Seven Miles Of Miracle
Drama
Women In The Wings
20 Biblical Monologues
Making It Preach
We are never told the identity of Cleopas' companion, so it could well have been his wife, sister, or daughter. This monologue makes that assumption, as well as placing her in the garden at the time of Jesus' arrest and in the room with Jesus' other disciples when he greets them with "Peace be with you." Jesus' return and explanation of his role as scriptural Messiah brings enlightenment to their minds, but not necessarily forgiveness for their unbelief. This sermon starter explores the naked awareness of sin that comes in the presence of Jesus' truth and how that evokes in his followers the desire to repent and come clean so that a new beginning is possible. No matter how far we wander down the road that leads away from trust in God, Jesus will reveal himself to us and offer us a new path. What we do about that makes all the difference.
Making It Play
A rumpled, dusty tunic, a head cover that could be falling off, and beat-up sandals would give the impression that she has just hurried over seven miles of dusty roads and fields. Yet, the adrenaline of not just the journey, but why she made the journey, keeps her from feeling any weariness -- she is actually quite keyed up. She needs to visibly see Jesus enter at a certain place above the heads of the congregation. She needs to hear his remarks in her head so that she may respond believably to him. She hangs her head when she makes her confession, perhaps even falls to the ground if she can do so and remain seen and heard by the congregation. His proclamation of love fills her with release from the guilt, slowly raising her head/body and spirit as she makes her final comments.
From The Road To Emmaus To The Room Of Skeptical Disciples
Seven miles there we walked, drooping heads and dragging feet.
But, seven miles we've returned, no more burdened with defeat!
"Such a journey!" you may think. "You didn't stay to rest a while?"
How could we sit or sleep: barely a thought, those seven miles?
It is here we need to be. It is you we need to see!
We're speaking puzzles, aren't we? Forgive such great to-do.
But, hearts so full and minds a-spinning sent us straight to you!
No thought was given to the telling, but the telling's why we're here.
We saw our Lord! There, we've said it! Let's back up and make it clear.
Jesus is alive and well. So, listen close to what we tell.
This morning, all looked gray. No excitement sparked our journey.
We went to visit family, to escape Jerusalem's churning.
To Emmaus we were bound, though we could hardly look ahead.
Thoughts still lingered on the prophet in a borrowed tomb, stone dead.
Our talk was all a jumble. Into a stranger, then, we stumbled.
In our apology, he saw our grief, and asked about the cause.
We knew he did not come from here! His question gave us pause.
What else would Jews discuss, whether friend or foe or neither?
The Galilean's trial was far more interesting than the weather!
Such ignorance in this man. I wanted him to understand.
So, I began to tell him of this man from Nazareth,
a prophet, wise in word and deed, who three days past had met his death.
Our priests and leaders were the ones who plotted out his downfall,
though we had hoped he'd be the one to redeem proud Israel.
He listened hard, then shook his head. We were startled when he suddenly said,
"Fools you are, and slow of heart to believe what the prophets spoke!
When you heard your scriptures read, did you think it all a joke?"
Having gotten our attention, he began, then, to offer
what the law and the prophets said, how the Messiah was to suffer.
So much hidden; now, we know. He showed us how it all was so.
He gave us much to ponder as we wandered down that road.
When we reached our destination, he bid farewell and turned to go.
But, we couldn't let him leave and face the dangers of the dark.
"Stay with us, tonight. Sup and rest before you start."
So, he joined my cousins' family. Astounding things, we soon would see!
The meal was being cleared away when the three of us stepped in.
Then, our feet washed, my cousin brought a loaf for us to begin.
When I moved to break the bread and divide it on our plates,
our guest reached across the table, touched my arm and told me, "Wait.
To your hospitality, I make a toast. Let me, now, become the host."
Our thirst satisfied with wine, the loaf he lifted up.
He gave thanksgiving to our God for the bread on which to sup.
Then, he broke the bread, amazing this, and handed me a piece.
As I took the bread, our fingers touched, and I was filled with peace
that passes understanding. Then, I saw his presence, so commanding.
How we missed it before, we do not know, but we surely saw it then.
This stranger's face became familiar, he looked just as he had when
we took the Passover together there in the upper room.
How could it be? Wasn't he lying dead in some cold tomb?
His face said, "No." His eyes smiled, "Yes." How he got there, we could not guess.
But, it was him. Of that, I'm sure. Though, once we recognized him,
he disappeared. He -- poof! -- was gone; the thin air just disguised him
and swallowed him up. We wished he'd stayed and talked with us a while,
but since he'd gone, we knew that we must cross these seven miles.
A miracle is what we saw. Only a miracle would explain it all!
I know what it is you're thinking; we're tired, with grief raw,
but none of that can completely explain the things we saw.
It was more than mere sight; it was vision so deep.
When he spoke of the scriptures, we followed like sheep.
Wisdom woke us with a start, and soon those words burned in our hearts.
Dead we were, our spirits slain. Through this teaching, we revived.
So, that moment in the broken bread was less of a surprise
than the completion of a process, a confirmation of the dream.
What the women said before was true! With joy, I had to scream!
I woke the children; scared the horse. But, that doesn't really matter, of course!
So, here we stand, dust head to toe, but sure that it's all true.
He did not leave us, never will. Soon we'll know what we're to do.
Mary, Joanna, Salome, to all of you we apologize.
Your bravery, I do commend. You surely knew we'd close our eyes.
Foolish lies, we thought you'd told. But faithful to him, you were bold!
That's more than I can say for us. From Gethsemane, we ran.
And so did you, and you, and you. You weren't there at the end.
Yet, we're here, now. Together again. I don't know what that means,
except we knew there was something more before we'd seen these things.
Yes, we're thrilled that he's alive. But, what comes next, will we survive?
I'm talking crazy. I'm up and down, emotions bright and dark.
The truth is right before us and the light it shines is stark.
If he rose, as he said, then all that he said and did must be true!
Anointed one, and Son of God -- yet, we're human through and through.
Seven miles of miracle we've crossed. But, one step more and I would be lost.
Well, I suppose we could clean up, so our company you'll stand.
Is there water here? Oh, yes, I see. Wait up, I'll give you a hand.
I need to wash, to feel the wetness take away the grime.
Would that mere water could cleanse the sin of abandoning him that time!
When I see him come again, I know, I must confess to be made whole.
What? My Lord, you're here again. You see, he's here. It's true!
Oh, yes, O Christ, you bring us peace. Peace be with you, too.
Huh? Of course we all believe. We're stunned, but we rejoice!
Fish, you want? Then, fish you'll have. (to another) Go on, you hear his voice.
But, first, there's something I must say. I ran, when they took you away.
I ... yes, I see. It's no surprise. You know my cowardice.
All I can say is "I repent!" But, do you know what I wish?
I wish I could replay that night and let them take me, too.
Then, there would be one, if only one, who walked that road with you.
Instead, you walked our road today. Why is it that you came our way?
(pause to hear his assurance)
So, love it is, a love so real you'd walk that road again.
Despite our sin, you love us still, and count us all as friends.
O gracious Lord, I humbly bow my heart to your command.
Never will I run again. With you, I die or stand.
Now, I'd best reign in my tongue, so you can tell us why you've come.
We are never told the identity of Cleopas' companion, so it could well have been his wife, sister, or daughter. This monologue makes that assumption, as well as placing her in the garden at the time of Jesus' arrest and in the room with Jesus' other disciples when he greets them with "Peace be with you." Jesus' return and explanation of his role as scriptural Messiah brings enlightenment to their minds, but not necessarily forgiveness for their unbelief. This sermon starter explores the naked awareness of sin that comes in the presence of Jesus' truth and how that evokes in his followers the desire to repent and come clean so that a new beginning is possible. No matter how far we wander down the road that leads away from trust in God, Jesus will reveal himself to us and offer us a new path. What we do about that makes all the difference.
Making It Play
A rumpled, dusty tunic, a head cover that could be falling off, and beat-up sandals would give the impression that she has just hurried over seven miles of dusty roads and fields. Yet, the adrenaline of not just the journey, but why she made the journey, keeps her from feeling any weariness -- she is actually quite keyed up. She needs to visibly see Jesus enter at a certain place above the heads of the congregation. She needs to hear his remarks in her head so that she may respond believably to him. She hangs her head when she makes her confession, perhaps even falls to the ground if she can do so and remain seen and heard by the congregation. His proclamation of love fills her with release from the guilt, slowly raising her head/body and spirit as she makes her final comments.
From The Road To Emmaus To The Room Of Skeptical Disciples
Seven miles there we walked, drooping heads and dragging feet.
But, seven miles we've returned, no more burdened with defeat!
"Such a journey!" you may think. "You didn't stay to rest a while?"
How could we sit or sleep: barely a thought, those seven miles?
It is here we need to be. It is you we need to see!
We're speaking puzzles, aren't we? Forgive such great to-do.
But, hearts so full and minds a-spinning sent us straight to you!
No thought was given to the telling, but the telling's why we're here.
We saw our Lord! There, we've said it! Let's back up and make it clear.
Jesus is alive and well. So, listen close to what we tell.
This morning, all looked gray. No excitement sparked our journey.
We went to visit family, to escape Jerusalem's churning.
To Emmaus we were bound, though we could hardly look ahead.
Thoughts still lingered on the prophet in a borrowed tomb, stone dead.
Our talk was all a jumble. Into a stranger, then, we stumbled.
In our apology, he saw our grief, and asked about the cause.
We knew he did not come from here! His question gave us pause.
What else would Jews discuss, whether friend or foe or neither?
The Galilean's trial was far more interesting than the weather!
Such ignorance in this man. I wanted him to understand.
So, I began to tell him of this man from Nazareth,
a prophet, wise in word and deed, who three days past had met his death.
Our priests and leaders were the ones who plotted out his downfall,
though we had hoped he'd be the one to redeem proud Israel.
He listened hard, then shook his head. We were startled when he suddenly said,
"Fools you are, and slow of heart to believe what the prophets spoke!
When you heard your scriptures read, did you think it all a joke?"
Having gotten our attention, he began, then, to offer
what the law and the prophets said, how the Messiah was to suffer.
So much hidden; now, we know. He showed us how it all was so.
He gave us much to ponder as we wandered down that road.
When we reached our destination, he bid farewell and turned to go.
But, we couldn't let him leave and face the dangers of the dark.
"Stay with us, tonight. Sup and rest before you start."
So, he joined my cousins' family. Astounding things, we soon would see!
The meal was being cleared away when the three of us stepped in.
Then, our feet washed, my cousin brought a loaf for us to begin.
When I moved to break the bread and divide it on our plates,
our guest reached across the table, touched my arm and told me, "Wait.
To your hospitality, I make a toast. Let me, now, become the host."
Our thirst satisfied with wine, the loaf he lifted up.
He gave thanksgiving to our God for the bread on which to sup.
Then, he broke the bread, amazing this, and handed me a piece.
As I took the bread, our fingers touched, and I was filled with peace
that passes understanding. Then, I saw his presence, so commanding.
How we missed it before, we do not know, but we surely saw it then.
This stranger's face became familiar, he looked just as he had when
we took the Passover together there in the upper room.
How could it be? Wasn't he lying dead in some cold tomb?
His face said, "No." His eyes smiled, "Yes." How he got there, we could not guess.
But, it was him. Of that, I'm sure. Though, once we recognized him,
he disappeared. He -- poof! -- was gone; the thin air just disguised him
and swallowed him up. We wished he'd stayed and talked with us a while,
but since he'd gone, we knew that we must cross these seven miles.
A miracle is what we saw. Only a miracle would explain it all!
I know what it is you're thinking; we're tired, with grief raw,
but none of that can completely explain the things we saw.
It was more than mere sight; it was vision so deep.
When he spoke of the scriptures, we followed like sheep.
Wisdom woke us with a start, and soon those words burned in our hearts.
Dead we were, our spirits slain. Through this teaching, we revived.
So, that moment in the broken bread was less of a surprise
than the completion of a process, a confirmation of the dream.
What the women said before was true! With joy, I had to scream!
I woke the children; scared the horse. But, that doesn't really matter, of course!
So, here we stand, dust head to toe, but sure that it's all true.
He did not leave us, never will. Soon we'll know what we're to do.
Mary, Joanna, Salome, to all of you we apologize.
Your bravery, I do commend. You surely knew we'd close our eyes.
Foolish lies, we thought you'd told. But faithful to him, you were bold!
That's more than I can say for us. From Gethsemane, we ran.
And so did you, and you, and you. You weren't there at the end.
Yet, we're here, now. Together again. I don't know what that means,
except we knew there was something more before we'd seen these things.
Yes, we're thrilled that he's alive. But, what comes next, will we survive?
I'm talking crazy. I'm up and down, emotions bright and dark.
The truth is right before us and the light it shines is stark.
If he rose, as he said, then all that he said and did must be true!
Anointed one, and Son of God -- yet, we're human through and through.
Seven miles of miracle we've crossed. But, one step more and I would be lost.
Well, I suppose we could clean up, so our company you'll stand.
Is there water here? Oh, yes, I see. Wait up, I'll give you a hand.
I need to wash, to feel the wetness take away the grime.
Would that mere water could cleanse the sin of abandoning him that time!
When I see him come again, I know, I must confess to be made whole.
What? My Lord, you're here again. You see, he's here. It's true!
Oh, yes, O Christ, you bring us peace. Peace be with you, too.
Huh? Of course we all believe. We're stunned, but we rejoice!
Fish, you want? Then, fish you'll have. (to another) Go on, you hear his voice.
But, first, there's something I must say. I ran, when they took you away.
I ... yes, I see. It's no surprise. You know my cowardice.
All I can say is "I repent!" But, do you know what I wish?
I wish I could replay that night and let them take me, too.
Then, there would be one, if only one, who walked that road with you.
Instead, you walked our road today. Why is it that you came our way?
(pause to hear his assurance)
So, love it is, a love so real you'd walk that road again.
Despite our sin, you love us still, and count us all as friends.
O gracious Lord, I humbly bow my heart to your command.
Never will I run again. With you, I die or stand.
Now, I'd best reign in my tongue, so you can tell us why you've come.
