Sermon for April 19, 2026
Easter 3 A
Luke 24:13-35 & Acts 2:14a, 36-41
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
A couple of times during my years as a pastor I’ve had the chance to be a chaperone for the ELCA Youth Gathering—once in Atlanta, and once in San Antonio. 30,000 high school kids and adult chaperones spent a week together in these cities, hearing inspiring speakers, listening to great musicians, doing service projects, learning about a wide variety of ministries, experiencing different cultures, meeting people from every corner of the United States and around the world, and even worshiping together in football stadiums. There’s of course a lot of excitement that goes along with an event like that. And often kids from my church, who came from small towns and small churches in a very rural area, would say something like “I never realized there were so many kids who were Christian or Lutheran like me!”
When we got home, everyone would feel inspired and energized to practice their faith and talk about their experience. That is kind of how I imagine the people who heard Peter’s sermon were feeling. We heard about it in our first reading today, from Acts 2. People from all over the “known world” who had gathered in Jerusalem for the Pentecost festival heard Peter’s preaching, and inspired by his message they were repenting, being baptized, having their sins forgiven, and receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit. We also hear about the results: “that day about 3,000 persons were added” to the disciples who followed the risen Jesus.
When we hear about things like that, I’m sure many of us think “I’d like some of that!” We want our ministries on behalf of Jesus to get that kind of amazing result. Sometimes we might. Go to a national ELCA youth gathering. Go on a youth group mission trip to South Dakota or Kentucky. Do a service project locally. On any of them, chances are you’ll meet people from all over the place, and grow in faith together in the name of Jesus. Big things can happen.
Another circumstance where lots of people meet Jesus and have a significant faith experience are in places where people face serious hardships or even religious-based persecution—for example, parts of Africa, India, China, Indonesia, the Mekong Delta of Asia, even Iran. Christian faith is often growing the fastest in these places despite—or perhaps because—the people there live in social or political environments that are often repressive, violent, discriminatory, or coercive. Maybe the Church is growing so fast in these places because people see more clearly the contrast between the corrupt powers of this age, and God’s promises of redemption, holiness, liberation, and salvation in Christ. Or maybe it’s because God has always had a “soft spot” for people who are suffering or oppressed, and knows how much they need the message of the gospel to find hope to get through the day. Ultimately, though, it’s only God who truly knows the answer, and God who makes it happen by sending the Holy Spirit to inspire faith in Jesus crucified and risen.
Does this mean that we should be hoping for more hardship and persecution in the world, so the church will keep “growing faster”? NO! The message of Jesus, the Lord of life, calls us to commit ourselves to supporting the well-being, health, and flourishing of all humanity and the entirety of God’s creation. After all, Jesus taught us to pray for God’s kingdom to come “on earth as it isin heaven.” And the Holy Spirit has called the Church into existence to care both for souls and the bodies that go along with them. As the Nicene Creed confesses: “we believe in the resurrection of the body”—this means that our bodies are very important to God, and that God cares about our physical well-being, as well as our mental and spiritual well-being. Because of what Christ has done for us, even our suffering in body, mind, and spirit can be redeemed.
That redemption often happens on a more personal level—not like the 3,000 people who were baptized after Peter’s sermon, but as Jesus meets people one on one when they least expect it. Which brings us to today’s gospel from Luke 24… It was almost evening on that very first Easter day, and two disciples who had been in Jerusalem that weekend were walking back to their village, Emmaus. It was seven miles away, so for people accustomed to walking a lot, it would have taken them a couple hours. Plenty of time for an in-depth conversation. They had lots to talk about, lots to process—including their grief. They looked sad when a stranger came near and began to walk with them. The stranger was Jesus, but they did not recognize him. Jesus asks what they’ve been talking about. One of them, named Cleopas, answers: “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” Cleopas tells about the crucifixion on Good Friday, and how this made them lose their hope of redemption. He tells of the confusing and astounding report from “some women of their group” who had gone to the tomb that very morning, found it empty, and encountered a vision of angels who said that Jesus was risen and alive!
Then Jesus—whom they still do not recognize—enters the conversation, and interprets the scriptures of the Old Testament, about how they point to the coming of a Messiah who would suffer before “entering into his glory”. When they arrive at Emmaus, Cleopas and his companion—it may have been his wife—urge Jesus to stay with them. So he does. They sit together at the table. Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, shares it with them. Only then—in receiving the bread Jesus has blessed—do they recognize him. And as soon as they do, Jesus vanishes from their sight.
It’s a profound story, because it shows us how we meet Jesus in our daily lives. Sure, the big events, the 3,000 baptized in one day type events, are great—but they are also pretty rare. It’s more likely that we’ll meet Jesus in small, modest encounters, and when we do, we should not be surprised when we don’t recognize him. And if we do recognize him, it’ll probably be when the experience is almost over. As they say about life, we can also say about faith: it must be lived forward but understood only by looking backward.
On the road to Emmaus Jesus meets them because they are grieving, sad, confused, doubting. He walks with them, he has a conversation with them. They welcome him as a stranger, but eventually he becomes a friend. It’s not the news of the empty tomb by itself that makes their “hearts burn within them”—but dwelling in the Word and interpreting the scriptures; that’s what allows the empty tomb to make sense of the way God works in the world.
God works by hiding his presence in what we perceive as his opposite. The giver of eternal life dies upon a cross. His living presence visible in the emptiness of a dark tomb. He unites his followers by breaking apart and sharing bread. But his presence is not something we can hang onto and manipulate for our own purposes; Jesus is always close at hand, but we are never able to control him by our hands.
And so we must keep walking that road to Emmaus in our own lives—and learn to expect that Jesus will meet us when we least expect it. We can look for him in the strangers who come into our lives, and who cross our paths. We can listen for the astounding and confusing news of new life and hope coming into a broken and corrupt world—and keep on walking in faith, even when we feel stuck in death, sadness, grief, doubt, or fear. We can interpret the scriptures, and break bread together—knowing that the tombis empty, and the presence of Jesus is still loose in the world. Amen.