Luke 24:13-35 ESV: 13 That very day two of them were going to a village named Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and they were talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus himself drew near and went with them. 16 But their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, “What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?” And they stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” 19 And he said to them, “What things?” And they said to him, “Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, a man who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and rulers delivered him up to be condemned to death, and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things happened. 22 Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning, 23 and when they did not find his body, they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but him they did not see.” 25 And he said to them, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! 26 Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” 27 And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.
28 So they drew near to the village to which they were going. He acted as if he were going farther, 29 but they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.” So he went in to stay with them. 30 When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. 31 And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And he vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” 33 And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem. And they found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together, 34 saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Introduction
Luke sets the scene with a simple phrase in verse 13: “That very day two of them were going to a village named Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem.” That very day. Which day? The day of resurrection. The day the women discovered the tomb empty. The day the angels announced, “He is not here, but has risen” (Luke 24:6). The day Peter and John ran to see for themselves. The day history itself was turned upside down.
But while heaven was rejoicing, these two disciples were not. They were walking away. Not toward the fellowship of believers, but away from Jerusalem. Not toward the place of promise, but away with slumped shoulders and heavy hearts.
Verse 14 tells us, “They were talking with each other about all these things that had happened.” We can imagine their conversation: “How could this be? How could it end like this? We thought He was the Redeemer.” Their words are thick with sorrow, their voices low with disappointment. Verse 17 adds, “They stood still, looking sad.” The word carries the sense of gloom, dejection, despair. Their faces told the story of their hearts. And then, in verse 21, we hear their confession: “We had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel.”
Three of the saddest words in all of Scripture: we had hoped. We had hoped He would be the Messiah. We had hoped He would overthrow Rome. We had hoped life would be different now.
But the cross had silenced those hopes. The tomb had buried their joy. Friends, don’t we all know those words? We had hoped. We had hoped the sickness would be healed. We had hoped the prodigal would come home. We had hoped the relationship would mend. We had hoped life would turn out differently.
Every one of us has walked the Emmaus road. Every one of us has whispered, “We had hoped.” And Israel knew it, too. Their history was one long ache of longing: In Egypt, they cried under Pharaoh’s chains, hoping for deliverance. In the wilderness, they wandered, hoping for the Promised Land. In Babylon, they hung their harps on the willows and wept (Psalm 137), hoping for restoration. After Malachi, they sat in silence for centuries, hoping for a word from God.
Psalm 42:5 ESV: Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him.
Isaiah 61:1-3 ESV: He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning.
But here, on the Emmaus road, hope seems shattered. Have you ever walked away from a graveside? The service is over. The casket is lowered. The flowers lie still. And then comes the hardest part — the slow walk back to the car. Each step feels like finality. That is Emmaus. Two disciples walking away from Jerusalem, each step echoing with loss. Yet verse 15 gives us the wonder:
Luke 24:15 ESV While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus himself drew near and went with them.
Jesus Himself. Luke stresses it. Not a vision. Not a dream. Not an angel. Jesus Himself.
And notice how He comes. He does not wait for them to climb out of their despair. He meets them in it. He does not wait for them to believe. He meets them in doubt. He does not wait for them to rejoice. He comes to them in sorrow. This is who Christ is.
Psalms 34:18 ESV The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.
Isaiah 43:2 ESV When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
Matthew 28:20 ESV “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
Augustine: “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” The disciples were restless, hopeless, but Rest itself walked beside them. Gregory the Great: “The sacred Scripture grows with the reader.” They had read the Scriptures, but their eyes had not yet grown into seeing Christ in them. Irenaeus: “All Scripture… shall be harmonized and explained by that one and only truth which is Christ.” And here He is, the Truth Himself, about to open the Word to them.
The 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith, 8 says “It pleased God, in His eternal purpose, to choose and ordain the Lord Jesus, His only begotten Son, to be the Mediator between God and man.”
That Mediator is the One who draws near on Emmaus road.
Isn’t this our world today? People walking away from the church saying, “We had hoped.” We had hoped the church would be faithful. We had hoped God would prove Himself. We had hoped life would make more sense. Our age is full of modern Emmaus roads — people walking in sorrow, not knowing that Christ Himself still walks beside them.
So what is Luke 24 teaching us? It is teaching us that the risen Christ is never absent from His people. He is the companion of the brokenhearted. He is the fulfillment of the Scriptures. He is the One who opens blind eyes. He is the fire that turns despair into joy.
The risen Christ is the center of Scripture, the fulfillment of every longing, the companion of the brokenhearted, and the One who turns despair into burning joy. This morning, as we walk the road to Emmaus together, we will see four ways the risen Christ still meets His people today:
- Christ draws near to the brokenhearted.
- Christ reveals Himself in the Scriptures.
- Christ opens eyes in fellowship.
- Christ sets hearts on fire and sends His people as witnesses.
And my prayer is that by the end of this passage, you too will say with those disciples: “Did not our hearts burn within us while He talked to us on the road, while He opened to us the Scriptures?”
Christ Draws Near to the Brokenhearted
Luke 24:15 ESV While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus himself drew near and went with them.
Pause and let that sink in. Jesus Himself — not a messenger, not a vision, not a memory, but the risen Lord in His glorified body — walked beside them. The emphasis is deliberate: Jesus Himself. Luke wants you to feel the shock of it. The One who just conquered death and hell, the One angels announced as risen, chose to spend His resurrection afternoon with two discouraged disciples who were not even part of the Eleven. Not the powerful, not the famous, not the bold — but the brokenhearted. Yet verse 16 adds:
Luke 24:16 ESV But their eyes were kept from recognizing him.
They saw, but they did not perceive. They walked beside the Lord of glory, but sorrow blinded them to His presence. Who kept their eyes? God Himself. Why? Because Christ would first open the Scriptures before He opened their eyes. Faith must be born not in sight, but in hearing (Rom. 10:17).
This is how life feels for many of us. We walk through grief, through disappointment, through doubt, and it seems as if God is absent. Our prayers hit the ceiling. Our Bibles feel dry. Our hearts say, “Where is God?” Yet all the while, He is walking beside us, unseen but never absent.
Psalms 34:18 ESV The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.
Isaiah 43:2 ESV When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
And Christ Himself declared,
Hebrews 13:5 ESV: “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”
The Emmaus road is proof that even when we cannot see Him, He is near.
Chrysostom observed: “Christ comes to those who seek Him not, and appears to those who are not looking for Him.” Even here, the disciples are walking away from Jerusalem, but Christ comes. Calvin wrote: “Christ comes unlooked for, that He may more effectually awaken us to reverence Him.” His presence is a gift of grace, not something we earn by looking hard enough. Augustine, reflecting on this very story, said: “They were walking dead, with Christ alive beside them.” What a haunting description — despair had so blinded them that they could not see Life Himself at their side.
Our confession teaches the same. The 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith, 14, says saving faith is “ordinarily wrought by the ministry of the Word” and “by which also, and by the administration of baptism and the Lord’s Supper, and prayer, it is increased and strengthened.” Faith is fragile. Faith is often dim. But Christ strengthens it. And here, in Emmaus, He strengthens it by walking with the weary, speaking the Word, and breaking bread. Verse 17 shows His gentleness:
Luke 24:17 ESV And he said to them, “What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?” And they stood still, looking sad.
He does not confront them with dazzling light like Saul on the Damascus road. He does not overwhelm them with majesty. He comes as a fellow traveler. He asks a question. He listens before He teaches. Isaiah 42:3 is fulfilled: “A bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench.”
Imagine a funeral procession. The mourners walk slowly behind the casket. The air is thick with sorrow. And then, quietly, someone slips into step beside you. Not to lecture. Not to scold. Simply to walk with you. To share the weight of silence. That is Jesus on the Emmaus road — not scolding the disciples for their grief, but walking with them in it.
Luke 24:18 ESV Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?”
They think He is ignorant, when in fact He is the only one who fully understands. Their eyes cannot yet see that the Stranger on the road is the Lord of glory.
Luke 24:19-21 ESV And he said to them, “What things?” And they said to him, “Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, a man who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and rulers delivered him up to be condemned to death, and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things happened.
There it is. We had hoped. The past tense of dead faith. Hope buried in a tomb. Gregory the Great remarked on this moment: “They did not believe what had been foretold, but they did mourn what had been done. Their sorrow was a greater witness than their faith.”
They loved Him, but their love was blinded by despair.
Think of a child in the middle of a thunderstorm. The house shakes with the crash of thunder. The sky lights up with flashes of lightning. The child cries out, “Where’s Dad?” And then the father enters the room, sits on the bed, wraps his arms around the child, and stays. The storm continues, but presence changes everything. That is Emmaus. The storm of the cross has not ended, but Christ Himself is present, and presence makes all the difference.
Isn’t this where many in our world are today? Disappointed with God, disappointed with the church, disappointed with life. Some leave the church saying, “We had hoped it would be better.” Some deconstruct their faith saying, “We had hoped Christianity was true.” Some walk away in sorrow, not knowing Christ Himself is still walking with them, ready to open the Scriptures and reveal Himself. Emmaus is not just their road; it is ours.
When you feel abandoned by God, don’t trust your feelings — trust His promises. Your eyes may be dim, but His Word is sure: “I am with you always.” When you walk with someone else in sorrow, imitate Christ. Don’t rush to lecture. Walk with them. Ask gentle questions. Share silence. Bear their burden. When your own heart whispers, “We had hoped,” remember Emmaus. Hope is not buried in the tomb. Hope is walking beside you.
So what will Christ do for these weary disciples? He has drawn near to their brokenness. But He will not leave them in sorrow. He will take them to the one place that cannot fail them — the Scriptures. And that brings us to our second point.
Christ Reveals Himself in the Scriptures
Luke 24:25 ESV And he said to them, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!
For the first time, the Stranger speaks directly to their sorrow. He has listened patiently. He has walked quietly. But now He addresses the root of their despair. He does not flatter them. He does not say, “Cheer up, it will be okay.” He names their condition: “slow of heart to believe.”
Notice — He does not accuse them of ignorance. He accuses them of unbelief. They knew the Scriptures. They had heard the prophets. But they had not believed what was written. Their problem was not a lack of information but a lack of faith. And isn’t that our problem too? We know God’s promises. We can quote Scripture. But when suffering comes, when life collapses, when hopes are dashed, our hearts grow slow. We forget what we know. We doubt what we once believed.
Luke 24:26 ESV Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?”
Here is the turning point of the whole passage. Necessary. Not accidental. Not optional. Necessary. The cross was not a tragedy that derailed God’s plan — it was the plan. Glory would come, but only through suffering. The crown would come, but only through the cross.
The disciples wanted a Messiah of triumph, not of suffering. They wanted victory without hardship, a throne without thorns. But the Scriptures had always pointed here. From the very beginning, suffering and glory were joined in God’s plan of redemption.
Luke 24:27 ESV And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.
What a sermon this must have been! The Author of Scripture walking through the story of Scripture, showing how every page points to Him. Let’s imagine what He might have said:
In Genesis 3:15, the seed of the woman will crush the serpent’s head. That seed is Christ. In Genesis 22, Isaac carries the wood up the mountain, but God provides a ram in his place. That substitute is Christ. In Exodus 12, the blood of the Passover lamb covers the doorposts so that judgment passes over. That Lamb is Christ. In Leviticus, priests offer daily sacrifices, but none can take away sin. Christ is the true High Priest and the final sacrifice. In Numbers 21, a bronze serpent is lifted up so that all who look live. Christ is lifted up on the cross that all who believe may have eternal life. In Deuteronomy 18, Moses promises a greater Prophet. Christ is that Prophet who speaks God’s Word perfectly. In 2 Samuel 7, God promises David a son whose throne will last forever. Christ is that Son, the eternal King. In Psalm 22, the righteous sufferer cries, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” — and that is Christ on the cross. In Isaiah 53, the Servant is pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities. That Servant is Christ. In Daniel 7, the Son of Man is given dominion and glory and a kingdom. That exalted Son of Man is Christ, risen and reigning. All of it — the law, the prophets, the writings — finds its fulfillment in Him.
Luther: “The Scriptures are the swaddling clothes and the manger in which Christ lies. Simple and lowly are they, but dear is the treasure, Christ.” The whole Bible wraps Christ in promise. John Owen: “Christ is the scope and center of the whole Bible.” Take Christ out, and the Scriptures collapse into fragments.
Irenaeus: “All Scripture… shall be harmonized and explained by that one and only truth which is Christ.” He is the harmony of the story, the melody running through every page. Spurgeon: “From every text of Scripture there is a road to Christ.” He is the destination of every path, the climax of every promise.
The 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith, 1.5 “We may be moved and induced by the testimony of the church to a high and reverent esteem of the Holy Scriptures… yet our full persuasion and assurance of the infallible truth… is from the inward work of the Holy Spirit bearing witness by and with the Word in our hearts.”
That is exactly what happened on Emmaus. The Word was opened, the Spirit bore witness, and their hearts began to burn.
Reading the Bible without Christ is like dumping a thousand puzzle pieces on the table without the picture on the box. Each piece has shape and color, but you cannot see the whole. Christ is the picture on the box. Once you see Him, the pieces fall into place. Scripture is like a map. Without the destination, the lines look confusing, roads go in every direction, and you are lost. But once you know the destination, the whole map makes sense. Christ is the destination. Once you know where the story is heading, every road points to Him. Acts 8 tells us of the Ethiopian eunuch reading Isaiah 53. “About whom does the prophet say this?” he asked. And beginning with that Scripture, Philip told him the good news about Jesus. The pattern is the same: Christ revealed in all the Scriptures.
How often do people today read the Bible as nothing more than moral tales or cultural artifact? Some treat it like fairy tales and fables: “Be brave like David. Be wise like Solomon.” Others ignore it as irrelevant. But until you see Christ, the Scriptures will always feel flat. And once you see Him, you cannot unsee Him — the whole Bible becomes alive.
How do you read your Bible? Do you look for Christ, or only for morals and advice? If you only seek rules, your heart will stay cold. If you seek Christ, your heart will burn. Parents, teach your children to see Christ in all the Scriptures. Don’t reduce the stories to “be brave like David.” Show them how David points to the greater Son of David who conquers sin and death. When your Bible feels dry, don’t look for novelty. Pray like the disciples: “Lord, open the Scriptures to us.” Hearts catch fire not through clever insights but through Christ unveiled.
So far we have seen Christ draw near to the brokenhearted, and now we have seen Him reveal Himself in the Scriptures. But the disciples still do not recognize Him. Their eyes remain closed. So what will Christ do next? He will open their eyes at the table, in the fellowship of bread broken together. That brings us to our third point.
Christ Opens Eyes in Fellowship
Luke 24:28 ESV So they drew near to the village to which they were going. He acted as if he were going farther,
Why would Jesus do that? Why act as though He would continue on? Because He is drawing out their desire. He does not force Himself upon them. He invites them to hunger for His presence. He waits for the door to be opened.
Luke 24:29 ESV but they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.” So he went in to stay with them.
They do not want this Stranger to leave. Even without recognizing Him yet, their hearts cling to Him. They plead, “Stay.” This is the cry of faith, even when dimly seen. And He grants their request.
Luke 24:30 ESV When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them.
These words echo familiar moments. At the feeding of the five thousand, He took, blessed, broke, and gave (Luke 9:16). At the Last Supper, He took, blessed, broke, and gave (Luke 22:19). Now, in Emmaus, the same actions unfold. This is table language. Fellowship language. Covenant language.
Luke 24:31 ESV: “And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And he vanished from their sight.”
Notice the order. They did not recognize Him on the road, even while He explained the Scriptures. Their eyes were opened at the table, in fellowship, in the breaking of bread. Christ chose to make Himself known in the ordinary act of sharing a meal.
This is how Christ still works. He reveals Himself not only through the written Word but also through the ordinary means of grace — the fellowship of the saints, the prayers of the church, the breaking of bread, the gathered worship of God’s people. What the world calls ordinary, God makes extraordinary by His presence.
Augustine: “They did not recognize Him when He was speaking, but they did when He was breaking the bread.” Fellowship opened what mere sight had missed. Calvin: “Our faith is slight and feeble… but it is nourished by the sacraments, just as the body is sustained by bread and wine.” The Lord stoops to our weakness, revealing Himself in simple things. Ignatius of Antioch: “Wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the catholic [universal] church.” Christ reveals Himself in the gathered fellowship of His people. Thomas Watson: “Christ is never so sweet as in the society of saints.” He makes Himself known in fellowship.
The 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith, 14.1, says faith is “ordinarily wrought by the ministry of the Word” and is “increased and strengthened by the administration of baptism and the Lord’s Supper, and prayer, and other means appointed by God.” Christ strengthens faith through ordinary practices. Ordinary bread. Ordinary prayers. Ordinary fellowship. But in these, He opens eyes.
Think of a simple family meal. Nothing fancy. Just bread, a little meat, some water. Yet around that table, stories are told, love is shared, hearts are knit together. The food nourishes the body, but the fellowship nourishes the soul. That is Emmaus — Christ taking the ordinary and filling it with His presence. Have you ever sung a hymn in a crowded room, and suddenly the truth of the words gripped you? The song was familiar, the voices were ordinary, but in that moment Christ opened your eyes. That is Emmaus — ordinary worship, extraordinary presence. Why does a poem stir our hearts? Why does music move us? Why do films and stories about sacrifice and redemption bring tears to our eyes? Because beauty points beyond itself. Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “He has put eternity into man’s heart.” All beauty echoes God’s truth. C. S. Lewis said that when we feel longing stirred by beauty, it is a signpost pointing us home. Christ opens our eyes not only to Himself in the Word but also to His fingerprints in the world.
This is where our culture hungers. People chase beauty in art, story, music, even entertainment — because they are longing for transcendence. They sense there is more. But apart from Christ, beauty fades into vanity. With Christ, beauty becomes a window to glory. Emmaus reminds us: when Christ opens our eyes, even the ordinary table, even the ordinary world, glows with His presence.
Do not despise the ordinary. Christ has chosen to meet us in the Word, the prayers, the gathered worship, the fellowship of the saints. Don’t look for Him only in the spectacular. He is here in the ordinary. Practice hospitality. These disciples recognized Him only because they urged Him to stay. Open your home. Invite others to your table. Christ often makes Himself known in shared meals and shared lives. Learn to see beauty rightly. When music stirs you, when a story moves you, when a sunset captures you — don’t stop at the gift. Look through it to the Giver. Beauty is a whisper of His glory. Expect Christ in the life of His church. Christianity is not a solo walk. It is life together. Emmaus reminds us that our eyes are opened in fellowship, not isolation.
Christ has now drawn near. He has opened the Scriptures. He has opened eyes in fellowship. But He is not finished. He will not leave cold hearts as they are. He will set them aflame, turning weary travelers into joyful witnesses. That brings us to our final point.
Christ Sets Hearts on Fire and Sends Witnesses
Luke 24:32 ESV: “They said to each other, ‘Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?’”
Here is the effect of Christ’s presence and Word. Cold hearts catch fire. Despair gives way to burning joy. Notice — their hearts did not burn when they walked in sorrow, nor even when they talked together. Their hearts burned when Christ opened the Word. The Word, illuminated by Christ, ignites the soul.
The fire is not emotionalism. It is not a fleeting feeling. It is holy passion — joy kindled by truth, love stirred by grace, faith awakened by the presence of Christ. Jeremiah once said,
Jeremiah 20:9 ESV: If I say, “I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name,” there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.
That is Emmaus — a fire too strong to quench.
Luke 24:33 ESV: “And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem.”
It is night. The road is dangerous. But burning hearts lead to swift feet. Fear vanishes. Fatigue is forgotten. When Christ sets the heart ablaze, mission becomes urgent. They do not wait until morning. They do not delay. They run back to Jerusalem with joy too great to contain.
Luke 24:34 ESV: “They found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together, saying, ‘The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!’”
Notice the echo of testimony. The disciples return to find the others already rejoicing: “The Lord has risen indeed!” This is the language of certainty. Not rumor. Not speculation. Indeed. Christ is risen indeed.
Luke 24:35 ESV: “Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread.”
Their sorrow had been turned into joy, their despair into testimony. They cannot keep silent. To see Christ is to speak Christ. To know Him is to make Him known.
Spurgeon: “A burning heart will soon find for itself a flaming tongue.” Joy in Christ naturally flows into witness. Jerome: “They were returning to their own home, but having tasted the broken bread, they returned to the holy assembly.” Fellowship turned wanderers back to the church. Bede (the Venerable): “The flame of love kindled by the Scriptures burst forth in proclamation.” Burning hearts must speak. Thomas Watson: “He who has tasted the honey of Christ will desire to have others taste it too.” Joy compels sharing.
The 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith, 26.1, describes the communion of saints: “All saints are united to Jesus Christ their head, by his Spirit and by faith, and have fellowship with him… and are obliged to the performance of such duties, public and private, as conduce to their mutual good, both in the inward and outward man.” Emmaus shows this truth in action — hearts aflame lead to fellowship and testimony.
Jeremiah 20:9 ESV: “A burning fire shut up in my bones.”
Isaiah 52:7 ESV: “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness.”
Beautiful feet are simply burning hearts that cannot stay still.
Acts 4:20 ESV: “We cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard.”
That is Emmaus: a fire that must be spoken.
Think of parents who just had a child. They cannot keep it quiet. They announce it, share photos, call friends. Joy demands to be shared. That is what happens when Christ is seen — the heart overflows. Imagine fans after a championship game. The city erupts. People flood the streets. Songs are sung. Flags are waved. Why? Because joy cannot be contained. If that is true for sports, how much more for the resurrection of Christ? The Samaritan woman at the well ran back to her village saying, “Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” (John 4:29). Encounter turned into evangelism. Joy became witness.
Our world is full of passion. People burn with zeal for politics, for causes, for teams, for celebrities. But only Christ gives a fire that does not consume but purifies. Only Christ sets a heart ablaze with joy that cannot be shaken. Emmaus reminds us: if your heart is cold, pray that Christ would open the Word and set it aflame again.
If Christ has set your heart aflame, do not keep Him bottled up. Speak of Him. Share Him. Witness flows not from guilt but from joy. Evangelism is not a burden to bear but an overflow of delight. When your heart burns, your tongue will speak. If your heart feels cold, do not settle. Ask Christ to kindle it afresh. Pray with the psalmist: “Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?” (Ps. 85:6). Remember: the fire is not for you alone. It is meant to be shared. Burning hearts lead to swift feet. Testify of Christ in your home, your workplace, your neighborhood. The Emmaus story ends where all true encounters with Christ must end — in witness. From “We had hoped” to “The Lord has risen indeed!” From despair to burning joy. And that leads us into the conclusion.
Conclusion
The story that began with despair ends with burning joy. Remember how it started? Two disciples, walking away from Jerusalem, shoulders slumped, saying, “We had hoped.” Hope in the past tense. Hope buried in the tomb. Hope silenced by the cross. But now listen to the ending: “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” And then, “The Lord has risen indeed!” From we had hoped to did not our hearts burn. From despair to delight. From walking away to running back. That is the Emmaus road. That is what Christ does for His people.
Let’s rehearse what we’ve seen: First, Christ draws near to the brokenhearted. He does not wait for strength. He comes in weakness. He meets His people in sorrow. Second, Christ reveals Himself in the Scriptures. From Moses to the prophets, every page sings of Him. The Bible is one story, and He is its center. Third, Christ opens eyes in fellowship. At the table, in the breaking of bread, in the ordinary means of grace, He makes Himself known.
Christ sets hearts on fire and sends witnesses.
Cold hearts catch flame. Burning hearts lead to swift feet. Joy overflows into testimony. Church history witnesses: Athanasius: “He became what we are, that He might make us what He is.” This is the Emmaus road in a sentence — Christ stooping to our weakness, raising us to His joy. Thomas Watson: “Christ is not only the object of our faith, but the life of it.” The disciples did not just see Christ; He became their very life. John Owen: “Christ is our life; Christ is our peace; Christ is our hope; Christ is our all.” That is what the disciples discovered, and that is what we must remember.
The 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith, 7.3, says the covenant of grace “is revealed in the gospel, first of all to Adam in the promise of salvation by the seed of the woman, and afterwards step by step, until the full discovery thereof was completed in the New Testament.” The Emmaus road is the very picture of that promise revealed — from Genesis to Isaiah to Christ Himself, the covenant of grace unveiled.
Psalm 30:5 ESV: “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Emmaus is night giving way to morning.
John 20:20 ESV: “The disciples were glad when they saw the Lord.” Gladness always follows sight of the risen Christ.
Revelation 21:4 ESV: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more.” Emmaus is a foretaste of that final day when all sorrows end.
Think of the long night. Darkness heavy, silence deep, fear lingering. But then, slowly, light begins to break. The first faint glow on the horizon. The black turns to gray, the gray to gold. The sun rises. Night has not lasted forever. Morning has come. That is Emmaus. The long night of sorrow giving way to the dawn of resurrection joy.
And isn’t that what our world longs for? After the gravesides, after the disappointments, after the despair, people want to know — is there light after the night? Emmaus answers: Yes. The Lord has risen indeed.
So where does that leave us? If you are walking in sorrow, Christ draws near. If your Bible feels cold, Christ reveals Himself. If your eyes are dim, Christ opens them. If your heart is weary, Christ sets it on fire. And if your feet are heavy, Christ sends you out in joy.
When you walk in sorrow, He draws near.
When your heart is slow, He opens the Word.
When your eyes are blind, He makes Himself known.
When your soul is cold, He sets it aflame.
When your feet are weary, He sends you out in joy.
This is the Christ of Emmaus. This is the Christ of Scripture. This is the Christ who still walks with His people today.
And so we end where the disciples ended: “The Lord has risen indeed.”
