On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, when it was customary to sacrifice the Passover lamb, Jesus’ disciples asked him, “Where do you want us to go and make preparations for you to eat the Passover?”
So he sent two of his disciples, telling them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him. Say to the owner of the house he enters, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is my guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ He will show you a large upper room, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.”
The disciples left, went into the city and found things just as Jesus had told them. So they prepared the Passover.
It was just days before Jesus was arrested and killed, and I’m sure that you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Commoners walking the streets could no doubt sense what was in the air. This Jesus was a fugitive: to know his is risky; to be with him, dangerous; but to harbor him is deadly.
Yet, Jesus needed a place to celebrate the Passover. There is one man with the right place – an upper room for Jesus and His disciples to celebrate the ritual meal. Not all houses had upper rooms and of those that did, few would be big enough for 13 men to share the Passover meal. This man knew the dangers. He knew that by allowing them to use his house he was putting his whole family at risk. He knew the dangers, but he opened his home.
If we’re experienced, we too know the risks. The sophisticated world mocks a meek and sheepish Christian. The evil world hats those who shine the light of Christ. Even the worldly church will persecute those who accuse its compromises and disclose its failures.
We know the danger of harboring Christ in a dark world. Yet, when asked “where is my guest room?” we answer, “Here, Lord. In my heart.”