Triumphant Jubilation

One spring day, two men walked a dusty road near Jerusalem. As they traveled, they talked about recent events. Just one week earlier had been a glorious day. The Messiah had entered Jerusalem in triumph. A great multitude had greeted him, spreading palm fronds and clothes on the road before him. In that moment the long-promised deliverance of Israel seemed at hand.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of activity. The cleansing of the temple. Wonderful days of teaching—parables and prophecy and confounding the Pharisees. The Passover. Then the unimaginable: betrayal. Arresting officers in the night. A trial before the chief priests. Hearings before Pilate and Herod. And suddenly the throng that had joyfully welcomed the Savior on Sunday had vanished and the crowds before Pilate were not singing Jesus’ praise but chanting for his death. A murderer was released, a sentence decreed. Scourging, the cruel burden of the cross, the road to Calvary, the nails, the mocking of the soldiers, the taunting of the Jews. The vinegar, the spear, the earthquake, the veil of the temple. Death.

How had it happened? How had things turned so quickly from triumph and shouts of hosanna to death and shouts of derision? What had happened to the Deliverer? He was the One who was to give them liberty, but now He was in a tomb. Or at least He had been, but now some women had visited the tomb and found it empty.

As the two men walked, their heads swirled in confusion and wonder.

A stranger joined them. “What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another,” he asked, “as ye walk, and are sad?” (Luke 24:17).

Surprised that he could be unaware of the last week’s events, they recounted the reason for their melancholy bewilderment. In response, the stranger began to teach them from the scriptures, recounting prophecies of Moses and others. “Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory?” he asked (Luke 24:26).

Soon they approached their destination. The stranger would not be stopping but would travel further. But the two invited him to stay with them, pointing out that the day was spent. He consented and joined them for their evening meal, and “he took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him” (Luke 24:30-31).

It was Him! They had been walking and talking with the risen Lord. He who was dead was alive again! Suddenly things fit. Confusion was gone. Despair was replaced with exultant jubilation. “Did not our heart burn within us,” they said to each other, “while he talked with us by the way?” (Luke 24:32).

The darkness of Friday, when the Savior hung upon the cross, was banished by the brilliant light of Sunday. The triumph returned. He was the Messiah. He had, indeed, come to deliver Israel—not from Roman bonds but from a servitude much more fearsome, the slavery of sin and death. And in one tumultuous, confusing week, while disciples watched the apparent unraveling of their fondest hopes, the Holy One of Israel carried out a plan of deliverance they could not see.

But now they saw, and illuminating joy filled their troubled souls. He who was dead was alive again. He was, indeed, triumphant. And because of Him, so are we.