The Emmaus Road of Our Faith
There is a quiet, hidden shame that accompanies a dry spiritual season. You sit in your chair, the house is quiet, and you open the leather-bound book that you know holds the words of eternal life. But as your eyes scan the page, nothing happens. It feels like reading a dictionary. The ink feels dry. The history feels distant. You close the book and wonder, 'What is wrong with me? Why is my heart so cold?' If you are asking how to read the Bible when your spirit feels like a wasteland, I want you to stop right here and take a deep breath. You are not the first person to stare directly at the Word of God and feel absolutely nothing.
Think about the road to Emmaus. Two disciples are walking away from Jerusalem. Their hope is shattered. The man they thought was the Messiah has been crucified. They are deep in grief, traumatized by the events of the weekend, and completely disillusioned. And right there, in the middle of their deepest spiritual depression, Jesus Himself walks up and joins them on the dirt road. The living Word of God is matching their pace, stride for stride. But the Scripture tells us something incredibly profound about our own spiritual blindness in seasons of sorrow.
Notice what Jesus does. He doesn’t rebuke them for their sadness. He doesn’t yell at them for failing to recognize Him. He asks them a question. He invites them to process their pain. Sometimes, when we approach the Scriptures, our eyes are holden by our own grief, our exhaustion, or our anxiety. We are carrying so much mental and emotional weight that we cannot recognize the Savior standing right in front of us in the text. Jesus is drawing near to you in those dry chapters. He is walking with you through the genealogies and the prophets. He sees that you are sad. He sees that you are tired. Do not mistake your inability to feel Him for His absence.
And it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know him. And he said unto them, What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad?— Luke 24:15-17, KJV
Digging for the Hidden Treasure
In our modern culture, we are addicted to immediate gratification. We want quick fixes. We scour the internet for Bible reading tips that will magically unlock a profound, emotional spiritual awakening in five minutes or less. We want the drive-thru version of divine revelation. But the Kingdom of God does not operate on our frantic timelines. You cannot force a spiritual harvest by yelling at the soil. I want you to sit with this word for a minute. Digest it. Some of us run off too fast. We read a chapter, feel nothing, slam the book shut, and run off into our day with heartburn. God is asking you to slow down. He is asking you to linger in the field.
The kingdom of heaven is a hidden treasure. It is not lying on the surface for the casual observer to trip over. It is buried. It requires a willingness to stop running, buy the field, and start digging. When the Bible feels dead, it is often because we are treating it like a textbook to be skimmed rather than a field to be excavated. We read for information rather than transformation. But the man in the parable sold all that he had to buy that field. What do you need to let go of today to find the joy of the Word again?
Maybe you need to let go of the expectation that every time you open the Bible, you will have a weeping, mountaintop experience. Maybe you need to sell the distraction of your phone. Put your phone down. Shut out the noise. Give God your undivided attention, even if all you have to offer is a tired, broken heart. The treasure is still there. The value of the Word does not change based on your emotional capacity to appreciate it on any given Tuesday. Digging is hard work. It produces calluses. But the treasure you find in the dirt of your hardest seasons will sustain you for the rest of your life.
Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field.— Matthew 13:44, KJV
Letting the Word Cut Through the Calluses
There is a profound mystery in how the Scriptures operate on the human soul. We tend to judge the effectiveness of our Bible reading by how we feel when we say 'Amen.' But the Word of God is not a sentiment; it is a surgical instrument. We know from Hebrews 4:12 that the Word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit. When you are under spiritual anesthesia, you do not feel the surgeon's scalpel. You do not feel the root of bitterness being removed. You do not feel the realignment of your desires. But the surgery is happening nonetheless.
Mary and Joseph spent three days looking for Jesus. They sought Him sorrowing. They were panicked, thinking they had lost Him. Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever searched the Scriptures, weeping, feeling like you have lost your connection to God? 'Lord, why have You dealt with me this way? Why can't I find You?' And when they finally find Him, Jesus is in the temple, completely calm, doing the work of the Father. He was never lost. He was exactly where He was supposed to be, doing exactly what He was supposed to do.
When you are reading the Bible and it feels like God is silent, I want you to know that He is about His Father's business in your life. The Word is working in the deep, unseen places of your heart. It is anchoring your mind. It is washing your spirit. It is fortifying your soul against attacks you don't even know are coming yet. Do not trust your feelings over the faithfulness of God. Even when you are seeking Him sorrowing, He is seated in the temple of your heart, establishing His kingdom.
And when they saw him, they were amazed: and his mother said unto him, Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing. And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business?— Luke 2:48-49, KJV
Preparing the Upper Room of Your Heart
So, what do we do tomorrow morning? When the alarm goes off and the house is cold and the Bible on the nightstand looks heavy? We prepare. We make a deliberate, conscious choice to set the table for communion with the Lord, regardless of our emotional state. Jesus told His disciples exactly how to handle the preparation for the most important meal of their lives.
Jesus desires to eat with you. He desires to sit with you at the table of His Word and nourish your starving spirit. But there is a preparation that must take place. You have to clear off the table. You have to remove the clutter of your anxiety, your to-do lists, and your worldly distractions. You don't have to manufacture a feeling; you just have to show up and set the table. Open the Book. Read the chapter. Whisper the prayer.
God wants you to know today that anytime your spiritual life feels like it has died, go back to where you started. Go back to the raw, unadulterated Word of God. Stand with the One who will never leave you nor forsake you. Read it out loud until your ears hear what your heart is struggling to believe. The God who breathed life into dust in the Garden of Eden is more than capable of breathing life back into your dry bones. Keep reading. Keep seeking. The Word is not dead; it is waiting for you to awaken.
And he sent Peter and John, saying, Go and prepare us the passover, that we may eat. And they said unto him, Where wilt thou that we prepare?— Luke 22:8-9, KJV
The next time you open your Bible and the words seem to blur together in a dry, lifeless page, do not close it in defeat. Run your fingers over the text and remember that Jesus walked out of a sealed tomb so that He could walk with you on your Emmaus road. The pages are not empty history; they are the very breath of God. Hold fast to the truth that the Lord is actively redeeming your dry seasons. He is the treasure in the field, the surgeon of your soul, and the Savior who prepares a table for you in the wilderness. Keep digging, beloved. The living water is just beneath the surface.