We Had Hoped – When the Heart Shuts Down but the Eyes Stay Open
They said to him, “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel…” (Luke 24:21).
These words were not just a comment, but they were a cry from the heart, a quiet cry that many of us have whispered at some point in life.
“We had hoped…”
It is the language of disappointment, of tired prayers, and of faith that once burned brightly, but now flickers low.
These two disciples were walking the road to Emmaus after seeing their world collapse. Jesus, their Master and friend, the one they believed was sent by God, had been crucified. Just like that. All their dreams of a better world, a new kingdom, a Messiah who would make everything right, were buried in a tomb.
And so they walked away, not just from Jerusalem, but from hope.
They had heard reports that Jesus’ tomb was empty and some women said he had risen, but these disciples didn’t believe. They couldn’t, why? because “we had hoped…” And now they couldn’t bear to hope again.
Have you ever felt this ?
We had hoped the sickness would be healed.
We had hoped the job would last.
We had hoped the child would return.
We had hoped the marriage would change.
We had hoped the loneliness would go.
We had hoped…
But nothing changed, or sometime worsed, things got harder. And like those two on the road, we too walk with eyes open but hearts shut. We continue with life, eat, work, and speak, even pray, but something inside has quietly closed.
Let me tell you a story.
A mother once sat every evening outside a small mission chapel in a dusty village. Her young son had been missing for over two years. People had told her, “He’s probably gone, lost forever.” The police had stopped the search. But this mother came every evening, lit a candle, and sat on the last bench. She didn’t say many words. She didn’t cry. She just sat there, as if waiting for something.
One evening, a boy came walking down the road. Thin, tired, frightened. He saw the candlelight inside and stepped in. The mother turned slowly, there was silence. Then the boy whispered, “Amma…”
It was her son.
Later someone asked the mother, “How did you keep coming all these days without giving up?”
She said, “I had no strength to search anymore, but I could still sit. And I thought, even if I had no hope left, I would at least be here if he came. I had hoped…. then I stopped hoping, but I kept sitting.”
That’s where Jesus meets us, in the sitting, in the walking, in the silence and some time in te day today activities of our lives.
In the Gospel passage, Jesus walks beside the two disciples, not when they are strong, but when they are confused and lost. He listens, He lets them say those painful words: “We had hoped…”
And slowly, their hearts begin to burn again. Later, in a small act, the breaking of bread, their eyes are opened. They recognise him. Not in a miracle, not in a loud voice, but in something simple, intimate, familiar in the breaking of the bread.
This is how God often comes to us. Not through lightning or sudden answers, but quietly, beside us in our sorrow, walking with us, waiting until we are ready to see.
If your heart has grown tired, if your prayers feel dry, don’t be afraid. Speak your disappointment. Say, “I had hoped…” Jesus listens. He still walks with you.
And when the moment is right, in a Mass, in a face, in a word, your eyes too will open. You will see that He never left your side.
“Lord, even when I lose hope, let me never lose you.”
