Jesus is Alive! | Luke 24

Welcome to Real Life. Jesus is alive. I spoke with him this morning.

On the first Easter Sunday . . .

“What are you two talking about?” the man asked.

We’d been so deep in conversation. We didn’t notice the stranger walk up behind us.

“You must not live around here. Everyone’s talking about it,” Cleopas answered.

“About what?” the stranger asked.

“What happened to Jesus of Nazareth, the prophet—no, he was more than a prophet. He spoke with the authority of a king. He opened blind eyes, raised the dead, even quieted a storm. Tell me. Who commands the wind and it obeys? And he spoke of God as his father. The religious leaders hated that. They accused him of blasphemy, arrested, and beat him. On Friday, they crucified him.

“We’re trying to make sense of it. I mean, Jesus Christ was so powerful. Why did he let it happen? We believed in him. We thought he was the One, the Messiah. Now he’s de-ad!” Cleopas's voice cracked. He wiped away a tear.

“That’s not all,” I continued for him. “This morning, some of our women went to his tomb. The body was gone. They saw a vision of angels who told them, ‘Jesus is alive.’ Our friends Peter and John ran to check it out. The tomb was empty. They even saw the angels—which is pretty amazing. But no Jesus. Mary swore she saw him alive this morning. We want to believe her. But she's been so hysterical. Who knows what she saw,” I explained as we continued walking the road to Emmaus.

“If Jesus is alive, where is he right now? That’s what we want to know,” I added. 

The man smiled at that. Which seemed odd. Cause it wasn't funny.

“Don’t you believe the prophets?” he asked. “The Christ had to suffer these things and then enter his glory.” He began opening our understanding to all the prophecies concerning the Messiah, his death, and resurrection, beginning with Moses’s earliest writings. The seven-mile journey passed in seven minutes, so it seemed. His intimate understanding of God, his ways, his words astonished us. We wanted more.

“You must be hungry and thirsty after our walk,” Cleopas said as we neared Emmaus. “Please come to my house. My wife’s the best cook in Israel. You won’t be sorry.” The traveler tried to beg off. Said he was going further. But we insisted.

Seated at Cleopas’s table, the man picked up a loaf of bread, gave thanks, and broke off a piece. In that instant, we knew. We’d seen this, done this before. In the upper room with . . . Jesus! It’s you! Before I could speak the words, he vanished.

Our mouths gaped, eyes gawked at his vacant chair. Finally, Cleopas asked, “Why didn’t we recognize him?”

“My soul was on fire. I never felt so alive. The same way I felt around Jesus. I should have known,” I said. And then asked, “Why did he appear to us, Cleopas? We're not even part of the twelve.”

“Don't ask. Just get on your knees and thank heaven!” he said with a chuckle.

After that, we could barely finish our meal. We had to tell the others. We raced back to Jerusalem, feet barely touching earth.

“It’s true. The Lord’s risen! He sat at my table . . .” As Cleopas began our story, Jesus himself appeared—again—to all of us!

“Peace! Be still,” he said. For the disciples were terrified! They thought his spirit had come haunting. All except Mary who had that I-told-you-so look on her face.

“I’m no ghost. Touch me. I’m flesh and bone. Give me a piece of that fish,” Jesus said. And he ate it in our presence. While he did, I studied his features. Trying to remember. Did the stranger’s beard curl at his chin like that? How did he hide in plain sight? 

Again, Jesus opened the Scriptures, weaving the golden tapestry of God's redemption story. From Eden's first couple to every patriarch, prophet, and king—each event foreshadowing, eagerly anticipating this very moment. Sin's penalty paid in royal blood. The curse broken. Love reigns eternally triumphant!

Proclaim: “There is forgiveness of sins for all who repent.”

Then, our Savior lifted his hands to bless us. I gasped at the still-fresh wounds. Hands raised, he was caught up into the highest heavens—before our very eyes. One last glimpse. A flash of glory illuminating the evening sky.

Jesus is alive! 

Emmaus Road Image from www.freebibleimages.org.