And having begun from Moses and from all the prophets, he interpreted to them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.
The two disciples walking to Emmaus had lost hope, because their Messiah had died on a cross. Now the risen Lord walks beside them unrecognised and opens the Old Testament to them — why the Scriptures, and not a sight of His face?
The two names are not a short reading list. They are a way of naming the entire Hebrew Bible.
The phrase "Moses and all the Prophets" takes in the whole of the Old Testament. "Beginning with Moses" means the five books of Moses — Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. Then come "all the Prophets," and "He interpreted to them in all the Scriptures" — that is, the Old Testament Scriptures — "the things concerning Himself."
That starting point settles a question people still argue over: who wrote those first five books.
He spoke with great care of Daniel as "the prophet" near the close of the Old Testament, and of Moses at the beginning as the writer of the law. He does not simply leave the Jewish view of Moses unchallenged. He affirms it, and He insists on it Himself, again and again, in the plainest terms.
If Christ runs through the Scriptures from Genesis onwards, He is not one theme among many. He holds the whole book together.
He Himself — all honour to His glorious Person! — is the divine centre of all the things contained in the Scriptures from cover to cover. He is the golden chain. It binds every part of the inspired volume, from Genesis to Revelation, into one marvellous and magnificent whole.
What He showed them reached beyond the passages we call predictions. The same teaching is open to us today.
This would include types (pictures) of Himself, of His sacrifice and of His resurrection glory, as well as direct prophecies. How marvellous this long discourse must have been! Yet it was only for these two, however much we might wish someone had written it down for us. But it is the work of the Holy Spirit today to take the things of Christ and show them to us. So, by diligent faith and submission to Him, we too may learn the same things.
He was alive and walking beside them. He could have settled everything by pointing to the plain facts. He opened the Scriptures instead.
Jesus hears their sad story from their own lips. He brings out the state of their hearts. Then He opens the Scriptures, instead of just pointing to the facts as evidence. This use of the Scriptures by our Lord is very significant. The word of God is the truest, deepest and weightiest testimony — even when the risen Jesus Himself stood there as its living proof in person... From then on it was not a question of a living Messiah on the earth, but of One who had died and risen, now seen by faith in the word of God.
Notice what He withheld as much as what He gave.
The written Word was enough to have taught them about all that had happened. First He rebuked them for being slow of heart to believe it. Then He turned them back to it. He would settle their faith on what God had already given. He gave them no fresh revelation. They must stand on the written word of God. That done, He made Himself known as risen from the dead... What He sought for those two, He seeks for still, that souls should take God at His word, and rest on what He has revealed. The sooner a soul does that, the sooner it will have peace with God.
The story He drew out of the Scriptures has two parts in a set order. Human thinking would gladly drop the first.
To reveal the love of His heart He expounds "to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself". And as He expounds He passes before them the touching story of His sufferings and His glories. The disciples, with their poor human thoughts, would have spared Him the sufferings. That would have kept His glories from Him.
The change in these two men was a change of subject.
The two disciples had been thinking of the things concerning themselves. The Lord leads them to "the things concerning Himself". Their desire was to bring Christ into their circumstances. He would lead them into His, and have them know Him as the Risen One outside this present evil world.
Anyone who has been moved by good teaching about Christ can guess a little of what that walk was like.
Think what it must have been to hear Him going through the Scriptures from Moses on, and from type, shadow, figure, offering and sacrifice, picking out what told of Himself, and so explaining it that their hearts began to burn. No wonder — the fact was this: they had never met such a Stranger, they had never had such teaching, and never had such company before.
- Scope. "Moses and all the Prophets" means the whole Old Testament. Christ started at page one and left nothing out.
- Centre. Across that whole range He is the one subject: the golden chain binding every part of the volume into one.
- Method. He opened the Scriptures instead of simply appearing. He wanted their faith to rest on the written word, not on what they could see.
- Order. What He drew out was sufferings first and glory after — the very sequence their hopes had reversed.
- Result. He turns hearts from their own concerns to Himself, and has them know Him as the Risen One outside this present world.
And they drew near to the village where they were going, and *he* made as though he would go farther.
The two disciples reach their village at the end of the day. The risen Lord walks with them, still unrecognised. He then acts as if He is travelling on. It looks like a small detail. But everything that follows at Emmaus turns on it.
He had walked the whole road with them. Even so, He does not invite Himself in. He leaves the next move to them.
How beautiful that touch is. Christ never forces His company on us. He did not force it that day, and He does not do it today. I can tell you exactly how much of Christ you will get. As much as you really want. "He acted as if He were going farther." And now the right state appears. They constrained Him, saying, "Abide with us." Here we see the courtesy that always marked Him. It was one of the perfections of His path as a Man. What right had He to enter that house? He had a right, but He did not assert it. The question was this: did they want Him?
To their eyes He was only a fellow traveller who had fallen in beside them. A stranger has no claim on a home. What we know Him to be decides what He claims.
"He acted as if He were going farther." How perfect that little movement was! What title had He, a Stranger as He seemed to be, to push Himself on them? He had only joined them on the road, with the courtesy of someone travelling the same way. What right had such a person to cross their threshold? If Jesus is only a Stranger in our eyes, He will still walk outside. Until we know Him as the Saviour, the Lover of our souls, He asks for nothing. But when we know Him as the Son of God who has loved us and given Himself for us, then He claims a place in our hearts and our homes. Then He will live with us and eat with us, as it were, uninvited.
The move is deliberate. Having spent the road opening the Scriptures to them, He now puts their new-found affection to the proof.
The Lord had exposed their hearts and revealed His heart, but for what purpose? Clearly to lead them to desire His company above everything else. Now He will test them to see if His purpose has been reached... He had drawn near to win their hearts; He will now draw away to lead out their hearts in longing desire after Him. And they respond beautifully to the Lord's testing. He wants them. He had endured the sufferings of the cross to have them. But He has so dealt with them that at last they want Him.
Was He unwilling to stay? From the outside the move looks like a refusal. From His heart it is the opposite.
The deepest love was shown in that action of the Blessed One. If you look at it merely from the outside, you would fail to see how blessed it is. But He drew off so that He might draw out. Though He tried to leave them, His heart was toward them... How gladly He goes! That is why He drew off. Blessed be His name forever, He loves to be constrained.
Their reply in the next verse is no polite offer. The word itself carries weight — and it met no resistance in Him.
He knew the state of their souls, and that there was still more work to be done before they were fully restored. That further work was the revelation of Himself. So when He acted as if He were going farther, it was only to bring out the request He knew would come — that He would stay with them. The word "constrain" is a strong one; its force is that they would take no denial... How much, we might say, they would have lost if they had not constrained Him to enter!
Writers connect this scene with the risen Christ standing outside a door and knocking. Once inside, the roles quietly reverse.
The Lord will not force His presence where and when it is not wanted. The heartbroken travellers to Emmaus constrained Him to enter, and He went in to stay with them. In the presence of the risen Jesus everything is changed: He becomes the host and they His guests.
- He draws near. On the road He exposes their hearts and reveals His own, kindling a desire He means to test.
- He draws back. Reaching the village He acts as though going on — not coldness, but love drawing off to draw out.
- He waits. He never forces His company; we get as much of Christ as we truly want.
- They constrain. Their words take no denial, and He loves to be constrained.
- He enters. Inside, everything changes: the Guest becomes the Host and they His guests.
And they constrained him, saying, Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is declining. And he entered in to stay with them.
The two travellers reach their village, and their companion acts as if He will walk on. Their plea, stay with us, raises two questions: why did He act that way, and why does such a plea please Him so much?
He had drawn near to them on the road. Commentators see the moment at the door as a test: did they now want His company?
The Lord had exposed their hearts and revealed His heart, but to what end? Clearly to lead them to desire His company above all else. Now He will test them to see if the "end of the Lord" is reached... He had drawn near to win their hearts, He will now draw away to lead out their hearts in longing desire after Him. And very blessedly they respond to the testing of the Lord... He wants them. He endured the sufferings of the cross to have them. But He has so dealt with them that at last they want Him.
The ESV says the disciples "urged him strongly" and asked Him to "stay." Older translations say they "constrained" Him and asked Him to "abide."
Only twice is the word here translated "constrained" found in the New Testament. The other place uses it in exactly the same way. Lydia "constrained" Paul and Silas to stay with her (Acts 16:15). In the same way the two disciples "constrained" our blessed Lord, saying, "Abide with us." It is a strong word. In classical Greek it can even mean doing violence to someone. In the passages referred to, it means constraining in the sense of taking no denial. How such a constraint must have delighted the Lord's heart! With what joy He would answer a plea pressed like that!
He does not force His way in. One writer notes that the pressure runs both ways between Christ and His people.
He will never compel me to have His company. I do not deny what I may call the compulsion of grace upon the sinner. But with a believer He does not act like that. Do you and I covet His company? "He made as though He would have gone further"... There is such a thing as the love of Christ constraining us. But here it was the love of saints constraining Him. It is reciprocal constraint.
They asked because the light was fading. Notice what He did not do about it.
It was not that He revived the day. He did not turn the shadow back on the sundial, not even by one degree. He did not command the sun to stand still. The day still declined. But they had found One who could comfort them among the shadows. So when they reached the point where their ways seemed to divide — for He made as if He would go further — they could not part with Him. They had to keep Him as their comfort in the darkness of the night.
That plea, in its older wording, has travelled far beyond Emmaus:
Luke 24:29. — "Stay." The Authorized Version has "abide," which inspired Lyte's well-known hymn, "Abide with me."
One writer applies the scene to our own homes.
We get as much of the Lord's company as we desire, and if He is to stay with us we must constrain Him. These two disciples constrained Him and He entered their house and stayed with them. First He put them right about Himself, individually, and then He took His place in their home: He was Lord there. It is the only place He can take... They supposed that He was their guest, but in fact they were His guests.
The verse is read as a pattern for believers whose own day is running out.
The disciples on their way to Emmaus asked the Lord: "Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent"... Look at the state of His testimony on earth. Don't we have to say, "it is toward evening" and the day of grace is "far spent"? Is there not the same desire in our hearts, to ask: "Lord, abide with us, be near to us"? This verse shows that the attitude of a broken heart has the assurance of His nearness.
- He withdraws. The move to go further was not indifference but testing — He drew away to draw out their desire for Him.
- They constrain. The word means taking no denial; the only other time it appears, Lydia used the same pressure on Paul and Silas.
- He never forces. He never compels a believer to keep Him, and we get as much of His company as we desire.
- He abides. He did not turn the day back or stop the sun; He became their comfort inside the darkness that stayed.
- He reigns. Invited in as a guest, He took the place of Lord in the house — the pattern for any home that gives Him first place.
And it came to pass as he was at table with them, having taken the bread, he blessed, and having broken it, gave it to them.
Two grieving disciples had asked a stranger to stay the night. At the table He reversed the roles and served them Himself. Two questions follow: what did this simple act mean, and why did they know Him at that exact moment?
The house was theirs. But the moment He handled the bread, the evening changed hands.
Here of course He takes His true place. He must be the master of the house. He is not the guest now. All is His. And sitting at the table, what does He do? "He took bread, and blessed it, and broke it, and gave it to them." At once there is a recognition of Himself, and of His authority.
The act carried a claim no ordinary visitor could make.
Sitting down to a meal with them, the Lord took the place of the host without warning. He took bread, blessed it by giving thanks, broke it, and gave it to these two disciples. Only the Son of God would have the right to do this in the home of another.
The word "blessed" can sound mysterious, as if He worked something on the bread itself. Older translations read "blessed it," while the ESV has simply "he took the bread and blessed." One writer keeps the sense plain.
The Jews already practised the breaking of bread. They broke bread with those who were grieving (Jeremiah 16:7). The Lord took up this custom for the breaking of bread. "He took bread, and blessed it" (Luke 24:30) means He gave thanks to God, no more.
The setting is worth noticing too.
At the evening meal in Emmaus, He "took bread, and blessed" (Luke 24:30). This time the meal was private, not public. It was in the house, not on the hillside. Probably only two people were there with the Lord, not a great crowd. The risen Lord gave thanks at a little cottage meal!
Was this the Lord's Supper? Commentators say no — but the act was chosen with purpose.
This was not the Lord's Supper. But Jesus deliberately used that act of breaking the bread, the act the Lord's Supper keeps setting before us. In it, as we know, bread is broken — the sign of His death. So Jesus, there with them Himself, was pleased to let the truth of His death flash upon the two souls at Emmaus. They came to know Him in the breaking of bread — in that most simple but striking action which symbolises His death.
Teaching alone had not opened their eyes. Recognition came through an act tied to His death.
We are to feed on Christ — not only as a living Messiah, and not only as the One alive again for ever in resurrection. We must feed on Him as the One who died, His body broken and His blood shed in atonement. This is how the Lord was known to the disciples at Emmaus, though it was not the Lord's Supper... But what actually revealed Him was the moving fact of His being personally with them in the breaking of bread. It was Himself who broke the bread. There could be no mistake.
The same act pointed forward as well as back — it cut them loose from the old way of knowing Him.
By making Himself known in the meaningful act of "breaking bread," the Lord showed plainly that His death had cut them off from every connection with Him "after the flesh." At the same time it drew their hearts after Him as the One "risen out of death."
This scene reaches any home that welcomes Him.
They supposed that He was their guest, but as a matter of fact they were His guests. He took bread, and blessed it and handed it to them. There was in that village of Emmaus one home at least that recognised Him as Lord. We may only have a small cottage, perhaps only one room. But what a wonderful thing to be able to say: "Within the four walls of this room the Lord has His true place."
And what happened over a plain supper can happen again in unremarkable moments.
Wherever the heart is made ready by faith in the word of God and submission to it, the Lord will bring His past grace back to us. He does this in many a simple act — not necessarily in the "breaking of bread," but in countless little ways. Then the heart may not only burn; there is a flash of recognition of Himself, and the soul is restored to the enjoyment it knew before.
- Invited — They thought they had welcomed a guest into their home; in fact they were His guests.
- Enthroned — At the table He took the host's place, an authority the writers say belongs to the Son of God alone.
- Blessed — The word means simply that He gave thanks to God, and He did it at a small private meal, not a public one.
- Broken — Not the Lord's Supper, but the same telling act: bread broken as the sign of His death.
- Revealed — Recognition came through that sign. He is known as the One who died and rose again, not as they had known Him before.
And their eyes were opened, and they recognised him. And he disappeared from them.
Two travellers walked the road to Emmaus beside a companion they could not place. They knew Him at last over a meal — so why did their eyes open just then, and why did He go the instant they saw Him?
They knew Him over a broken loaf. Kelly ties that detail to the one sure way of knowing Jesus.
There is only one way of knowing Jesus that can be trusted… So our Lord breaks bread with the disciples. This was not the Lord's Supper. But Jesus used that act of breaking bread with meaning, the same act the Lord's Supper keeps setting before us. In it bread is broken, and that is the sign of His death… He had blessed the bread, broken it, and was handing it to them. Just then their eyes were opened, and they recognised their risen Lord.
Darby takes it further. What they needed was not His presence in the body, but His death.
It was no longer just a question of His bodily presence as the One who had come in flesh. Redemption was necessary, and so was faith in it. We are to feed on Christ not only as a living Messiah, and not only as the One who is alive again for evermore in resurrection. We must also feed on Him as the One who died, His body broken and His blood shed in atonement… He was gone in a moment — "vanished from their sight." But He gained what He came for. They had life through His death.
They had invited Him in as a stranger. At the table the roles reverse. He takes the host's place, and their eyes open.
But if He stoops to sit at a meal with His own people, He must always take the first place. He must be supreme in every circle He enters. Let us remember this when we want His presence. So HE took the bread, and blessed and broke it and gave it to them… This simple act of our blessed Lord opened their eyes. They knew Him, and He vanished from their sight… But why did He leave so quickly? His work was done. He had found His wandering sheep, and He had restored their souls.
He goes the very moment they know Him. Hole finds the reason in another meeting that same day.
But why did He withdraw from their sight just as they had recognized Him? For the same reason, no doubt, that He had told Mary not to touch Him earlier that same day (see John 20:17). He wanted to show them from the start that resurrection had brought Him into new conditions. So their dealings with Him had to rest on a new basis.
Seeing Him with their own eyes had not made them know Him. Losing sight of Him did.
Under His teaching they had just seen that He Himself was the theme of all Scripture. Yet even while they listened, and their hearts burned as they did, they only saw Him with their natural eyes. They did not know Him. Now He vanishes from sight, and they do know Him by faith. What an exchange!
Before He revealed Himself, He had spent the road turning them back to the Scriptures. Stuart notes what He did not do.
The written Word was enough to have taught them all that had happened. He first rebuked them for being slow of heart to believe it, and then turned them to it. He would settle their faith on what God had already given. He gave them no fresh revelation. They had to stand on the written word of God. That done, He made Himself known as risen from the dead. His work with them was finished. He vanished from their sight.
Hamilton Smith reads the shortness of the visit as purpose, not loss.
So at last the Lord does come into their circumstances for a brief moment. But He comes only to lead them out of their circumstances into His own. Having made Himself known, He vanishes from their sight… But how did they know Him? Not as in the days before the cross, in their circumstances, but as the One who was dead but is alive for evermore.
The effect was immediate. Despite the miles already walked and the coming night, they turned around.
They at once retrace their steps in their earnest desire to join the little company of the Lord's people gathered together at Jerusalem. And having reached their own company they find, to their great delight, that they are in the company of the Risen Lord, and in His company there is no room for dissatisfied or disappointed hearts.
- Word first. He gave them no new revelation on the road. He settled their faith on what God had already written, and then made Himself known.
- Sign second. Their eyes open over broken bread, the sign of His death. This was not the Lord's Supper, but the act carried the same meaning.
- Place third. The invited guest takes the first place at the table. They know Him once He is supreme in the room.
- Sight withdrawn. He disappears to teach them the new ground of resurrection. From now on they hold Him by faith, not by sight.
- Circle exchanged. He steps into their world for one moment, only to lead them out of it into His.
And they said to one another, Was not our heart burning in us as he spoke to us on the way, [and] as he opened the scriptures to us?
Two disciples left Jerusalem in disappointment, and a stranger walked with them, opened the Scriptures, then vanished the moment they knew Him. Only afterwards did they name what had been happening inside them, and their question still asks what makes a heart burn.
The verse names two things: His talking, and His opening of the Scriptures. One writer looks behind both, to the Person doing them.
Now, I do not think we ought to play down that burning heart. I am always afraid of that. We ought not to make little of it, and yet we ought not to make everything of it. What was it that made their heart burn while He talked with them and while He opened the Scriptures to them? Was it not Himself? Do not tell me that anything He does is small or trifling. It was He who did it. It was He who lit that fire, He who kindled that flame. It was His love that struck, as it were, the match in their souls.
Earlier on the road He had called them slow of heart. The change between that word and this one is the measure of what He did.
He does not stop there. Discovering what is in our hearts matters greatly in the work of restoration, but it is not enough to restore us. We do need true thoughts about our own hearts, so we can learn how we wander into a wrong path. But only true thoughts of His heart will bring our feet back to a right path. This is the way the Lord takes with the two disciples. Having exposed everything that was in their hearts, He reveals everything that is in His heart. And revealing what is in His heart turns their "slow hearts" into "burning hearts" (25, 32). He sets their hearts ablaze with love to Himself by revealing the love that is in His heart.
What He opened was not a selection. It was all of it, and He was its subject.
They had their favourite texts and had dwelt on them. They had not taken in all the Scriptures, and had not realised that He was the theme of the Scriptures. If we realise that, we shall pay greater attention to them. We shall read them more often and not live on our favourite texts. As He talked with them, His words gladdened and warmed them, although they did not know who He was. He was talking about the right Person, and they loved Him. Their hearts were moved as He opened the Scriptures to them. So although they did not know Him, He took His right place in their thoughts.
Later in the same chapter He opens something else. Only He can give that second opening.
We shall make little progress in divine understanding unless we take time to meditate. The apostle can set certain truths before us, but he cannot give us understanding. This the Lord alone can do. So we read that the Lord did not only open the Scriptures to the disciples. He also opened their minds to understand the Scriptures (Luke 24:27, 32, 45).
One writer turns the disciples' question into a question for the reader, and does not soften it.
It is a wonderful thing when God opens up the Scriptures, because ministry that presents Christ this way always makes the heart burn. If the Spirit of God comes and ministers Christ in His love, grace, beauty, and glory to your soul, you may depend on it, your heart will respond. And if it does not respond, you may well question whether you are a child of God at all… Do you say, "You will set many of our hearts shaking"? Well, if they shake first and burn after, it will be all right. And if they never burn, there is something wrong somewhere.
They had finished their day's journey. Their burning hearts sent them straight back out.
They had enjoyed sweet conversation with Him, their hearts burning within them while He talked with them on the road, and while He opened up the Scriptures to them. They must return at once, and let those at Jerusalem who had been mourning and weeping (Mark 16:10) know what they had to tell. Spiritual joy is unselfish. There is the desire that others should share in it. Those sixty furlongs — about eight miles — no doubt seemed like nothing as they walked, intent on rejoining the company in the upper room.
- Kindled — no subject and no conversation lit that fire. Christ Himself did, and His love struck the match.
- Melted — He exposed their slow hearts, then revealed His own. His heart is what turned slow into burning.
- Opened — He gave them all the Scriptures with Himself as the theme, curing them of living on a few favourite texts.
- Understood — He opens the Scriptures, and He opens the mind. Teaching can set truth before us; only He makes us see it.
- Sent — a burning heart cannot sit still or keep the joy; it walks the eight miles back to tell the others.