to get here.”
Back then, waiting for someone to show up was almost unbearable, but it was better than a surprise. At least you knew what to expect. Once, my mom had surreptitiously arranged for some of our favorite friends from out of town to meet us at a restaurant. When we walked in the door and saw them, my head started spinning. I couldn’t feel my hands, and I honestly thought I was going to be sick to my stomach. The shock of seeing someone you weren’t expecting just about overwhelmed me.
This was the memory that came to mind as I wrote this week’s lesson. As Jesus appeared in the midst of some slack-jawed, open-mouthed disciples, Luke tells us they were “amazed and in disbelief because of their joy” (Luke 24:41, CSB). Other translations render it “they were wondering and questioning in the midst of their happiness” (CEB) and “they were so glad and amazed that they could not believe it” (CEV). I get that. Sometimes the joy is overwhelming, and though it’s everything we had dreamed but didn’t dare speak, we don’t really know how to respond.
But these were the disciples! They had heard and watched and witnessed His miracles for three years. They had heard Jesus promise that He would die and rise again, and yet the shock of seeing Him appear didn’t even register as truth; they actually thought He was a ghost. My first thought of this scene is critical: “Weren’t you waiting for Him? Weren’t you excited? Why didn’t you believe Him?”
But then I’m reminded of my own heart: I’ve heard the prophecies of Jesus’s return; I know He’s coming back and I know it will shock the world. It might even shock us believers. But Luke 24 reminds me of the compassion of Jesus: He is patient with us, even when our fears trump our faith. He gives us proof even when He promised and we should believe. And He gives visible and tangible proof when our joy seems to overwhelm our senses.
There’s no mapping app to let us know when Jesus will show up again, but we can still wait in hope and joy. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to let Luke 24 be my holy reminder to watch and wait expectantly. I can’t wait to rejoice with you.
Leslie Hudson loves her mornings of silence, coffee, and Jesus—not in that order. She lives with her husband and kids in White Bluff, Tennessee, where they raise blueberries, figs, and bees. She loves to spend her free time reading, writing, journaling, and helping others know and follow Jesus.
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