The stranger shook His head at our confusion. He chided us for not believing the promises of the Scriptures regarding Messiah. Then He taught us. He quoted passage after passage from Moses and the prophets, and David, showing us how the promises must be fulfilled: how the Messiah must suffer first before He began His reign. How His death would atone for sin, and that God would not leave Him in the grave, but would raise Him to life again. Our hearts quickened to hear these words of promise and new hope.
By the time we arrived at our village, it was late in the afternoon. Traveling after dark was dangerous because of thieves on the road, so when we saw that the stranger intended to go on alone, we persuaded Him to stay. He accepted our invitation and came to dine with us. We reclined together at the table. The stranger took up the bread, blessed it, broke it and we began to eat.
That’s when I noticed them–the marks on His hands. When He broke the bread, I caught my breath. I said, “Show me Your hands.” He held them out and turned them over. Nail prints. I raised my head and looked Him full in the face. His eyes held my gaze. And I knew Him. My heart pounded in my chest. I was looking in the face of Israel’s Redeemer, Jesus, the Messiah, our Teacher, alive from the tomb. The women were right. Peter and John were not talking nonsense. He was alive, in my house, reclining at my table.
Voice of assurance
April 7, 2012 by joyfulpapist