On the way to Emmaus

They were walking, two of them on the road to Emmaus.

Wondering.
Reflecting.
Questioning.

He caught up, began walking with them and they had no idea.
They shared the events of the past weekend.

Expressions of sorrow.
Pain and frustration echoed through their words.
Disbelief and confusion was evident.

After all they’d seen, they didn’t know what to believe.
According to rumor he wasn’t dead.
He’d been raised. Yet no one had seen him.

How could they know if it was true?
How would they discern fact from fiction?

He tried to help them see.
He told stories of the prophets.
He encouraged them to believe.
Yet as he spoke, he didn’t say who he was.
He didn’t tell them.

He waited.

He waited until they were sitting together.
He waited until they invited him in.
He waited until the bread was broken.
Then they knew.

How many times have we met Jesus but not known him?
How many times have we travelled with him unaware?
As Christians we talk about Jesus, but do we invite him into our lives?

That’s the thing about Jesus. He doesn’t force himself on us.
Even if we’ve got it wrong.  He waits until we ask.

I love that. Belief in him is not forced, it’s a choice.
It’s up to us to decide what we believe.
It’s up to us to cultivate a relationship.
We have to make the decision.

We keep him waiting with our questions.
He doesn’t leave.
Eventually we have to make a choice.
We have to invite him in.

Will you do it?
Will you invite him in?

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