As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther.
Luke 24:28 (NIV)
Several weeks ago, Wendy and I had a friend who asked, “May I invite myself over to your house for coffee?”
We welcomed that with open arms. What a blessing to have friends so eager to be with us that they boldly invite themselves over.
It finally aligned for our coffee date to happen this past Saturday, and we thoroughly enjoyed the coffee and conversation with our friend.
In the course of our conversations, all three of us shared many things from each of our life stories. We shared about our messy mistakes, our struggles, and how God has redeemed those things in the process of our spiritual growth and transformation.
“That’s really how it works isn’t it?” Our friend observed amidst the conversation. “You can’t see it in the moment, but when you look back from a point further down the road you see how God was present and working in all of it — even our messes and mistakes.”
That comment came back to me as I meditated on the final chapter of Luke this morning. As Luke ends the Jesus Story for his friend Theophilus, he doesn’t so much end his story as he opens the curtain wider. Resurrection morning isn’t a quiet epilogue—it’s the spark that sets the whole world humming.
The chapter is filled with individuals who couldn’t see things in the moment — until angels and Jesus opened their eyes and gifted them with a backward glance.
One of these happened as two of Jesus’ followers were walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Jesus joins them on the road, though they don’t recognize Him in the moment. As they make the seven-mile trek, Jesus shares with them how the scriptures continually point to the Messiah having to suffer, be crucified, and rise in three days.
And then Luke slips in a subtle — but oh so important — detail.
As Jesus’ followers reach their destination, Jesus makes like He is going to continue on down the road. The followers invite Him to join them for dinner.
Ever the provocateur, Jesus contentedly waits for them to invite Him in.
That’s often how God works.
Not with coercion.
Not by breaking down the door.
But by invitation.
After I invited Jesus into my life, I took a backward glance of my own…
He’d been there the entire time, even though I didn’t recognize Him.
Walking beside me.
Whispering.
Wooing.
Waiting.
He was content to continue on — until I invited Him in to have a seat at the table of my life.
That’s when everything changed.
Even Jesus honors the invitation—
even when it begins with something as simple as coffee at the kitchen table.
