He Walks With Us

Evan D Garner

Apr 19

April 19, 2026 – The 3rd Sunday of Easter, Year A
Acts 2:14a,36-41 • 1 Peter 1:17-23 • Luke 24:13-35

Today, for the third week in a row, we hear a gospel lesson that takes place on Easter Day. First, we heard from John about Mary Magdalene going to the tomb early that morning—how she found that the stone had been rolled away, how she ran to tell the disciples what she had seen, and how, after they had returned home, the risen Jesus came and revealed himself to her.

Last week, we heard another story from John’s gospel account—how, later that same night, the disciples were huddled behind locked doors, how Jesus came and found them and revealed himself to them, how Thomas had not been with them, and how Jesus came back a week later just to show himself to the doubting disciple.

Today we hear from Luke’s version of Easter. Luke also starts from the perspective of the women who went to the tomb early in the morning and found that the stone had been rolled away and that Jesus’ body was nowhere to be seen. Luke recalls how angels appeared to tell them that Jesus had been raised from the dead, and he explains that this was the moment when the women remembered that Jesus had taught his followers to anticipate his death and resurrection on the third day. But, when the women went and found their male counterparts and told them what the angels had said, the men dismissed their words as if they were an idle tale. They would not believe them. And that’s where today’s gospel lesson picks up the story.

Two of Jesus disciples—Cleopas and one whose name we are never told—are on their way from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They are walking the road of defeat. That they have left the capital city and the companionship of the other disciples lets us know that there is no sense among Jesus’ followers that the empty tomb is a sign of Christ’s victory. They are talking about the things that have happened, but the truth of Jesus’ triumph is still hidden from them, just like Jesus’ presence with them on the road.

“While they were talking and discussing,” Luke tells us, “Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” Why do you think they failed to recognize Jesus? Was it their grief—tears that blurred their vision? Was it the unlikeliness of Jesus’ resurrection—an idea so far-fetched that they couldn’t see it even when it stared them in the face? Had Jesus’ body taken on some new and strange appearance that the disciples were unable to see beneath? Or was there something about the truth of Jesus’ resurrection that they could not grasp until Jesus had made it known to them?

Jesus begins his ministry to these grief-stricken disciples with a question: “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” He is willing to start wherever they are. “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” they ask in reply. “What things?” Jesus says back to them. Even though he was more aware of what had happened than any other person on the planet, Jesus knew that, in order for these disciples to discover the truth, they had to be the ones to guide the conversation.

In the retelling that follows, we see that they knew just about everything that had happened to Jesus. He was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, yet the religious leaders had handed him over to be crucified. We had hoped that he was the one to redeem God’s people. Moreover, some of the women in our fellowship had astounded us with the news that his tomb was empty and that they had seen a vision of angels who claimed that he was alive. Some of the men went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they did not see him.

In effect, they knew everything, yet they could see nothing. They got all the pieces right. They knew all the details. They had the whole story. Jesus was a prophet mighty in word and deed. He was the one to redeem God’s people. Yes, he had been crucified, but now his tomb was empty because, as the angels had declared, God had raised him from the dead in triumph. The disciples were not missing a thing. Yet, when they surveyed all that they had, they found that they had nothing—just a story that ended with emptiness, absence, a void.

After letting them explain what they knew, Jesus helped them put the pieces together. “Oh, how foolish you are and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!” Jesus speaks to them with tenderness and compassion. The word translated for us as “foolish” literally means “non-thinking,” as if to imply that they hadn’t thought through it all properly. And “slow of heart” speaks not of their lack of intelligence but of their failure to orient themselves fully to Jesus’ teachings. The disciples’ problem was not a lack of intellectual knowledge but a need for spiritual comprehension. And, if you think about it, we shouldn’t be surprised that individuals who had experienced such trauma and grief were struggling to understand what was really going on.

Luke does not tell us exactly what biblical passages Jesus used to help the disciples make sense of what had taken place, but we can imagine that, during their walk together, Jesus spoke about God’s promise to Abraham, about Israel’s deliverance from captivity in Egypt, about the prophets who called upon God’s people to repent, about the one who would suffer for the sake of God’s people, about God’s restoration of the people to their land, and about God’s promise to redeem them from tyranny and oppression. When Jesus described the ways in which God’s anointed one was sent by God not only to reclaim the throne of his ancestor David but to do so by suffering and dying in order to save God’s people from the power of sin and death, we can imagine that the disciples’ minds were racing as they tried to make sense of everything that this stranger was saying to them. But, still, they did not recognize him.

Later on, after they knew who it was that had walked beside them, we are told that their hearts were burning as Jesus opened the scriptures for them, yet, still, they did not know who it was that was speaking. This reflects a profound truth about human experience. The disciples knew all of the details that they were supposed to know, and they had heard an expert make sense of the story. Jesus himself had explained to them why what had happened to him had to happen—who he was and how his life, death, and resurrection were the fulfillment of God’s purposes for all of humanity. And still they did not recognize who it was that was speaking to them.

There are some truths in this life that we are unable to grasp not because of our lack of intelligence, nor because of our lack of information, nor because of our lack of understanding but because there are some truths that we can only receive as a gift. And, as long as we approach them as something we must figure out on our own, we will never obtain them.

I remember well the night when God’s love for me was finally a truth that I could receive. I was eighteen years old and had spent my entire life learning about Jesus. I had gone to church and read the Bible and said my prayers. I had sung in the choir, preached a youth sermon, and volunteered every time church had asked for help. I had given my life to Jesus more times than I could count, but I came up empty every time. I had all the puzzle pieces, and plenty of spiritual mentors had put them together for me dozens of times, but the harder I tried to see Jesus the further away he felt. Despite my best efforts—in fact, because of them—all I came up with was a void—an emptiness—until I stopped trying to find Jesus and began waiting for him to come and reveal himself to me.

When the disciples reached their destination, Jesus acted as if he would keep walking. “Stay with us tonight,” the disciples pleaded. “It is already late, and the day is nearly over.” Then, when he was sitting at the table with them, he took a loaf of bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them, and their eyes were opened. It was Jesus, who had been raised from the dead, and they knew him. Then he vanished, and the disciples got up and ran the seven miles back to Jerusalem to tell the others what had happened to them—how the risen Lord had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Jesus comes and makes himself known to us not in our knowledge of the story or in our understanding of the details but in himself, given to us as a gift for our salvation. You can study every verse of the Bible until you know it backwards and forwards, and you can learn from the wisest and most gifted spiritual teachers, and you can do all the things and say all the prayers, but, until Jesus comes and reveals himself to you, you will not recognize him.

That is the truth of the cross. That is the heart of the gospel. We cannot make ourselves recognize Jesus. Jesus must show himself to us. And thanks be to God that Jesus comes and reveals himself to people who do not yet recognize him. That is the gift of our faith. The truth of Emmaus is that Jesus walks with us even when our eyes cannot see him. He is with us the whole way. Once we sit down and wait for him to be manifest, his presence is revealed, and our eyes are opened, and we recognize that God’s love has been with us all along.