Deacon Tam Tran

AWARENESS

“Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!” (Luke 24:25).
“Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized Him.” (Luke 24:31)

One minute, you are happily down on the floor playing with your child. Blocks everywhere. Toys under your knees. Life is good. The next minute, your child politely asks you to move over because you are sitting in Candy’s spot. Candy, you quickly learn, is an invisible friend who lives somewhere in your child’s room. Oh—and would you mind leaving the room? Candy prefers privacy.

Welcome to the magical world of imaginary friends.

Imaginary friends are very common. About 65% of children have them, usually around age two-and-a-half to three. Psychologists tell us this is actually a good thing. It means imagination is developing. Children like imaginary friends because they are always available, never argue, and never need to go home for dinner. According to experts, imaginary friends help kids process emotions, loneliness, boredom, and creativity.

The good news is that imaginary friends are not real—and most kids know that. The even better news is that imaginary friends usually move on by age nine. They fade away quietly as kids discover real friendships, school drama, and siblings who won’t stop touching their stuff.

In other words, imaginary friends are harmless. Temporary. Unreal.

Unfortunately, when it comes to faith, many adults treat Jesus exactly like an imaginary friend.

In the Gospel of Luke, chapter 24, we meet two disciples walking on the road to Emmaus, a village about seven miles from Jerusalem. This is not a metaphorical stroll.

It’s a real walk. Seven miles. No Uber. No podcasts. Just walking, talking, and trying to make sense of the most confusing week of their lives.

Jesus joins them.

And here’s the shocking part: they don’t recognize Him.

This isn’t because Jesus looks like a ghost or because He’s glowing or floating six inches off the ground. He looks normal. Too normal. So normal that they spend two to three hours walking with Him, talking about Him, debating theology with Him, and explaining recent events to Him—without realizing they are talking to Him.

Jesus listens patiently, then finally says what many of us probably need to hear from time to time: “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!” (Luke 24:25). That’s Jesus’ polite, first-century version of “Did you even read the Bible?”

Then He explains the Scriptures. All of them. The ones that point directly to Him. It’s the greatest Bible study in history—and they miss the Teacher standing right in front of them.

As they reach Emmaus, Jesus pretends He’s going farther. They urge Him to stay.
Evening is coming. Dinner sounds good. And something about this stranger feels familiar—even if they can’t quite explain why.

Then it happens.

Jesus takes bread. He blesses it. He breaks it. He gives it to them.
“Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized Him.” (Luke 24:31)

And immediately—He vanishes.

Classic Jesus.

In that moment, the disciples learn something life-changing: faith is not about seeing Jesus with your eyes. It’s about recognizing Him with your heart. Fellowship with Jesus would no longer depend on physical presence, but on trust in His word.

They knew about Jesus—but they didn’t know Jesus.

And there is a massive difference.

Knowing about Jesus is easy. Anyone can do that. You can read books, hear sermons, quote verses, and still walk right past Him without noticing. Knowing Jesus requires awareness—spiritual awareness.

The Emmaus journey is both literal and spiritual. On one level, it’s a story about two disappointed disciples walking home. On another level, it’s our story. All of us, at some point, walk with Jesus without recognizing Him.

We walk with Him through grief, confusion, stress, unanswered prayers, and ordinary routines. He’s there when we’re driving to work, doing laundry, sitting in traffic, or scrolling endlessly on our phones—yet we don’t notice Him. Not because He’s absent, but because we’re distracted.

Like imaginary friends, we sometimes relegate Jesus to a corner of our lives—someone we acknowledge, but don’t fully engage. We talk about Him instead of with Him. We assume He shows up only in big moments, church services, or emergencies.

But Jesus walks seven quiet miles with confused disciples.

That’s the Gospel.

The problem is never Jesus’ presence. The problem is our awareness of His presence.

In daily life, this matters more than we think. We pray quickly but listen slowly. We ask for guidance but ignore Scripture. We look for miracles while missing meaning. We want Jesus to reveal Himself—but only on our schedule and in ways we find obvious.

The disciples recognized Jesus when He broke bread—something deeply familiar.

Sometimes Jesus shows up not in dramatic moments, but in ordinary ones: shared meals, simple prayers, quiet conversations, unexpected peace.

Faith grows when awareness grows.

And here’s the good news: even when we don’t recognize Him, Jesus still walks with us. He explains. He listens. He waits. He breaks bread again and again until our eyes open.

Unlike imaginary friends, Jesus doesn’t fade away when we grow up. He becomes clearer—if we learn to see.

So today, remember this: Jesus is not imaginary. He is resurrected. He is real. He is present.

The only question is—are we aware?
Because we are all on the road to Emmaus. And Jesus is already walking beside us.