Nearly 10 years ago, a message appeared in our online outreach inbox from a woman with a dangerous question. Shayna* had heard a rumor that some Jews believed in Jesus, and she reached out to us wanting to know if it was true. As I met with Shayna for the first time via video chat, it was clear that she was Haredi. That meant her curiosity alone could carry significant social consequences from her ultra-Orthodox community.

Shayna was searching. She wanted to know who Jesus was and what following him might mean for her future. Together, we began reading the Gospel of John. She would drive outside her neighborhood and park to study in her car, afraid of how her family would react if they discovered her interest in Jesus. By the time we reached the end of chapter three, Shayna shared that she believed Yeshua was the promised Messiah and wanted to follow him.

That confession, however, was only the beginning of a very rocky journey of faith. Shayna has walked toward Jesus—and away again—through grief, fear, and confusion. When a family member discovered her Christian Bible, their reaction was angry and painful. Over time, loneliness and pressure took their toll, and she asked to cut off contact with us entirely.

Three years later, she was open to meeting with us again. She told us she was trying to live a religious life yet found peace sleeping with her Bible under her pillow. She wanted to receive daily devotional texts from us. Shayna is slowly turning back toward Jesus, not through pressure or argument, but through prayer and the assurance that we are willing to walk with her wherever she is.

Jesus does not rush them or interrupt their pain. Instead, he listens patiently

It reminds me of Jesus’ own posture toward the disciples when he joined them on the road to Emmaus. That road is a shared journey—two disciples walking in disappointment and sorrow, unaware that Jesus himself is beside them. As they walk away from Jerusalem with heavy hearts, he does not rush them or interrupt their pain. Instead, he listens patiently as they recount everything that has happened, allowing them to speak from their own understanding.

Though Jesus holds all truth, he does not overwhelm them with correction. He honors their struggle and stays with them in the tension of a world that does not yet look redeemed. This same tension often surfaces in conversations with Haredim: a deep hope for redemption paired with shock at the claim that Yeshua is the one Moses and the Prophets wrote about. Many wrestle with the weight of the Law, unanswered prayers, and the very painful cost of revisiting long-held beliefs.

As a minister among the Haredim, I am continually drawn to Yeshua’s example. And the most humbling lesson is this: the moment of recognition usually does not come during teaching but at the table. When the bread is broken, eyes are opened.

Though teaching the Word is vitally important, recognition of Yeshua rarely comes through intellectual arguments. It comes through shared presence—through hospitality, vulnerability, and staying close in relationship.

The road to Emmaus is a story for all of us. We never walk alone. Yeshua has been beside us the whole time, inviting us to walk with others as he walks with us.

*Name has been changed to protect privacy.