Mere hours after the first reports of Jesus’s resurrection fuel the rumor mill and stir anxious doubt, two of the Lord’s disciples are traveling by foot the 7-mile trek from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Together they walk purposefully and talk non-stop about all these unbelievable things that reportedly have happened at the tomb: Of a hefty stone rolled away, of a surely dead body gone missing. They speak of angels bending near the earth with incredibly good news. They compare notes about confused and terrified women slack-jawed and gobsmacked by it all. Perhaps they snicker and chuckle over the embarrassing silliness of breathless apostles running to and fro’ from upper room to empty grave.
Then a third traveler joins them, and the newcomer starts separating fact from fiction, beginning his lecture with stern admonishment: “You fools! You find it so hard to believe all that the prophets wrote in the Scriptures? Didn’t they clearly predict that the Messiah would have to suffer all these things before entering his glory?” (Luke 24:25-26)
The Bible lessons persist along the dirt road’s final miles. But the trio makes it makes it all the way to Emmaus without the first two realizing that it is the risen Jesus himself who has hitched his wagon the entourage! Only when Jesus joins them for supper do they recognize the Lord. In the precious routine of table fellowship, the clueless men comprehend the Risen Savior in their midst. Here’s how the Gospel of St. Luke captures that moment –
As [the two men] came near the village to which they were going, Jesus walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So Jesus went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. (Luke 24:28-31)
The road was long; the day was late, still hot and dusty though shadows were lengthening. Two men were fleeing the city of sorrow, the city of hearsay, the city of hopes and dreams too outlandish for belief. On this third day of their sorrow and loss, exhaustion and weariness are collecting their physical and emotional tolls – as profound sadness and grief always do, and their hearts and minds are in no condition to trust the truth of what others had seen.
Wherever you encounter one, a stranger often feels either scary or friendly. And this unfamiliar face on the Emmaus road seems the latter. And he wants in on the conversation. So the men welcome the stranger into their trouble and heartache, and they experience comfort in holy words that put old truths into new light. Then, with faithful hospitality still stronger than fear or weakness, the men open the door of their home to the stranger. He wants to leave, but the men invite him in and insist that he abide.
And suddenly it all comes flooding back: the shared meals, the peace of his presence, the blessed words that both humbled and encouraged. By the grace of God, Jesus remains their teacher and friend. His beloved body is back before their eyes, and it holds newfound power to come and go, to be everywhere – maybe even everywhere at once. Either way he will always be close, even when unseen, just as he drew close that dazed-and-confused afternoon along the road to Emmaus.
So the two men push back from the table, meals unfinished, no longer exhausted but nourished by good news. They bolt from the home to return to Jerusalem: The no-longer-sorrowful nor grief-stricken city of resurrection, the city of promises fulfilled where the grandest hopes and dreams of heaven and earth really did come true.
Please join me in a place of prayer – Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory. Thank you for blessed communion that unites us with Christ in broken bread and poured cup. At his Table, we draw near in love to savor his grace and strength. Yours is a table of grace, so we confess neglecting opportunities for communion and fellowship and finding excuses for staying apart. Our devotion can be cold and distracted. So please, Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy! Be known to us in breaking bread, but do not then depart. Abide with us and spread your Table in our hearts.
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! And Christ will come again! Let us bless the Lord! Thanks be to God!
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In the days and weeks after the Resurrection, the Lord’s followers return to Galilee and their former work. Jesus, whom they had seen in Jerusalem, arrives before they do – just as he had promised. Though Almighty God and Risen Savior, Jesus – Son of Man – still comes to his disciples as one who serves. He thus prepares a meal for them. According to the Gospel of St. John –
Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach, but the disciples did not know that it was he. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish.
That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, maybe a hundred yards off. When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.”
So Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. (John 21:4-12)
The disciples return to a familiar lake, back to places infused of home and everyday routine, back to spaces where things ought to be familiar – before Jesus comes to remake heaven’s fallen, broken, and fearful creation. A new covenant, literally written in blood, that demands less and yet infinitely more is rocking their world. Tokens of the past had surely returned, but lightning never strikes twice. That morning’s shore breakfast brought the dawn of a new day, and no one would ever see a sunrise without remembering the garden, the empty tomb, the inaugural day of eternal life.
After a barren night on the water comes a great catch – just as Jesus had come earlier, and preached from the boat, and called them to follow. Peter, as before, is first on shore, scantily clad and wild to meet the Lord whom he once begged to leave in shame for his sinfulness. Now Jesus extends a new challenge: Love questions love so that love might be strengthened.
To nourish that kind of unconditional servant love were bread and fish, the simple ingredients once wonderfully multiplied on a hillside to meet a crisis of success. On the shoreline another meal together, like so many in the past, until that last one on a maundy Thursday seemingly ended it all. But now, this simple meal is a complex gift, a new feeding of more than hungry bodies. The Lord is nourishing his shepherds, so they might go forth to feed other hungry sheep – the lost and alone, the sick and the dying, the sinner and the saint.
Again, let us pray. Thank you, O Lord, for food – for the simple pleasures and necessities of life. We praise you for sustaining us and supplying all our needs. We hold you in awe, because you hold all things in your power while caring for each, keeping us in life now and leading toward life forever with you. Too often, merciful God, we offer too little gratitude for our food and for the other blessings of our lives. We think too little about those in want who struggle to make ends meet. May our grateful hearts always be attentive to the needs of others.
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! And Christ will come again! Let us bless the Lord! Thanks be to God!
Pastor Grant M. VanderVelden shared this message on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, April 26, 2026, at First Presbyterian Church in Waukon, Iowa, USA. Commentary and reflection by Raymond Chapman inform the message.