Opened Eyes

“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” – Luke 24:30–32 (NIV)

The writer of Luke recounts the story of two friends who head out from Jerusalem to Emmaus. As friends do, they likely talked about various topics — family, friends, and local events. As followers of Jesus, naturally, they began speaking of Christ, who had been crucified and buried only days earlier. Intense in their conversation, a third person joins them who seems interested, but unaware of what they’re talking about. As the conversation continues, and the sun begins to set, they invite their new companion to spend the evening with them. 

It is at the table that everything changes. The guest they invited becomes the host. He takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them — and in that familiar gesture, their eyes are opened. What grief had blurred, and disappointment had dimmed, becomes unmistakably clear. The Christ they thought they had lost had been with them all along.

Luke doesn’t tell this story to embarrass the disciples for failing to recognize Jesus. He tells it because their experience is ours. We, too, can walk through our days unaware of Christ's presence beside us. We get absorbed in our conversations, our worries, our routines. We rehearse our disappointments. We try to make sense of what we cannot control. And all the while, Jesus walks with us — listening, teaching, steadying our steps.

But when we calm ourselves to listen and to see, something happens. A word of Scripture lands differently. A kindness touches us more deeply than expected. A moment of worship opens a window in the soul. A simple act — like breaking bread — becomes holy. And our eyes open. Not because Christ suddenly appears, but because we finally see what was true all along. We do not pray for Christ to appear, but for eyes that can see. 

The Emmaus story invites us to pray for that kind of sight — to notice the presence of Christ in the ordinary, to recognize grace in the familiar, and to trust that even when we do not see him clearly, he walks with us still. 

Risen Christ, open our eyes today. Help us see you in the conversations we have, in the people we meet, in the Scriptures we hear, and in the ordinary moments that fill our day. Let our hearts burn with the warmth of your presence, and let our eyes recognize you in every place you choose to walk with us. Amen.

Grace & Peace,

Pastor Tim

Robert Zünd — The Road to Emmaus (1877)