EYES OPEN

Sometimes, we miss what’s right in front of us. That’s what happened on the road to Emmaus.

Two disciples walked with Jesus after the resurrection, but they didn’t recognize him. It wasn’t just that they didn’t expect to see him; Luke tells us, "their eyes were kept from recognizing him." At first, it sounds like God was preventing them, but looking deeper, it becomes clear—they were blinded by their own expectations.

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They had hoped for a Messiah who would overthrow Rome, restore Israel’s power, and usher in a golden age. But Jesus had been crucified, and their hopes died with him. They couldn’t see the risen Christ because he wasn’t the Messiah they expected. So, even as he walked beside them, their eyes remained closed.

Before we judge them too harshly, we should ask ourselves: would we recognize Jesus if he stood before us? Or are we too distracted by our own expectations, schedules, and assumptions?

We keep our hands full—working long hours, wearing busyness like a badge of honor. We cling to control, hold onto past hurts, and grasp tightly to what feels secure. But when our hands are too full, it’s hard to receive anything new. It’s hard to see Jesus when we aren’t making space for him.

And that’s where authentic worship comes in. Worship isn’t about performance or perfection; it’s about presence. It’s about showing up, making space, and allowing God to meet us where we are—not where we think we should be.

The disciples on the Emmaus road didn’t recognize Jesus until they did something unexpected: they invited the stranger to stay and eat. Despite their grief and confusion, they extended hospitality. And that changed everything. As they sat at the table, Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. In that moment, their eyes were opened. They recognized him—not through a grand spectacle, but in a simple, familiar act: the breaking of bread.

How often do we fail to see Jesus because we’re looking for him in the wrong places? We expect mountaintop experiences, dramatic revelations. But more often, he meets us in the ordinary—around the table, in the breaking of bread, in the rhythms of worship.

This is why worship matters. Because in worship, we practice seeing Jesus. We return to the table, where Christ meets us again. We hear the Scriptures opened to us. We lift our voices in praise, lament, and longing. Worship reminds us that Jesus is present—not just in church, but everywhere. In the food pantry, in shared meals, in the kindness of a stranger, in the waters of baptism, in the bread and wine of communion.

The question isn’t whether Jesus is present. The question is whether our eyes are open to see him.
May we worship with eyes open. May we make space for Christ. May we recognize him in our midst.
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Peace,
Travis Segar
Pastor for Care and Community