We’re still in the glow of the resurrection. The tomb is empty, hope declared, and yet here we are, not in a burst of celebration but with two disoriented followers walking away from Jerusalem—walking away from the action. They are confused, grieving, and disappointed. The climax has come—and they have missed it.
And then a stranger joins them. Quietly. Without fanfare.
This is not what we expect from a post-resurrection encounter. No heavenly choirs or bold declarations. Instead, it’s a slow conversation, a journey, a shared meal. And only in the breaking of the bread do they recognise Him. Only then do they realise: they were not alone.
It’s a strange story—but perhaps that’s the point.
It reminds us of another quiet parable: the story of the lost sheep. One out of a hundred. Not a strategic focus, not a logical investment. But the shepherd goes anyway. He leaves the ninety-nine to find the one—not because the numbers make sense, but because relationship matters. Because no one is expendable.
That’s a lesson for us too—as individuals, organisations, and a network.
In this post-Easter moment, we find ourselves navigating our own road: one of global instability, shrinking civic space, shifting donor agendas, and internal pressures that tempt us towards self-preservation. The instinct to protect what is “ours” is real—but it is not faithful. And it is not sustainable.
We need to walk this road together.
As EU-CORD, we are more than a collection of organisations. We are a community of Christian agencies, collaborating for a transformed, just and equal world. Whether large or small, well-resourced or under pressure—each member is vital. None of us thrive unless we all find a way forward together.
That’s why our upcoming General Assembly is so important. It’s not just another agenda point. It’s an opportunity to review our strategy, reflect deeply on the world we operate in, and have an honest conversation about what kind of network we want to be. The world is changing, and we must not simply adapt—we must act, rooted in our values, our faith, and our collective calling.
Once again, we are being invited into the Emmaus moment: to stop, to walk with one another, to listen to the stories of confusion, grief, and hope. To break bread, to make space, and to recognise that Christ is with us—even, especially, in the in-between places.
This is not a time to silo ourselves by theme or territory—development, humanitarian, climate, advocacy. Nor is it the time to compete or close ranks. It is a time to show the same solidarity internally that we advocate for externally—a time to nurture trust, voice, and vision.
Strategy alone won’t carry us. What matters more is what we choose to do with it—how we implement it and whether we create spaces where truth can be spoken and hope can be rekindled—spaces where all voices matter, spaces where no one walks alone.
And in all of this, we are reminded of the deeper truth: that our resilience—while important—is not the most remarkable story. As Anne from Medair so beautifully put it in her Christmas message:
“I am thankful for our partnership as we come alongside communities in their times of need. I am inspired by the courage and resilience of those we serve.”
That perspective grounds us. It reminds us that we are not just service providers, saviours, or strategists. We are companions—walking alongside communities whose resilience and courage far outshine our own. They are the ones who teach us what it means to endure and hope.
So, as we prepare to meet, let’s bring not only our plans and papers but also our questions, convictions, and readiness to walk the road together.
Because it is in walking together that hearts begin to burn.
It is in solidarity that Christ becomes visible.
It is in community that resurrection becomes real.
