I bet many of you remember March 11th. A lot happened that Wednesday. That was the night President Trump barred flights entering the US from Europe, the NBA put an immediate halt to their season, and the unfortunate reality of what had been looming came into most of the nation’s consciousness.

Earlier in the day that Wednesday, about 9:30 or so, I was sitting in my office over there and I received a call from Julie. And she doesn’t have a poker voice. Clearly rattled, she said, “Matt, I think lightning just struck a tree in the front yard. It sounded like a bomb.” I can’t remember what I said to Debbie on the way out the door, but it was probably not measured. I drove the 6 minutes home and, as I approached, saw tree debris in the road, in our driveway, and all over the yard.

A small distance from our front door, this is not a small tree. Various tree guys told me this Pin Oak was around 80 years old and nearly 100 feet tall. And this Wednesday bark shot off both sides of it, the electricity from the strike went down into the tree’s roots, and in making its escape that lightning created a significant ditch in the front yard leading to our mailbox. And there it looked like some jokester took the 5 to 10–pound rocks encircling our mailbox and threw them up in the air to land wherever they wanted. It was quite a scene.

On March 11th, deeply rooted things in my front yard were revealed to be less permanent, less lasting, than we’d assumed.

In our text today, it’s evening on Easter Sunday. Early that morning, when the women went to the tomb, they did not find the body of their crucified Friend. Instead, angels had news for them. That afternoon, two people were walking toward Emmaus when an unrecognized third person joined their conversation, asked a few questions of them, and then answered all the questions ever asked. Then, over dinner that same night, their eyes were opened and they recognized the Man. Then He was gone.

The eleven disciples had already been told by the women what the angels announced that morning. Now these two on the road to Emmaus quickly leave their dinner––that same hour––and rush to the eleven to tell them the truths they’d already heard (Luke 24:34). That’s the scene.

Note, first:

1. This can’t be real (vv. 36–37)

Verse 36: As they were talking about these things. As they were talking about what things? While it’s been a month since we celebrated Easter, it’s only been a few hours since the eleven heard the women return with a story like none they’d ever heard before.[1] And then these other two, people they’d trusted, came late that afternoon with the same news. First, they hear, “He’s been seen.” Then they hear, “we’ve seen him too!” The events are coming quickly––one after the other––and they’re talking with one another, attempting to process it all that Easter evening. What are they talking about? What else would they be talking about? Then verse 36: As they were talking about these things, Jesus himself stood among them. He’s been seen. “We saw Him too!” Verse 36: Here He is.

Pastor Phil preached from the parallel account in John 20 just a few weeks ago for the church anniversary.[2] In that passage, we know that the doors were locked to this room.[3] Nonetheless, verse 36 continues: Jesus himself stood among them, and said to them, “Peace to you!”

How many times do you think He’d said this phrase before to the eleven? Leon Morris says it was the normal greeting of the day.[4] Maybe you can think of phrases you’ve heard from the same person over and over again. My dad is one of the funniest humans alive. And 30 something years in, I still laugh at the jokes I know are coming. For example, if I don’t call him for a few days, when I do he’ll answer the phone saying, “Uh . . . who is this?” I know all the aspects of his vocal delivery, the timing, the timbre of his voice, the inflection. I’ve heard him say it a few times.

The eleven had heard rumors of Jesus being alive. For the past few minutes, ma[...]