"Footprints" | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | April 19, 2026

Sermon Preached: Sunday, April 19, 2026 at Trinity on the Green

Year A, Third Sunday after Easter: Acts 2:14a,36-41 | 1 Peter 1:17-23 | Luke 24:13-35 | Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17

May I speak in the name of the Risen Lord. Amen.

When I was a child, one of my most cherished items was a small plaque that stood on the headboard of my bed. This plaque featured a poem, mounted on dark colored wood with a beveled edge– that beveled edge was how you knew it was an important object. Sometimes I would look up at the poem before I went to sleep. It’s a poem that you will probably recognize (spoiler alert: it doesn’t rhyme), and it goes like this:

One night I had a dream...

I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord, and across the sky flashed scenes from my life. For each scene I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand; One belonged to me, and the other to the Lord. When the last scene of my life flashed before us, I looked back at the footprints in the sand. I noticed that many times along the path of my life, there was only one set of footprints.

I also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in my life. This really bothered me, and I questioned the Lord about it. "Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you would walk with me all the way; But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why in times when I needed you the most, you should leave me.

The Lord replied, "My precious, precious child. I love you, and I would never, never leave you during your times of trial and suffering. When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

These, of course, are the words of the Footprints Prayer. On the plaque that sat beside my bed, these words were printed over a background image of a beach scene at twilight, all purples and pinks and blues, with a trail of footprints in the sand disappearing in the distance. I thought about these words a lot. I prayed with these words, from childhood into becoming a young adult.

The Footprints Prayer is so famous that some people expect it to be in the Bible. But it isn’t. It’s a poem written in the 20th century with several different people claiming to be its author— a fascinating story in and of itself. The poem is of course based on understandings of God that we learn from the Bible: understandings of God as steadfast, present in our sufferings, a companion on all our journeys. But if we were to look for a part of the Bible that most resembles the Footprints Prayer, I think it would be the story from today’s Gospel reading: Jesus encountering the disciples on the road to Emmaus.

There are a number of similarities between these stories. In each narrative, followers of Christ find themselves on a journey only to realize later that Jesus was with them all along. That element of holy hindsight is key in both stories, though it functions a little bit differently in each. Both stories also feature a journey– one of them an allegory for life, the other one a literal seven mile journey between Jerusalem and a village called Emmaus. Both of these stories involve a conversation with Jesus, a conversation that reveals just who God is to us.

But now we get into the differences– and it’s those differences that I’d like to reflect on more deeply this morning. First of all there are the obvious differences of time and place. While the Footprints Prayer was written in the 20th century in the United States, and reflects the particular religious gifts of that time and place; the story of the Road to Emmaus is part of Holy Scripture. It is situated within the context of history, two thousand years ago. This story isn’t a beautiful metaphor, but a story that we believe to be true– one of those few precious accounts of Jesus’ post-resurrection visits with the disciples.

There are two differences within these stories themselves that stand out to me; two differences that invite me to think differently about the Road to Emmaus, and how God is speaking to us through this part of Holy Scripture.

This first difference I note is this: while the Footprints Prayer is a two-way conversation between a believer and God, the story of the Road to Emmaus is about the faith that we find in community. Even before Jesus arrives on the scene, there are two disciples on the road: one named Cleopas, and the other an unnamed disciple. These two disciples would have had two distinct relationships with Jesus, and again a different kind of relationship with each other. When Jesus appears, he appears to them both. When it is time for dinner, they break bread together. Their faith is not a private matter; it’s a collective matter. It’s a matter of shared sadness; and later, shared joy.

In the church I grew up in, I knew it was important to have a personal relationship with Jesus. But I always viewed that relationship as a one-on-one conversation– a private, personal thing. The faith I have grown into, and the faith of the disciples on the Road to Emmaus, reminds me that faith is always collective and communal. As Jesus teaches the disciples elsewhere in the Gospel of Matthew, “wherever two or three are gathered in my name, I am there with them” (Matthew 18:20). I still believe that it is important to have a personal relationship with God– but I also believe that good, healthy relationships never exist in a vacuum. Our faith is meant to be shared– and not only in an evangelistic sense. It is meant to be shared through meandering journeys on dusty roads. It is meant to be shared in meandering conversations with questions that might not have ready answers. It is meant to be shared in the breaking of bread and the sharing of a cup, that fundamental act of eating together even when we are hurting; even when pain and hurt and difference remain in our midst.

The second difference that I notice today, between the Footprints Prayer and the Road to Emmaus, occurs at the end of the story. In the Footprints Prayer, the narrative ends when God assures the traveller that God has been there all along, using words of encouragement that sound almost like an embrace. But in Emmaus, as soon as the disciples recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread— he vanishes. Jesus is gone. What are we to make of this Jesus who leaves us, as soon as we recognize he is there?

It turns out that this is the way of the resurrected Jesus, not only in this story but in other resurrection stories too. It’s as if the resurrected Jesus has one foot in this world, and one in the next. Consider Jesus’ very first encounter with Mary Magdalene in the garden, in the Gospel of John. At first Jesus appears as a stranger to her, just like the disciples on the road to Emmaus. But as soon as Mary recognizes Jesus, his first words to her are: “Do not hold on to me!” Jesus doesn’t want the disciples to cling to him. It isn’t that Jesus wants to abandon them, in the garden or on the Road to Emmaus. Instead, Jesus knows that it’s in our human nature to hold on a little too tight. When we hold on too tightly to one particular image of Jesus, one particular experience of who Jesus is– these are the moments when we stunt our own faith. We put God in a box of our own making, instead of giving God the space to be the Savior that we need– not the Savior that we think we need, but a Savior who will always challenge and surprise and expand our hearts, and souls, and minds.

As much as I crave the closure that we get in the Footprints Prayer, I think the open-ended nature of the Road to Emmaus resonates more with the experience of faith in our everyday lives. Our faith is open-ended; it is a work in progress; it is so much more complicated than a straight line of footprints in the sand– and that doesn’t make it any less beautiful. As you go out on your journey this week, remember these two things: First, we are not on the journey alone, both because God is with us and because other people are with us too. The journey of faith is something we embark on together. And second, remember this: we cannot hold onto Jesus. As much as we might want to sit at the table forever, to stay in those places where we see God most clearly, we have to let go and get back on our journey. And this is, ultimately, a good thing. Because God is far more expansive than we can ever imagine. God is not only in the bread and wine. God is in all things. As the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins put it, “The world is charged with the grandeur of God.” (“God’s Grandeur,” by Gerard Manley Hopkins)

I believe our lives are covered with the footprints of Jesus. They may not always go in a straight line, and some of the steps might soon be washed away by waves. But take comfort in believing that the geology of your life is well known and well-travelled by the God of the universe. Pay attention to the footprints in the sand– not just as reminders of God’s presence, but as steps that we might follow. Go forth to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, trusting that God is with us in our grief, in our questions, in our joy. Amen.