Monday, April 21, 2025
Scripture Readings
Devotional Thought
The reading plan rests today, and so do we — but the Bible does not. On this Monday after Easter, when the chocolate is half gone and the lilies are just beginning to droop, the lectionary gives us no assigned passage, no psalm portion, no chapter to parse. There is only white space where the text should be. And perhaps that is the text.
Think of that first Easter evening. Cleopas and his companion walked the seven miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus, and Luke tells us they talked with each other “of all these things which had happened.” Their words were not Scripture yet; they were raw experience — an empty tomb, women with a strange report, a grief too fresh to organize into doctrine. Jesus Himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were holden. He did not scold them for the blank page. He asked them a question: “What manner of communications are these?” He let them speak the unwritten thing first. Only later, at the table, when He broke the bread, were their eyes opened.
There is a rhythm in the Christian life that our reading plans cannot quite capture. Some days are full of text — genealogies, laws, prophets, psalms piled high. Other days are the road to Emmaus: the Word is near, walking beside us, and we do not yet have words for Him. The empty space is not a failure of devotion. It may be the most honest devotion of all — a heart too full for paragraphs, waiting for the breaking of bread.
It is fitting that this falls the day after Resurrection Sunday. The disciples did not run from the tomb straight into a systematic theology. They went home. They hid. They walked. They wondered. Then Jesus came to them in the ordinary moments — on a road, in an upper room, beside a charcoal fire on a beach. He is not confined to the scheduled reading. He is risen, and He walks.
So today, let the blank page be a gift. Take the walk. Tell Him what happened this weekend — the services, the family, the grief that Easter did not erase, the joy that surprised you. He will draw near, even if your eyes are holden for a while. And when He is ready, He will break the bread, and you will know Him.
Reflection
- What have you been carrying this Easter season that you have not yet put into words — and where might Jesus be walking beside you in it, unseen?
- If the risen Christ asked you today, “What manner of communications are these that you have with yourself?” — what would you honestly say?
Prayer
Lord Jesus, on this quiet Monday, when the page is empty and the alleluias have settled into ordinary air, draw near and walk with us. We do not always have the words. We have griefs we have not named, joys we cannot explain, and questions that will not fit into a devotional. Come alongside us anyway. Ask us the question. Let us speak. And when the day is far spent and the evening comes, stay with us. Break the bread. Open our eyes. Let our hearts burn within us as You talk with us by the way. Amen.