Walker

Last weekend, I was back in my hometown and spent Sunday morning with my dad and step mom at church. The service opened with the 5-6 year old kids singing, “The B-I-B-L-E (Yes, That’s The Book For Me!)” on stage. And, in typical little kid fashion, most of them sang out of sequence, forgot the words, were clapping off beat or simply looking at the "Jumbotron" while their teachers tried to coax them through the song.

And as it happens with 5-6 year olds singing out of sequence, forgetting the words and clapping off beat, everyone in the audience was smiling. Parents were waving at their little performer and grandparents’ eyes welled up with tears. And, ok sure, I’m a sucker for little kids singing and clapping so I dug it, too. When they ending their arousing rendition of “B-I-B-L-E” the kids walked off the platform. Most of them waved to their parents and I, along with the rest of the congregation, gave them their due applause.

But then, I saw “her”. And as I write this, I still get chills.

See, as all the other kids were happily bounding off the stage, one little girl was hobbling towards the edge of the platform where her teacher brought out her walker, her child-sized walker. Dressed in her “Sunday best”, I hadn’t seen her leg braces before because they were hidden by the kids standing in front of her. But now there she was, teetering back and forth just to go a few feet to get to her walker. And my heart just went out to her (still does). And even though all the other kids had run off the stage and were no doubt half way to enjoying milk and donuts in their classroom, her teacher was there – right beside her – step by every slow, arduous step.

And for that, for her, I found myself clapping even louder.

Now for a lot of us, we’re like that those other kids. We’re a little off sequence, don’t get the words right half the time and find ourselves just kind of staring around looking for some kind – any kind – of guidance.

But then (and here comes the heavy part) there are the times when we’re the little girl with the leg braces. We’re having trouble “walking” on our own. It’s painful. It’s exhausting. Grueling. And it’s unfair because everyone else is out there running and jumping and here we are just trying to make it one more step. And then another. And maybe another. And we can’t even look at how far we have to walk or we wouldn’t even try.

But here’s the thing, you don’t have to. Not in Christ.

In the book of Luke (24: 13-35) we find the account of Jesus and the Road to Emmaus. Go ahead, crack open your own B-I-B-L-E and read it for yourself. The account is about two of Jesus’s followers who are walking to Emmaus after his Crucifixion and they are completely devastated, broken-hearted and numb. A “stranger” begins walking with them as they travel. Along their seven-mile route, the two disciples of Christ speak with this stranger about Jesus, who He was, what He did and about their pain of the loss of their Teacher.

Upon arriving to the small town, they ask their new acquaintance to stay for dinner and shortly afterward, the stranger leaves. It’s then and only then that they recognized that it was in fact Jesus walking with them the whole time. They didn’t see Him. They didn’t recognize it as Him until He left. But it was Him, walking with them, step by every slow, arduous step on their journey.

Because like any good Teacher, He’s walking with you in the hard times, running with you in the good, but always....always...right there stride for stride. Not just for a few steps or even a couple miles, but throughout your entire journey.

So here’s the challenge: Welcome Jesus into more of your own walk this week and see what happens. Just welcome Him. And see if your steps aren’t a little easier, a little lighter, and your journey isn’t a little better. Each step along the way.