19 April 2026, Luke 24:13–34, The Unfinished Eulogy

Good morning, everyone. Welcome to you all on this second Sunday of Easter. After Jesus was resurrected, his first words to his disciples saying, 'Peace be with you.' So, let’s share that same peace with those sitting around us today. 'Peace be with you.

I have to start today on a bit of a heavy note. About a month ago, I received a prayer request from Melbourne. A dear friend and colleague of mine, had suffered a heart attack and was fighting for his life in ICU. His wife is also a minister serving in the Uniting Church over there. We heard that he was slowly recovering, beginning to regain day by day but sadly, just after Easter, the Lord called him home.

He was still quite young, that alone was heartbreaking enough. But what truly broke my heart was something else: his only son was set to get married next month. The father, who should have been there to cheer the loudest on his son’s happiest day, passed away just one month before the wedding. And he didn't make it.

I watched the Funeral Service on a livestream. As I watched his son stood up… to give the eulogy, I was in tears from beginning to end. My heart just went out to him; I could feel his pain through the screen.

As immigrants, moments like these are twice as hard. We don’t always have our extended family and friends right here beside us. But I was so grateful to see the church community step in. Members of his men’s choir were there, singing with such love and respect for him. It was truly a beautiful sight.

Now, don’t get the wrong idea! It’s just that whenever I come back from a funeral, I return as a much better version of myself—a kinder dad and a more loving husband. The only trouble is the effect only lasts for about three days. I think, I mentioned before.

Standing before something sacred like death, I'm reminded to be humble. I'm reminded that we don't have nearly enough time. We don't have forever to love each other well. We don't have enough time to truly understand each other, to help one another, or to be as generous as we should be.

Listening to the eulogies from family and friends, we hear stories we never knew.  We get to see a life, the whole of it, from the outside. And in the stillness, it quietly turns the mirror back on our own lives. I think that might be the final gift the dead offer to the living

Here's something I've noticed, and I find it genuinely interesting. In Korean tradition, they don’t really have a formal 'eulogy' during the service. The first time I attended an Australian funeral, I thought, "This is remarkable.", It was such a fresh, moving experience for me.

It made me wonder: Why don't they do this? I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why this is I believe grieving and remembering don't typically happen in a ten-minute speech. Instead, they happen organically over three days of just being together. The food keeps coming, and guests keep flowing in and out. Staying paying their respects before they leave.

The eulogy isn't missing; it's just spread out over three full days of shared meals and long nights at the Funeral home. Staying for a long time is a sign of a deep and close relationship.

For them, for the people in that culture, presence itself is the eulogy. It’s not about what is said, but about who is standing there with you.

Here in Australia, a eulogy is a beautiful tapestry of memories. People tell stories the real ones. The funny ones. The slightly embarrassing ones that remind us we are human family holidays, unique character, and making the whole room laugh one minute and cry the next.

You hear people say: 'You were a good dad, mum, grand.. and I’m so grateful.' 'You will always be someone I treasure.' 'I’ll see you again in heaven.' 

Yes, there is grief. Deep grief. But there is also this profound gratitude and a bittersweet longing. It’s all woven together into a single, beautiful moment of tribute.

But if I were to imagine a typical Korean-style eulogy? It would sound very different and interesting. It would probably go like this: 'I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more for you. I’m sorry I didn't love you enough. I regret not taking you on that trip we talked about.'

Can you feel the difference? In that culture, the most common words are 'I'm sorry' and 'I regret.'

But here is the secret: Their 'I'm sorry' at a funeral isn't really an apology. It’s not about having done something wrong or being a bad person.

It’s simply how they say, 'I love you so much, and I miss you deeply.' It is another language of love a language that expresses the heart's longing to have given even more.

Here is why I’m telling you all this. Because I believe that long, seven-mile walk to Emmaus was their eulogy.

We usually read those two disciples as just being disappointed or scared. We think they’re running away because their 'plan'… failed and they don't want to get arrested. That’s all true. But when I read it …through my own experience…. through my own emotional DNA—I hear something deeper underneath. I hear them saying, 'I’m sorry' I hear regret.

So picture this. They are walking to Emmaus. literally heading downhill, as Emmaus lies lower than Jerusalem. Their feet are moving, but it feels as though the road is simply dragging them along. With Jerusalem behind them in the East, they are walking West, straight into the sunset. And that sunset, no matter how beautiful it was…must have felt like watching the Light of the World slowly fade to dark.

The bible says they were talking about 'everything that had happened.' I wonder what.. that conversation actually sounded like. 'He was praying so hard in the garden that night... and we just slept. ''When they came to arrest him... I just ran. I didn't even look back.''He spoke from the cross... and I wasn't there to hear it.'

Fear, yes. But they are saying 'we should have.' We should have stayed. We should have done more. We should have been there. We should have been loved.  That silent self-blame is what made every single step feel like lead.

Right then, someone comes alongside them. And then he does something extraordinary. He lets them pour it all out. I absolutely love this scene—Jesus, perhaps hearing their talking, walking with a quiet smile to himself. Because their eyes were kept from recognizing him, he asks them, "What are you discussing together?" Now, did he ask because he didn't know? Of course not. Jesus wasn't looking for information. He was asking for their hearts. Without drawing attention, he begins to open the scriptures to them. All those words they'd heard before. He lets them see it all again—this time, through resurrection eyes. And this is the verse at the heart of today's passage: "Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the scriptures to us?" (Luke 24:32)

Jesus set their hearts on fire. That burning heart made them turn around and go back to Jerusalem!. They moved from the place where the sun was setting, back to where the sun rises. A downward slope to suddenly started heading upward.

'It’s all over,' they began to burn with a new realization: 'No, not yet.'

I believe the message for us, as Easter people in 2026, is exactly this: 'Heart on Fire.' All the love we couldn't give, the moments we missed the places we failed to stand, our pain, and our mistakes—Jesus covered all of it…. with his perfect love on the cross.

Because of that, our story doesn’t end with being 'sorry.' It becomes a story that restarts through his love.

Didn't our hearts burn within us? Can we feel that? Can we feel the fire?

But I have to be honest with you today. Lately, this beautiful Emmaus story has started to feel scary to me. The phrase 'Heart on Fire' actually frightens me. Why? Because throughout human history, we’ve seen too many people with hearts on fire. Some people’s hearts burned, and they returned to Jerusalem to share peace and good news.

But others? Their hearts burned, and they started wars. Some used that fire to embrace their neighbours, while others used it to judge and crush them.

Even today, we see so many Christians with 'burning hearts.' But with that same fire, some build peace the way Jesus did, while others try to force their own version of 'peace' through power and dominance. These are two completely different stories, heading in opposite directions.

We are all witnessing terrifying scenes around the world right now. Many are driven by a heat they believe is holy. I don’t even know where it all started to go so wrong.

I see this tension with my own eyes. Just recently, I was invited to an event called 'Awaken Adelaide,' happening on April 30th at the Uniting College. The theme is 'Intercultural Leadership and Interfaith Dialogue.' And what truly caught my eye was the keynote speaker, Professor Won-young Son, who is visiting us all the way from Korea.

So the Synod invited the local Korean Christian community to this event. But then, something unexpected happened. A few ministers decided to boycott the lecture!!, labelling… he is a 'religious pluralist.' The criticism spread quickly, and I even received some 'well-intended advice', unspoken pressure, really, suggesting that I shouldn't associate myself with him.

I was curious. So, I looked into his story. I found an incident from 2016. That year, a devout Christian set fire to a Buddhist temple in Korea. He did it with a burning heart, convinced he was fighting idolatry. The church split over it; some actually cheered him on, while others felt he went too far.

In the midst of that chaos, Professor Son did something incredibly brave. He stood up on behalf of the church. He went to the Buddhist community, knelt down, and apologised. He even organised fundraising to help restore what had been destroyed.

People got angry right away.. Ultra-conservative, groups accused him of defending Buddhism or trying to merge religions. Most churches watched in silence or joined the stones being thrown. But ironically, it was the Buddhist community who said this: 'Because of people like Professor Son, we still have hope that Christianity can grow and be respected.'

I sat with that for a long time. The man who burned the temple? His heart was on fire. The man who knelt and apologised? His heart was on fire, too. Both were burning. But the fire went in completely different directions.

This is question what we ask to ourselves, where is our fire pointed?

On Easter morning, when Jesus appeared to His disciples, the very first thing He said was: 'Peace be with you.' To people with burning hearts, hearts scorched by regret and fear, that was His first word.

It wasn’t a peace won through force. It wasn’t a peace that defeated the other side. It was the peace of the cross. The peace that comes through humility, through sacrifice, and through going first.

Our hearts are burning. But where is that fire going? We keep coming back to the simplest question we know: What would Jesus do? What would Jesus do with this burning heart toward the person standing right next to me? Toward the person who thinks differently from me? What would Jesus do with this fire toward those who have hurt us?

When the two disciples left Emmaus with burning hearts, they didn't go somewhere safe. They were still afraid, but something was burning in them that was bigger than that fear. So they went back to Jerusalem. And when they got there, they didn't fight. They gathered. They shared. They testified. They were simply together.

As we go from this place today, as Easter people in 2026, remember this: The eulogy of Jesus is not over. A eulogy is usually the final word for someone who has passed away. But our Master is alive! This means His story is still being written, and you and I are the ones called to tell it. We live a journey of speaking His eulogy through our very lives.

And in that journey, in the direction where our hearts begin to burn, Jesus Christ is there. He is not just the subject of our story; He is in our courage, and He is in our peace.

Fire can burn things down, or fire can warm things up. That choice is the resurrection task given to each of us today as we walk out those doors.

May our burning hearts! filled with the way of Jesus! bring warmth to this world. Because the eulogy is not over. Let us continue to share His eulogy through our love, peace.

Amen.

May the peace of the Risen Christ, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God.

May the Lord’s personal favor rest upon each of you—blessing your homes, guiding your unique paths, and granting you the strength you need for every task this week.

As you go, may your hearts burn not with a fire that destroys, but with the fire of the Holy Spirit that warms the cold and heals the broken. Go and be a living eulogy of His love.

And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be among you and remain with you always. Amen