The following piece was first written for the April 19, 2026 pew sheet at St Augustine’s Anglican Church. I share it here again in the hope that it may continue to encourage and bless.
Luke's account of the road to Emmaus tells a deeply human story. Two disciples walk away from Jerusalem, weighed down by grief, confusion and disappointment. The one they had hoped in has been crucified. Reports of an empty tomb and rumours that Jesus is alive sound distant and unreal – too strange to change anything for them. As far as they are concerned, the story is over.
We can recognise ourselves in them. We too know what it is to feel bewildered by events, to carry sorrow and to wonder whether our hopes have come to nothing. Like those two travellers, we often continue walking, trying to make sense of life, even when God seems absent or silent. Yet the heart of this passage lies in what they do not realise: the risen Christ is already walking with them. Jesus comes alongside them in their confusion. He listens patiently to their grief. He opens the Scriptures, helping them to see that God's purposes were at work all along, even through suffering. Later, at the table, in the simple act of breaking bread, their eyes are opened – and they recognise him.
This is not only their story; it is ours as well. The risen Christ still draws near to his people. He walks with us in our questions, our disappointments and our uncertainties. He speaks to us through his Word. He makes himself known in fellowship and in the ordinary moments of life. Often, we do not recognise him at first – but he is there. Every trial, then, becomes an opportunity – not to deny our pain, but to discover more deeply what God is doing. Like those disciples, we are invited to let Christ open our eyes. And when he does, our sorrow is not the end of the story. It becomes the place where hope is rekindled, and where we begin to see: the risen Christ has been walking with us all along.
