Hopeful Expectations
by Kevin Allen
April 17, 2022 · Centerpointe Apostolic Church (Murfreesboro, TN)
Kind: sermon
Scripture: Luke 24:13-32, Genesis 3:6-7

Source: https://acts238.life/repository/sermons/kevin-allen--hopeful-expectations
Published by Acts 2:38 Life from the sermon transcript on that page.
Free to copy and share with attribution.

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Today, you know, the Easter Sunday — there there's not a way for me to surprise the message. You know, we're here celebrating the fact that that we have a a Savior who who came up out of the grave. But as I was thinking about this week's message and beginning to prepare for it — actually several months ago, and began to put some things together — there was a passage in Luke 24, which is where we're going to go, that I've i ve never preached out of this. And that s that's getting more and more rare for me to save, through my number of years of ministry, but I've never preached from this passage of scripture before. But I want to tell you today about two people in the Bible to whom Easter came late.

A lot a lot of people know the the the story of Easter. Even if you've maybe not been around church a whole lot, or even any, you probably have a little bit of an outline there: that on the first day of the week, that Easter Sunday, a few women ran to the tomb of Jesus, and it was empty. It was referred to a few minutes ago, as Taylor was greeting the crowd, he talked about the fact that there was an angelic visit that was there, and he said, "Why seek ye the living among the dead?" And they went, and they ran, they told the disciples, and the rest of the story is just history.

But today I want to talk about the lesser-known story. I want to talk about this that was written by Luke there. And it doesn't come at the beginning of the day. It comes at the end of the day. Because I want somebody to know here that hope sometimes comes early, but sometimes it also comes late. Why it came late for this couple may have something to say about your life, about your hope, and about God and your story and your expectations. So on this Easter Sunday, I want to preach a message about hopeful expectations. Hopeful expectations.

Luke chapter 24, verse number 13. This is the story of the two people in whom Easter came late. "Now behold, two of them were traveling that same day" — this is, this again, this is Easter Sunday — "to a village called Emmaus, which was seven miles from Jerusalem. And they talked together of all the things" — and the things they're talking about is the death of Jesus — "that had happened." They're having a discussion about it and what should happen. Verse 15: "So it was, while they conversed and reasoned, that Jesus himself drew near and went with them." Verse 16: "But their eyes were restrained, so that they did not know him."

It's a really interesting story here, something that I've never really thought about up until this — probably about a month ago, I was beginning to try to put together what I felt like God was laying on my heart for us for this. As I was reading this, I began to think: why did they not recognize him? What was going on? And we're going to find out in a moment that we actually know one of the names. We know that that it was Cleophus was one of the man. And in fact, in the Gospel of John, if you if you read the account there at the cross, you will read that one of the women at the cross was Mary, the wife of Cleophas, present. It was it was present there when Jesus was being crucified. And many Bible scholars believed that that this was the couple that was actually traveling on the road to Emmaus. Perhaps the discussion was was due to the fact that he is not mentioned at being at the foot of the cross. Maybe there's a discussion about that. He might have been in trouble. As a married man, I've been in trouble once or twice when we've had a discussion about it. So this is my Easter message for today, so I'm going to go with it. We got a couple. We got Cleophys and Mary, and they're walking to the road to Emmaus, and they're having a discussion. And in my mind, the discussion was why, how he was absent. And they're talking about the course of events and everything that transpired along the way.

The word that Luke uses here, say that they reasoned together — they re if you want to go back and look at that word, you can actually better translate it in today's language and say they were disputing. Now, to the married couples in the room: anybody ever disputed? Don't point fingers. I think the tension was there for a reason. And while they're doing that, this stranger comes up. And I love how Luke puts this very intriguing phrase there. It says, "But their eyes were restrained, so that they did not know him." I feel like they were so consumed in their conversation — they're so wrapped up in their discussion — that they don't even realize that someone has joined the walk. They were so busy, so focused, so self-focused, so self-centered in this moment, that they didn't realize they're not walking alone. Someone has joined the party. We don't know how long — we're not giving that information — that this stranger just seems to walk next to them. But eventually he asks a question, and we see this in verse number 17: "What kind of conversation is this that you have one another as you walk and are sad?" This question stuns them. It almost stops them in their tracks, as he asked, "What are you talking about? And why is what you're talking about causing your countenance to be so that you are sad?"

Verse number eighteen: "Then the one whose name was Khalifa Khalifus answered and said unto him, Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem, and have you not known the things which happened there these days?" Now, I don't know about you, but if you were to rate this question on the politeness meter, I don't think it would have been very high. Basically, he's like, "Have you been under a rock? Have you been missing it, man? How in the world do you not know what's going on? Haven't you paid attention to anything?" Now, I would have been i would have been so so happy to have been there for this exchange of conversation, because I would have loved it if Jesus would have been like, "You know, actually, I was there. That was the one hanging on the cross. Yeah, I caught the whole thing. I managed not to miss any of it." But he doesn't do that. What he does say — he does in a very polite way, and he says, "What things are you talking about? I want to know where you're at right now. I want to know what's your understanding about your story."

Verse number 19: "He said to them, What things? So they said to him, The things concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty indeed and word before God and all the people, and how the chief priests and our rulers delivered him to be condemned to death, and crucified him." Now, I want you to pay close attention to this next next verse, okay? Everybody with me? Verse 21: "But we were hoping that it was he who was going to redeem Israel." But we were hoping. I don't know about you, but you can feel it in the words on that page. There's disappointment here. Things haven't played out the way they thought it should have played out. Their story that they had built up in their mind, and how things were going to unfold, and how they have allowed themselves to be a little bit excited, and to the point that hope began to build inside of them, that this is the one, the very one, the Messiah, the one that they have been hearing stories about for generations now, that he was going to come and set things back right in order, the way things should be. That they were no longer going to have to deal with all the oppression and all the suffering and all the pain and all the heartache that they've been having to go through in their life. Their story was taking a turn for the better. They were hoping that he was the one. At the heart of the story are these words. And for you and I, if you've lived long enough at all, you know about those words: "I was hoping." All of us have either said it verbally or in our minds at least, that we were hoping things would be different. I was hoping to raise a great family and wonderful children and have a long life, but

the doctor told me — "I'd been hoping, and I had this great dream that I was going to do wonderful things, but I lost my job." "I've been hoping, and then this habit that I can't seem to shake has got me in its grip, and it's caused me to lose everything." "I had been hoping, but then he told me he doesn't love me anymore." "I've been hoping that — then our child ran down a road we never thought they'd run down." "We've been hoping that he was the one who was going to redeem and make things back the way it was supposed to be." We were hoping.

Has anybody ever hoped, only to come up disappointed? Has anybody ever had your story take a detour down a path you never intended to go? Is there anybody here who's hoped before? See, you need to know the story, because it's their story, and believe it or not, it's your story, and it's my story.

They had a story, that they were part of a people, a special people, the people of God, Israel. They were set aside. They were belonging to him. They had a calling. Their life was not just about themselves. They were living for something bigger than that. But now life had turned different. Things are not going the way that they used to go. There was no glory in Israel left. It was only suffering. Way back at the very beginning, they were in exile in Egypt, and slavery. And then it was just one oppressor after another: it was Syria, and Babylon, and Persia, and Greece, and now it was Rome. It was a story that seemed to have no end. It was just heartbreak and sorrow and pain and disappointment and failure, and heartache and sorrow and pain and disappointment and failure. And they were stuck in this cycle where there seemed to be no end.

But something happened, and they were hearing stories about this man who who talked differently, who seemingly had the ability to to to perform miracles, and lives had been changed. And the way he spoke, it gave them hope. It lit a flame inside of them, something they have not experienced yet in this life. And they begin to hope. They allowed themselves to buy in to what he was saying, that there was a new kingdom coming and things were different. And he seemed to go right at the very ones who were in charge of everything, the very ones who had caused there to be such distance between God and having a relationship with his people. Jesus came along, a prophet powerful in word indeed. A revolution seemingly was going on. He talked about good things, overthrowing oppression. He flipped the money tables over in the temple. He brought people back to life that were dead. He healed lepers. Blinded eyes were open. Deaf ears were unstopped. This man brought hope. Everything was going well.

But then, all of a sudden, everything went south within just a matter of a few days. He seemed to come in, in a triumphant way, riding on a donkey, and people were singing hosannas and dropping palm branches in front of him. It seems as though he could do no wrong. But somewhere, something happened, and it changed. And it happened so quickly, they were not even able to get their minds around it. Now we have a better understanding to know why they were so dejected.

It's tough sometimes, because you and I, we're on the other side of the story. If you've been around church or understand what we're doing here on this Easter Sunday, it's a victorious day. But they didn't understand this in their story. In that moment, it was not revealed to them. Just like there are times in our lives when we're going through things we don't understand. We simply know the moment we're living in. It's not a moment I want to be in. I'm on a road. I took a detour. I don't like how my story's unfolding. Things are not going the way I wanted them to go. I hoped. I had dreams. I had plans. All of these things were scripted out. But somewhere along the way, my hope has been robbed. It's been taken from me. So when I put it in that perspective, I think we have a better chance of you and I identifying with this couple in this moment, where they are, the conversation they're having.

See, to me, as they're walking back on on the road to Emmaus, this seven-mile stretch from Jerusalem, they're having to settle back into the old reality. What we'd hoped for was not going to come to pass. The things that we begin to allow ourselves to dream about, we've got to go ahead and pack those things back up again, because that's simply not going to happen anymore. And somewhere along this road of brokenness, the stranger comes up alongside them. They're so caught up in the heartache and disappointment of the moment, they don't even realize that somebody's joined in with them, walking along the way. It isn't until he asks the question: "Why are you so sad? What has transpired in your life that's allowed this to take place?" They didn't expect it. They were still overwhelmed. Jesus had died, died on the cross. They were reeling with the fact that it's not possible that he was the Messiah, because crucifixion is what Rome did to demonstrate to rebels who claimed to be a Messiah. They didn't know what to do.

Let me read in verse 22. They go on, and talking to the stranger, and say: "Yes, a certain woman of our company, who arrived at the tomb early, astonished us. When they did not find his body, they came saying that they had also seen a vision of angels who said he was alive. And certain of those who were here with us went to the tomb and found it just as the woman said, but him they did not see." They don't know what — there's not even a body now. They don't know what to make out of this. How do we handle, how do we process this? Everything seemingly is lost.

Then the stranger says in verse 25: "O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe." Can you just imagine this moment? That they're pouring their heart out. The stranger asks, "What's what s caused this sadness to you?" They begin to explain. They begin to to give it give a reason behind it. And then he answers in response, "Oh, foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe." That doesn't seem real polite. That doesn't seem — maybe he was going back to the guy that said, "Are you living under a rock?" I don't know. But in this moment, we have this very interesting exchange. They're pouring their hearts out, and he's basically saying, "Are you a couple of dim bulbs?" He's not insulting them. He's saying, "I want to interrupt for just a moment, and I want to explain what's happening."

Everybody has had their experience. Everybody, on one level or another, has had this kind of experience in your life, where things have not gone according to plan. We've all had dreams that didn't come to pass. We've all had detours in our life. We've all made mistakes. We've all had things done to us that we didn't ask for, but it just happened. This is their story, and it's our story too, because this is the story of broken humanity.

I read this quite recently about a couple, husband and wife. They've been married for 60 years. She had all of a sudden become gravely ill. And when they first got married, the lady had a shoe box at the top of her closet that she cost her husband to never ask or talk about. It was the only thing she ever did it too, and he respected it. He never asked about. A matter of fact, he just forgot about it, didn't even think about it anymore. But in order to sort out the affairs, because things were not looking good on her part, the old man took down the shoe box and took at his wife's bedside. She asked for it. She agreed that it was time for him, for her, to explain the the meaning of the shoebox. She's like, "I want you to open it up." And he opened it up, and he found two crochet dolls and a stack of money totally $95,000. He didn't know what to do. He's like, "Oh my goodness, you're gonna have to explain to me, what's this about?" And she said, "Well, when we got married, my grandmother gave me this advice. She told me the secret to keeping a happy marriage was to

never argue. And she told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just quietly crochet a doll." Little man, he's so moved in this moment. He's like, "There's only two dogs here. In 60 years of marriage, there's only been two times that you've been frustrated to me. I'm just so moved in this moment." He said, "That explains the dolls. But what about this stack of cash?" And she said, "Well, every time I finish the doll, I'd sell it at the craft fair for five dollars and put the money in the box."

See, I love that story, because that's the story of the human condition. That's humanity right there. We're all broken. We're all flawed. We're all imperfect people. We all need a Savior. You think you know your story, but you don't know your story. You don't know how it's going to turn out. You don't know what tomorrow holds. None of us do. None of us in this room — and the overwhelming majority of us here in this room, because the the kids are over there next door in kids' church. They're having a great time right now. They're not, they're not worried about the cares of this world. But in this room, most every one of us here have lived through a disappointment or two. We've lived through moments where things just didn't go the way it was supposed to go. Why? Because we're broken, flawed people.

For some, you wake up and say, "I'm in somebody else's story. I'm walking down the road I never thought I'd be on." It — because that's a human condition. What happens when you find out you'you ve been getting something wrong? Your story's not working right. Because here's a truth, here's — there's something that's a real reality: the life you lead will flow out of the story you're living, not out of the story you're dreaming. What life are you living right now? Oh, I i have as big imagination as anybody in the room. I have a big imagination, and I'm a dreamer, and I can lay down at night and I can push things away, and I can dream about a perfect scenario. But, but that goes away the moment my eyes open. What matters is the life I'm actually living.

Everybody has a story. Every story is looking for an ending. I wonder today: what is your story? What, what is your story? They had a story, but this stranger says to them, "You don't get it. You don't know the story yet. It's killing you because you don't know yet. So let me tell you the story." Remember, I'm talking about a couple, and to whom Easter came late.

Look at verse 25: "He said in them, oh foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe and all that the prophets have spoken! Ought not the Christ to have suffered these things and enter into his glory? In the beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded them all the scriptures of things concerning himself."

I don't know about you, but I would have loved to have been there for that conversation. I would have loved to have been there for the Master to tell the story that he had set in motion and orchestrated from the very beginning. To have the very one who spoke the world into existence to say, "Hey, let me tell you how I worked it out from the very beginning." Oh, if I could have been in any store in the Bible, I would have loved to have been there, that moment, to have him open the scriptures and say, "Let me show you what I was telling Moses, and how I worked with Abraham, and how the prophets were telling the story that I was going to suffer one day, and that all of those things came to fruition. And what you thought was a loss wasn't a loss. It was me purchasing the greatest victory that's ever been won in humanity." Oh, you thought the day was over, but I'm here to tell you life has just begun.

Why? Because the Bible tells a story about suffering. Suffering as old as our world, as old as pain and sin and death. But not just suffering — it tells a story of joy, joy that comes out of suffering, and joy that lives in suffering. At the heart of the story of God, upon whom all the weight of the world fell — this wounded world, this broken world, because the world has gone wrong. We all know this. We have different names for it, different ways we refer to it. The Bible simply calls it sin.

So God chose Israel as his select people. He says, "I want to have a group of people who come to know who I really am, who come to know what I want in life." And he would have a people called. And the prophets would paint a picture of peace, a picture of how things were intended to be from the beginning. But man took a detour. Man's story drifted off the page and was written in a way it was never intended to be. And because you and I, we're wired up this way, we feel like every story ought to work out.

You want to know why the Hallmark Channel's so popular? Is because they always get married. And some of you, you'll put it right on again: somebody comes from the big city to meet the guy or the girl in the country, some random farmer thing they do, and in the end we're like, "I just wonder how it's going to work out. I just wonder." Because they figured out that we like the story to end well. We do. That's what we want. And that's why it's so frustrating when our story is not going that well. Whether it's blaming ourself, or blaming others, or circumstances, or or blaming God: "If you would have just made me bigger, taller, shorter. If you just made my metabolism better. If you would have not made me follicly challenged" — something, I'll get that in a minute. We find ourselves thinking that when you have it all, when you make it to the top, when you succeed, when it works out, that'll justify your story. Because we love that. We love the story of the underdog. We love the story of, it should have never worked out, but it did. It gets to us. We like it. We root. We cheer. We do our best. Because that's us. That's us. That's what we know. It's us. It's our story.

But Israel had none of this. Their people suffered in exile. And from the beginning, they start out and they're facing all this stuff: slavery, abandonment. And their story is one of disappointment, and it's just simply a mess. And the Philistines, the Syrians, the Babylonians, the Persians, the Greeks, the Romans. But something's going on over generations. Something's going on over the centuries of suffering in exile. This little group of people — not so many, just simply a remnant — that maintains their faithfulness, yet it still keeps dwindling down, and dwindling down, and dwindling down. And from the beginning, there's this world, and there's this wonderful God who loves it so much. But it seems like he's turned his back. But he's turned his back because they haven't been faithful, and they haven't been obedient. And we see this great love story unfolding. And we're hoping against hope, because we identify with so many levels here. But it keeps boiling down to just one man. And this stranger says — now think about this — one man. What if the depth of his suffering confirms his identity, instead of disproving your hope? What if you're thinking about it in the only way you think it could end, but in fact there's a much greater thing at play?

What if, for a minute, you've taken a detour? And maybe it was your decision. Maybe it was your choice. Maybe it was you saying, "I'm going to go this way," only to realize you've gotten yourself an entrapped and entangled, ensnared into something. Or, or maybe you made one decision — it wasn't really that big a deal — but all of a sudden a snowball effect happened, and you found yourself on the wrong road, wondering what's going on. "Where's God? Does he not see me? Does he not know? Does he not care that I don't have any hope anymore? It's all gone. I don't know what to do. How do I handle this?"

He's there in this moment. He's talking to him and saying, "You think it's all lost. But what if the crucifixion is not Rome's defeat of Jesus, but it's God's defeat of evil and sin and guilt?" For he says, "Are not the Christ

who have suffered for these things, in order to enter glory?" What if all of history, the whole story, is squeezed down as small as one man, as small as the opening of a tomb? What if it's all boiled down and has come down to — the other side of a tomb is victory? What if it comes down to the fact that inside, they they begin to go crazy as he's talking, and they keep walking until they get to the end of the road? And they say to this stranger, "Sir, the day's almost gone. Will you please come inside and stay in lodge with us? Will you eat with us?"

And then something happens that caught my attention, in verse number 30: "That came to pass, as he sat at the table with him, that he took bread, blessed and broke it." Verse 31: "Then their eyes were opened, and they knew." And God spoke to me and said: there are some things you can only see through brokenness. I don't know who I'm reaching for today, in this room, on this Easter Sunday. I don't know who I'm reaching for. But somebody needs to know that sometimes you can only see how the end's going to come through the brokenness of life.

It's not for you and I to try to figure out why God would choose those things. It's been his story from the beginning. The humanity walked away from God. God didn't walk away from humanity. But God, in his perfect love, orchestrates his purpose and plan. Whether or not we choose the right path or not, he still will meet us on the road we're walking. He'll meet us in the circumstances that we're in. And I'm here to tell you: there'll come a moment, if you'll keep your heart and your mind open, that through the brokenness your eyes will open up and see that the whole time he's been with you. And what you thought was defeat wasn't defeat. It was God orchestrating your life back to where he wanted you to be. There are blessings in the brokenness.

Their eyes were open. He disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, "where our hearts not burning within us when he talked?" When you read those scriptures, the Word became alive. Then they saw. They saw the whole story of suffering. It all made sense in that moment. Easter came late. Others were getting it, but to them, it was on the road of disappointment. It was on the road of despair. It was on the road of accepting that my life's never going to be any different. I'm just going to have to be content with — I'm always stuck in the same old, same old. But I'm here to tell you: there's a God walking with you on that road today. And if you'll tune your ear into what he's saying to you, your victory is there in the brokenness. It's not that — it's not just that Jesus suffers, but it's also that Jesus triumphs. Jesus has triumphed over sin, triumphed over our guilt, triumphed over our failures, triumphed over our confusion. He has triumphed over our regret, and over our problems, and over our death. So that you, whatever road you're walking down, whatever darkness you're facing, whatever regret you may carry, it has been defeated on that cross. Sin — death does not get the last word, because that same Jesus who was crucified, Baron, did not stay crucified. He was raised up from the dead in the greatest act of power in human history. And when he was raised up, every hope, every heart, was raised up in him. For Christ is risen. He has risen indeed. And that's what they saw in that moment. All of a sudden, we see them turning back around and repeating the seven-mile trip back, because something burned inside of them. And they understood: "I'm not going back to my house and settling. I'm going to go back to Jerusalem and celebrate a victory that has been won."

Oh, for somebody to grab ahold of that on this Easter Sunday morning. As I get ready to bring this to a close today, as we see that Luke is telling this story here — it's a story that will change your story, if you'll let it.

At the beginning of the story in the Bible, there's a couple. Most everybody knows this story, story of Adam and Eve. It's where the whole story of sin gets unfolded. It was their story, but it became our story. On that day, they defied God. They decided, through their actions, to defy him, to live apart from God, to reject what he said. They did this by eating the fruit. Genesis 3, verse 6: "So when the woman saw the tree was good for food, and then it was pleasant to the eyes, and the tree desirable to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate. She also gave to her husband with her, and he ate." Verse 7 — listen, listen, this sounds familiar: "Then the eyes of both of them were open, and they knew they were naked." Look at the phrasing here. Their eyes were open, but it was a different opening. It wasn't what was going on the road to Emmaus. Instead, this was opening to see the separation that just took place. Because they had never felt shame — but the Word of God says there was shame. Brother Odom, shame came in, in that moment. They never experienced this. They didn't even know how to process this. The first thing they try to do is cover themselves up, because they're dealing with something that has never been dealt before in humanity.

But I love that our God didn't leave us just with the first Adam's actions. But there was a second Adam who came back to open the eyes again. And the second opening that I showed you in Luke 24 was an opening to see that victory had been purchased and won. Oh, I'm speaking to somebody today. I don't know what is being held by you. I don't know what has got you down, what is keeping you a change, what is holding you back, what decisions you've made, what disappointments you've lived in, what heartache you've went through, what regret you may have. I'm here to tell you: he is here to open your eyes, to show you you don't have to settle for a life that is less than, because he is a God of more. He is a God abundance. He is a God of victory. He is a God of the — this is our story. We don't have to live in exile. He's brought us out. There was a moment when he said, "It is finished." And what was finished is every sin, every disappointment, every failure, was nailed to his cross. And he was openly made ashamed of all the devil tried to do. He thought he had victory. Friday's disappointment was overcome by that Sunday empty tomb.

Generation after generation, and century after century, it is the human condition. Until one day this stranger came, and he lived among us, and he showed us that it was possible to live a perfect life, being filled with his Spirit. He didn't ask us to do one thing that he didn't first do. But he showed us that you can live a life well. Now you can see the suffering love of God and the hope of a Savior that has risen.

I'm going to leave them in Jerusalem. I'm going to leave them to finish telling their story. You can go finish it yourself in Luke 24. But as I close today: I don't know how it's going right now for you. I don't know where you are. Many of you I know, but many of you I don't. I know if you live long enough, you're going to suffer in ways you didn't see coming. There's going to be moments of confusion and disappointment, things you wonder, "How in the world did I get here?" You're going to wonder, "Where is God?" You're going to wonder, "Whose story am I living?" Because this was never what I set out to be. "I've been hoping, but I've been hurt. I get so anxious. I feel so alone. I feel so badly." Then you give in again. But one day this stranger came, and lived, and walked among us. He was here. He said things nobody ever said. He did things nobody ever done. He went to a cross, and it looked to all the world as if death — his was like any other, and that his story was over. But it turns out that when he was down on that cross, he was dying for you and me. He was bridging the gap

. We sing about that just a few minutes ago. He's bridging a gap that you and I couldn't bridge. He paid a price that I had no ability — there's no way, nor could you. And because he was Jesus, he just couldn't stay dead. And on the third day, he rose again. And there are these rumors and these whispers in our world every once in a while of a stranger coming alongside, where someone whispers and says, "Let me tell you another story of your life." And he's here today, in this room, on this Easter Sunday. He has another story for your life. You can be a part of the story this Easter, if you want it. It's your choice to make.

And if you're okay, I'm going to ask you to do something. I want to ask you to close your eyes, bow your heads, if you're comfortable. I know at this time on Easter there can be much activity and much business, but this is your moment. This is just between you and God, just to be real, just to be alone. I don't know your story. Your story may be going good. You may be doing well. You may be filled with gratitude right now. Everything may be going just the way you want it to. Maybe you're just overflowing with hope, and you want to let him know, "God, I'm so glad that I just have all this anticipation in my future with you." We're happy for you and thankful, and I'd ask, if that is your case right now, would you just just thank God for that?

But maybe your story has taken some turns you didn't think it would take. And maybe your heart's been bearing some hurts you didn't think you're gonna have to carry. And maybe there's been some roads you've walked down that you didn't ever dream you'd walk. I'm here to tell you: there's someone here today who has a different ending for your story. If you want to, you can be a part of this story, where you walk by faith, you can live to love, and you can die in grace, and you can be raised up forever, spend eternity with him. And if you want that to be your story, you can. Because from that day on that road in Emmaus to now, he has continued to change people's endings. He specializes in taking broken things and making them beautiful. So on this Easter Sunday, I pray that if you need that in your life, you would come and allow our risen Savior to rewrite your story.

Jesus, I'm so thankful that you are with us today. And I'm thankful that there's an empty tomb. We celebrate that victory, Lord, that you have given us. You purchased, you completed, you paid. But lot, I know in this room there's brokenness present. I feel it. I know it's here. Lord, I pray that you would give someone the courage to hope again, for the road they travel is a lonely one. Come alongside them and rewrite their story. In Jesus' name. It's prayer time. I'm declaring these altars are open. If you would like to come, you can come, because you have a thankful heart and you want to praise God for his faithfulness to you. You can come because you have a broken heart, and allow him to do a work that only he can do. But I wouldn't miss this moment on this Easter Sunday to drawing closer to him. It's prayer time, church.