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Luke 24:13–16, 30–32 “As they walked along, they were talking about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things, Jesus himself suddenly came and began walking with them. But God kept them from recognizing him... As he sat down to eat, he took the bread and blessed it. Then he broke it and gave it to them. Suddenly, their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.”

Think

The lilies are still fresh. The worship songs are still echoing in your head. “He is risen!”—you heard it on Sunday. Maybe you even believed it. But then Monday showed up with its same old bills, your same old inbox, and maybe even the same old heaviness in your chest.

Ever feel like the world doesn’t change much the day after Easter?

You’re not alone. That’s exactly where we meet two of Jesus’ disciples in Luke 24. It’s the day after the resurrection. They’d heard the tomb was empty, but it hadn’t sunk in. They were walking away from Jerusalem, the place where hope had died, talking it out, trying to make sense of everything. Their world had been shaken—and not in a good way. They were confused. Disoriented. Deep in disappointment.

And here’s the wild part: Jesus shows up. Literally starts walking with them. But they don’t recognize him.

Isn’t that a picture of us? Jesus is right beside us in the confusion, and we miss him because we’re too focused on what didn’t happen. The prayer that didn’t get answered. The job that didn’t come through. The pain that didn’t let up. Resurrection happened, but our reality hasn’t caught up.

What I love about this moment is that Jesus doesn’t shame them. He doesn’t roll his eyes or correct them on the spot. He just walks with them. He listens. He lets them vent. And then—bit by bit—he begins to unfold the story, helping them see the bigger picture.

Sometimes the most spiritual thing God offers us is his quiet presence in our everyday questions. He doesn't always erase the pain immediately—but he always joins us in it. That’s the kind of Savior he is.

And then, just when they sit down for a meal—when he breaks the bread—it happens. “Their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.”

Not during the theological deep dive. Not during a miracle. But during dinner. In the breaking of bread.

There’s something deeply symbolic there. Jesus often shows up clearest in the breaking. The breaking of expectations. The breaking of comfort. The breaking of our pride or self-sufficiency. And of course, the ultimate breaking—his own body, broken for us on the cross.

Spurgeon once said, “Jesus is often closer than we think, though we fail to recognize him.” That truth hits different the Monday after Easter. We may not feel all the mountaintop emotions. But he is here. Walking. Listening. Breaking bread. Opening eyes.

The empty tomb wasn’t the end of the story. It was the beginning of a new kind of walk—one where Jesus is always near, even when he feels far.

So if today feels ordinary, or even off, you’re in good company. The first Easter Monday was filled with confusion, too. But Jesus was already on the road. Already speaking. Already stirring hearts.

The table is still set. He’s still breaking bread. The question is—are we paying attention?

Apply

Take a walk today—literally. As you go, name the things that feel unresolved or confusing right now. Talk to Jesus like he’s walking beside you—because he is. Don’t rush to conclusions. Don’t tie it up with a bow. Just let the walk be the prayer. Or if you’re stuck inside, grab a journal and write out your questions. Let Jesus join you in them.

Pray

Jesus, thank you for not leaving me alone in my wondering. You walk beside me even when I don’t recognize you. You’re patient with my doubts. You’re gentle with my questions. Help me slow down and pay attention. Open my eyes to see you in the everyday, even in the breaking. You’re alive—and that changes everything. In Jesus’ name. Amen.