On His Way to Me

Sermon for Sunday, April 19, 2026 || Easter 3A || Luke 24:13-35

The world is a heavy place right now. I know I have felt way more stress than normal weighing me down recently. When I feel like this, I recognize my need to pray more, to connect more closely to God, to be an active participant in my relationship with the One who is nearer to me than I am to myself. Throughout my adult life, whenever I have felt this need, I have reached for my guitar. Before the pandemic, I had not written a new song in several years. But during those first months of lockdown, I wrote six new songs. Writing those songs was the only way I could find to realign myself with God in the midst of such a strange and scary time.

In days of deep stress and heaviness, our emotions dictate so much of how we move through the world. And yet many of us are not in touch with our emotions. We have trouble naming them, and if we can’t name them then we have even more trouble noticing how they are influencing our behavior. Writing and singing songs is one way I get in touch with my emotions, especially when they are all jumbled together. In today’s famous Gospel lesson, the story we call “The Road to Emmaus,” the two disciples get in touch with their emotions by walking.

First, I imagine they feel fear. They are leaving Jerusalem a few days after Jesus’ crucifixion. Maybe they were lying low like the Twelve, waiting for the violence to pass. None of them knew if the authorities would stop with Jesus or if they would go after his followers too. In fear, they head down the road away from Jerusalem. And what they don’t realize at the time is that the Risen Christ is on his way to them.

A man comes alongside them on the road. They stop walking. They stand still, looking sad. Along with their fear, a titanic sadness threatens to overwhelm them. They explain to the man the things that happened to Jesus, ending with these sorrowful words: “But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” But what they don’t realize at the time is that the Risen Christ has come to walk with them.

They continue along the way, explaining about the empty tomb and the women’s proclamation. They don’t know what to make of the events of that morning. They dare not hope, because in their fear and sadness, they believe hopes exist only to be dashed. But a third emotion does arrive: Confusion. They are confused by the women’s message. So the man on the road starts explaining the scriptures. And what they don’t realize at the time is that the Risen Christ is teaching them.

Fear. Sadness. Confusion. These are the emotions the two disciples felt on the Road to Emmaus. If you’re anything like me, these are some of the jumble of emotions you are feeling right now. The beautiful and true message of this story is that, in the midst of this fear and sadness and confusion, the Risen Christ comes. The Risen One is always and forever walking the way with us, whether or not our eyes can recognize this presence. No matter the state of our spiritual vision, our hearts glow with the reflected light of God’s love and grace. And sometimes, sometimes, we notice the glow and shine that light upon others.

The work of the spiritual life is to train our eyes through prayer, reflection, study, meditation, conversation, and worship; to train our spirits to notice the fire burning in our hearts, the fire set ablaze by our nearness to the One who is nearer to us than we are to ourselves. This work is a lifelong endeavor, a road that we make by walking it.¹ This week, I invite you to reflect upon how you are training your vision to see our constant companion on the road, the Risen One who is always and forever on his way toward us.

To close this sermon, I’d like to share a song with you that I wrote many years ago. I wrote it while I was discerning my next steps in ministry as I contemplated moving on from my first call. I was on the proverbial Road to Emmaus at the time, and the words of the song came to me as I imagined my way into the steps of Cleopas’s unnamed companion. I hope these words speak to you as we all walk through these difficult days with heavy steps, and I pray your hearts might burn within you as they recognize the presence of Christ nearby. This song is called “Wandering One.”

Wandering One
By Adam Thomas

In doorways and alleys,
I slouched in the shadows;
For two days I lingered
And heard phantom footfalls in the night
In feverish visions,
I saw massacred martyrs
And disciples as targets,
the angry mob spoiled for a fight.
So I left my belief behind;
Took the first road that my feet could find.

I met my friend Cleopas
at the gates of the city;
We covered our faces
as we picked out our paces down the hill.
A man came upon us
as the sun reached its zenith.
At first we were wary,
lest the man were a blackguard sent to kill.
So I waited for a dagger’s thrust,
But his bright eyes spoke only trust.

How could I know
That night I would say:

Did not our hearts burn, burn within us?
Were not our eyes opened to see
When we were on our way to Emmaus?
And all the while this wandering one,
the risen Son… was on his way to me.

The man had no memory
Of that darkest of Fridays,
So we spoke of our teacher,
Who was brutally murdered on a cross.
“You understand nothing
if you think this is over,”
He said with conviction,
then he opened the scriptures up to us.
But I knew I’d never trust again
Since my Jesus had just died in vain.

We came to the village
As the cold sun was setting.
The man made to move on,
But we urged him to stay and share a meal.
We sat down at table,
And the man said a blessing;
And breaking bread with us,
For a moment his glory was revealed.
So we witnessed Jesus Christ again,
Then we raced back to Jerusalem.

How did I know
That night I would say:

Did not our hearts burn, burn within us?
Were not our eyes opened to see
When we were on our way to Emmaus?
And all the while this wandering one,
the risen Son… was on his way to me.