Broken Promise
Stories
Lightly Goes the Good News
Scripture Stories For Reflection
"Life is a broken promise now that Jesus is dead," Cleo complained to his friend Eli as they walked on the road to Emmaus. "What's there to live for? Now everything has fallen apart." Twenty-five years earlier, Cleo had had such high hopes. "My future's promising," he had boasted. "It's looking great! I'm going to find me a good-looking gal. We'll get married, settle down, and have bright kids who'll really go places. And I'll own a business that will make me a mint." A promising future? That's what he thought twenty-five years ago. But now at age forty-five, it was a different story.
Cleo had gotten married but not to the girl of his dreams. True, she had pale blue eyes, ruby lips, and a winning smile, but she also had a nose bent just slightly to the left. She cooked a good meal, but she couldn't sew a button on a shirt if her life depended on it. She had a good ear for listening, but she wasn't much for talking. Humming was her long suit, but she sang with a twang.
As for their marriage, sometimes they'd chirp along, but just as often they'd growl. Smiling one day, they snarled the next. All in all the marriage wasn't bad, but Cleo had had such high hopes -- and now life seemed a broken promise.
And his children? The kids who'd eagerly listen to Mom and Dad's words of wisdom? The bright kids who were really going places? One was smart in math but dumb in spelling; the other was smart in spelling but dumb in math. They weren't bad-looking, but they had their mother's nose which bent just slightly to the left. As for listening to their parents' words of advice, they listened all right. Then they'd scratch their heads, shrug their shoulders, and do whatever they wanted. Both of them moved to the other side of town and worked in the local glue factory. It didn't take much to make them happy. But Cleo had had such high hopes for them, and now life seemed a broken promise.
And the promising career? Cleo owned and operated a bagel bakery. Not the smallest business in town, but not the biggest. His bagels weren't bad, but they weren't the best either. He made money, but not the mint he said he'd make. All in all, his was a modestly successful business. But Cleo had had such high hopes, and now life was passing by. It seemed a broken promise.
As if to prove that "there's no fool like an old fool," well into his forties Cleo got suckered in again. This time he pinned his high hopes on Jesus of Nazareth. "Surely he won't let me down," Cleo thought. "Jesus is the one. He's the wave of the future. He's our promise. A real winner! Here! His power base is here and he's going to drive the bully boys away. He'll make this a land of promise again and we'll be on the move." But the promised one was nailed to the tree and left to die a broken man. Hardly a winner and no one's future. Just another broken promise. And for Cleo, the last straw.
"I just don't understand," Cleo complained as he and his friend Eli walked the dusty road to Emmaus. "What went wrong? He wasn't supposed to die. That wasn't in the cards. Where's the winner we were promised? I'll tell you ... nowhere! Sure, a couple of women report he's alive but that's absurd, impossible!"
"May I join you?"
"Wha...?" Cleo and Eli turned to see a man walking a few feet behind. "May I join you? I don't like walking this road alone."
"Suit yourself," Cleo said. "We were just talking about Jesus of Nazareth."
"Oh? What about him?"
"You mean you haven't heard the news?"
"I've been away for three days."
"Well, he's not what we'd thought. Just another flash in the pan, another broken promise." And Cleo proceeded to tell the man all that had happened not only to Jesus, but to all the disappointments in his own life as well.
"Hmmm," the man stroked his chin. "Your story sounds vaguely familiar. About three years ago I was convinced that all of us -- my friends, the people I talked to, myself -- that we all had a promising future. Changes in our lives were to take place overnight. The day would dawn when people from all over would sit around one table and enjoy each other's company. We knew we'd have to overcome certain obstacles. But we'd win out! We'd triumph! Life seemed so promising!" The stranger paused.
"And?" Cleo waved a hand.
"Well ... not everyone shared our enthusiasm. In fact, some people were downright hostile! Even the friends we counted on most betrayed us." His voice grew raspy. "And worst of all, the one whose support and love I relied on most seemed to have abandoned me when I needed him most!"
"Really?" Both Cleo and Eli's eyes widened.
"Yes, when I was just hanging there, hurting, I said, 'Where are you when I need you?' And, you know, he said nothing. Nothing!"
"No kidding! So what did you do?" Eli asked.
"At first I thought, 'That's it! There goes the future! Promises, promises! Right out the window!' I felt wretched and in a lot of pain. But then I thought, 'So there's a change of plans. So it's not working out according to my expectations! I can't do anything about that. I'll just hang in there, wait, and trust it will all work out. What else can I do?' "
"And what happened?"
"I think I died."
"I know the feeling well," Cleo sighed.
"You what?" Eli was all in a muddle.
"I think I died," the stranger repeated, looking off into the distance.
"But ... you're here. How...?"
"I'm here but ... all I know is that the one whom I thought had abandoned me pulled me through. And now I'm alive in a new way. Even my friends aren't going to recognize me right away. It's a changed ball game, believe me! Just when you think, 'It's over. My life is just a heap of broken promises....' Surprise! Back alive in a way no one expected!"
"Hmmm, I never thought of it that way," Cleo said. Turning to the man he asked, "Have we met before? Your voice ... your smile...."
"Maybe I resemble someone you know."
"Could be. Could be," Cleo said, trying without success to recall who this engaging young man resembled. However they had reached Emmaus and the stranger told them he had to continue on his way. But Cleo and Eli persuaded him to join them at the bagel factory for a light lunch.
When they arrived, Cleo spread a white tablecloth over a work bench and placed on it a small loaf of bread, a carafe of wine, and three goblets. Once they sat down Cleo invited the stranger to do the honor of breaking the bread. Taking the bread into his hands, the man ran his fingers over the small loaf. "Nice texture! Did you bake it?"
"Yes," Cleo answered. "This morning."
"Ah, freshly risen," he whispered, "and it smells so good." No sooner had the stranger spoken the word "risen" than Cleo's heart began beating faster. He remembered the stranger's words about coming alive in a new way, and it struck Cleo how closely this man's experience paralleled Jesus' -- his hopes, his betrayal, his death, and now? Both Cleo and Eli's eyes were riveted on their guest as he broke the bread and shared the cup. When they had finished the meal the man said, "We know each other better now, don't we? I hope you will remember me whenever you break bread together."
"Yes," Cleo said softly. "We will." The stranger rose.
"It's time for me to go. I have much to do. I have many friends with whom I'll be breaking bread. Thank you for your hospitality. Please stay sitting. I'll let myself out." And the man left the house.
"It's him," Cleo whispered.
"I know," Eli said.
Cleo rose, went to the window, and watched the stranger as he disappeared over the horizon. "He's come back, Eli. He's come back!"
Reflection
"Hangin' in there" expresses how we are getting along: how we're handling a job; working through a relationship; doing in school. For some of us hangin' in is not particularly difficult. We're pretty confident that we'll do all right; we'll manage. However, for others, hangin' in there means being painfully helpless. We're not really sure if we'll survive a difficult time: a mid-life transition or the loss of a loved one. The pain of just hangin' in there can reveal just how broken we are in body, mind, and spirit.
The times of just hangin' in there are frequently dark and depressing, hardly times we'd expect to experience any light. Yet, as our story suggests, hangin' in can also mean trusting and waiting. We wait and wait. For what? For something new to develop. For a break through brokenness. For transformation. For new life.
Trusting and waiting doesn't mean that after a period of hangin' in there we finally figure a way out. It means we have reached an impasse and cannot find any way to stop hanging in. All we can do is trust that there is One who is with us as we hang, and that, as in Jesus' hanging and dying, this One will be with us.
Hangin' in there, then, is both a sign of our helplessness and the medium through which we can experience transformation from death to life, not because this has to happen but because we believe that the One who raised Jesus from the dead has promised it will happen.
As the medium of transformation, hangin' in there is paradoxically darkness and light; it is a blinding light. We do not see a way out of our predicament and because we are blind we wait in the dark to "see" in a new way. Is waiting itself the first necessary step we need to take to experience light in a new way?
Cleo had gotten married but not to the girl of his dreams. True, she had pale blue eyes, ruby lips, and a winning smile, but she also had a nose bent just slightly to the left. She cooked a good meal, but she couldn't sew a button on a shirt if her life depended on it. She had a good ear for listening, but she wasn't much for talking. Humming was her long suit, but she sang with a twang.
As for their marriage, sometimes they'd chirp along, but just as often they'd growl. Smiling one day, they snarled the next. All in all the marriage wasn't bad, but Cleo had had such high hopes -- and now life seemed a broken promise.
And his children? The kids who'd eagerly listen to Mom and Dad's words of wisdom? The bright kids who were really going places? One was smart in math but dumb in spelling; the other was smart in spelling but dumb in math. They weren't bad-looking, but they had their mother's nose which bent just slightly to the left. As for listening to their parents' words of advice, they listened all right. Then they'd scratch their heads, shrug their shoulders, and do whatever they wanted. Both of them moved to the other side of town and worked in the local glue factory. It didn't take much to make them happy. But Cleo had had such high hopes for them, and now life seemed a broken promise.
And the promising career? Cleo owned and operated a bagel bakery. Not the smallest business in town, but not the biggest. His bagels weren't bad, but they weren't the best either. He made money, but not the mint he said he'd make. All in all, his was a modestly successful business. But Cleo had had such high hopes, and now life was passing by. It seemed a broken promise.
As if to prove that "there's no fool like an old fool," well into his forties Cleo got suckered in again. This time he pinned his high hopes on Jesus of Nazareth. "Surely he won't let me down," Cleo thought. "Jesus is the one. He's the wave of the future. He's our promise. A real winner! Here! His power base is here and he's going to drive the bully boys away. He'll make this a land of promise again and we'll be on the move." But the promised one was nailed to the tree and left to die a broken man. Hardly a winner and no one's future. Just another broken promise. And for Cleo, the last straw.
"I just don't understand," Cleo complained as he and his friend Eli walked the dusty road to Emmaus. "What went wrong? He wasn't supposed to die. That wasn't in the cards. Where's the winner we were promised? I'll tell you ... nowhere! Sure, a couple of women report he's alive but that's absurd, impossible!"
"May I join you?"
"Wha...?" Cleo and Eli turned to see a man walking a few feet behind. "May I join you? I don't like walking this road alone."
"Suit yourself," Cleo said. "We were just talking about Jesus of Nazareth."
"Oh? What about him?"
"You mean you haven't heard the news?"
"I've been away for three days."
"Well, he's not what we'd thought. Just another flash in the pan, another broken promise." And Cleo proceeded to tell the man all that had happened not only to Jesus, but to all the disappointments in his own life as well.
"Hmmm," the man stroked his chin. "Your story sounds vaguely familiar. About three years ago I was convinced that all of us -- my friends, the people I talked to, myself -- that we all had a promising future. Changes in our lives were to take place overnight. The day would dawn when people from all over would sit around one table and enjoy each other's company. We knew we'd have to overcome certain obstacles. But we'd win out! We'd triumph! Life seemed so promising!" The stranger paused.
"And?" Cleo waved a hand.
"Well ... not everyone shared our enthusiasm. In fact, some people were downright hostile! Even the friends we counted on most betrayed us." His voice grew raspy. "And worst of all, the one whose support and love I relied on most seemed to have abandoned me when I needed him most!"
"Really?" Both Cleo and Eli's eyes widened.
"Yes, when I was just hanging there, hurting, I said, 'Where are you when I need you?' And, you know, he said nothing. Nothing!"
"No kidding! So what did you do?" Eli asked.
"At first I thought, 'That's it! There goes the future! Promises, promises! Right out the window!' I felt wretched and in a lot of pain. But then I thought, 'So there's a change of plans. So it's not working out according to my expectations! I can't do anything about that. I'll just hang in there, wait, and trust it will all work out. What else can I do?' "
"And what happened?"
"I think I died."
"I know the feeling well," Cleo sighed.
"You what?" Eli was all in a muddle.
"I think I died," the stranger repeated, looking off into the distance.
"But ... you're here. How...?"
"I'm here but ... all I know is that the one whom I thought had abandoned me pulled me through. And now I'm alive in a new way. Even my friends aren't going to recognize me right away. It's a changed ball game, believe me! Just when you think, 'It's over. My life is just a heap of broken promises....' Surprise! Back alive in a way no one expected!"
"Hmmm, I never thought of it that way," Cleo said. Turning to the man he asked, "Have we met before? Your voice ... your smile...."
"Maybe I resemble someone you know."
"Could be. Could be," Cleo said, trying without success to recall who this engaging young man resembled. However they had reached Emmaus and the stranger told them he had to continue on his way. But Cleo and Eli persuaded him to join them at the bagel factory for a light lunch.
When they arrived, Cleo spread a white tablecloth over a work bench and placed on it a small loaf of bread, a carafe of wine, and three goblets. Once they sat down Cleo invited the stranger to do the honor of breaking the bread. Taking the bread into his hands, the man ran his fingers over the small loaf. "Nice texture! Did you bake it?"
"Yes," Cleo answered. "This morning."
"Ah, freshly risen," he whispered, "and it smells so good." No sooner had the stranger spoken the word "risen" than Cleo's heart began beating faster. He remembered the stranger's words about coming alive in a new way, and it struck Cleo how closely this man's experience paralleled Jesus' -- his hopes, his betrayal, his death, and now? Both Cleo and Eli's eyes were riveted on their guest as he broke the bread and shared the cup. When they had finished the meal the man said, "We know each other better now, don't we? I hope you will remember me whenever you break bread together."
"Yes," Cleo said softly. "We will." The stranger rose.
"It's time for me to go. I have much to do. I have many friends with whom I'll be breaking bread. Thank you for your hospitality. Please stay sitting. I'll let myself out." And the man left the house.
"It's him," Cleo whispered.
"I know," Eli said.
Cleo rose, went to the window, and watched the stranger as he disappeared over the horizon. "He's come back, Eli. He's come back!"
Reflection
"Hangin' in there" expresses how we are getting along: how we're handling a job; working through a relationship; doing in school. For some of us hangin' in is not particularly difficult. We're pretty confident that we'll do all right; we'll manage. However, for others, hangin' in there means being painfully helpless. We're not really sure if we'll survive a difficult time: a mid-life transition or the loss of a loved one. The pain of just hangin' in there can reveal just how broken we are in body, mind, and spirit.
The times of just hangin' in there are frequently dark and depressing, hardly times we'd expect to experience any light. Yet, as our story suggests, hangin' in can also mean trusting and waiting. We wait and wait. For what? For something new to develop. For a break through brokenness. For transformation. For new life.
Trusting and waiting doesn't mean that after a period of hangin' in there we finally figure a way out. It means we have reached an impasse and cannot find any way to stop hanging in. All we can do is trust that there is One who is with us as we hang, and that, as in Jesus' hanging and dying, this One will be with us.
Hangin' in there, then, is both a sign of our helplessness and the medium through which we can experience transformation from death to life, not because this has to happen but because we believe that the One who raised Jesus from the dead has promised it will happen.
As the medium of transformation, hangin' in there is paradoxically darkness and light; it is a blinding light. We do not see a way out of our predicament and because we are blind we wait in the dark to "see" in a new way. Is waiting itself the first necessary step we need to take to experience light in a new way?
