When a truck driver stops at a diner on Good Friday and agrees to let a stranger ride along, the trip suddenly takes a miraculous turn toward the eye-opening truth about death.

While sitting at the counter of his favorite diner, Otis gulped the last of his orange juice to wash down the scratchy turkey bacon stuck in his throat.

Lexi reached for his empty plate. “I don’t know how you can eat that stuff when real bacon is so good.”

“I don’t want my cholesterol going through the roof, thank you very much.”

She shrugged. “We’ve all got to die sometime.”

But Otis cringed, not wanting to think about death hunting him down and tackling him into a dark grave. The thought terrified him.

He handed Lexi his debit card. She’d started waitressing here the summer Otis lost his grandparents. They’d been the ones to raise him, and their deaths left an engulfing void and a fear he couldn’t shake. Lexi once told him she thought he became a long-haul truck driver to outrun the pain, and sooner or later, he’d need to slow down and let it catch up so he could heal.

While waiting for her to return with his card, Otis inspected the stream of newcomers visiting the diner. Holidays always brought more traffic, and Good Friday was no exception as families traveled hundreds of miles to spend Easter together. Meanwhile, Otis’ lonely, long-distance trip involved dropping off a load of steel in Chicago.

Lexi returned with his debit card, biting her bottom lip.

“Uh oh. What?” Otis asked.

“I sort of volunteered you for a delivery.”

“You did what?”

“My pastor’s car broke down, and he needs to get to a church in Chicago for the Easter service. He’s filling in for a close friend who’s sick. I told him you were going there and could take him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t want your pastor Bible-thumping me for the next hundred and eighty miles!”

“Come on, Otis. He’s not like that. He’s just a normal guy wearing jeans and a ball cap. Something you’d know if you ever came to church with me.” She waited. “Please. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

 Otis sighed. “Fine. He can come.”

Lexi squeezed his hand. “You’re the best! I’ll let Pastor Mike know. I think he stepped outside to take a call.”

“Just tell him I’ll meet him outside.” Otis stood and headed for the restroom.

Moments later, Otis began searching the parking lot for this pastor needing a ride. When he spotted a guy wearing a ball cap and tennis shoes, Otis forced a smile as the man approached him.

“I appreciate you letting me ride along, Otis,” he said.

“No problem.” But Otis hesitated because this was a problem. This wasn’t going to be a friendly ride but literally a guilt trip. Otis could only hope the pastor was tired and would sleep most of the way. “Well, let’s get moving.”

They climbed into the cab, buckled up, and started down the road in silence. Otis wondered if Lexi had warned the pastor not to preach at him. If she had, he knew it was up to him to break the ice to make the ride less awkward.

Otis cleared his throat. “So, Lexi mentioned you need to get to Chicago. Something about a sick friend?”

The man gazed out the passenger window. “He’s going to die soon, and I need to take him home.”

It was not the answer Otis expected, especially the part about taking a dead person home. His stomach turned as he imagined the cemetery with his grandparents’ headstone.

“Otis, are you okay? You’re very pale.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just don’t like talking about death. It—”

“Scares you?”

Otis gripped the steering wheel tighter as his knuckles turned white. He didn’t want this pastor to start preaching about the bright light of heaven when he couldn’t see through the dark shroud of death.

“Jesus came to free you from that, too, Otis.”

Otis turned. “What are you talking about? I’m saved. My grandparents made sure of it. I went to church all the time when I was a kid. Gave my life to Jesus Christ when I was nine and became a born-again believer.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?”

Otis glared at his curious passenger. “Excuse me?”

“If you’re saved, why are you so afraid of death? It’s as if you don’t believe your Savior is alive.”

“I know all about Easter and the empty tomb.”

“Do you? Do you know that after Jesus rose from the dead, he met two men on a road who were discouraged because they were blind to the truth—the Truth that walked beside them?”

“The road to Emmaus. Yes. I know that story.”

The man smiled. “Yes, you do. You know many stories, but you need to believe them.” A silence lingered. Finally, he asked, “Would you mind pulling into the next rest stop?”

Normally, Otis would have minded, but not this time. He took the exit, parked, and was first to hop down from the cab. He wanted to confront this pastor face to face and tell him it wasn’t any of his business. He’d seen the ugly hand of death steal both of his grandparents. What more was there to know?

But after Otis took a deep breath and rounded the vehicle to face the pastor, he realized the man wasn’t there. Otis examined the cab and walked the length of the flatbed semi-truck, even bending to look underneath. The man was gone.

The shrill call of his cell phone startled him.

“Otis!” Lexi yelled. “Where are you? Pastor Mike has been waiting for you. He needs to get to Chicago as soon as possible. His friend is in bad shape. They don’t think he’s going to make it through the night.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“His friend, Otis. The one he’s filling in for. He’s dying.”

Otis’ mind reeled. If Pastor Mike was there with Lexi, who was the guy that had been riding with him?

Suddenly, Otis remembered his grandma wearing a wool cardigan, sitting by the wood stove, and telling the story of angels carrying a beggar named Lazarus to Abraham’s side. “Our home is in heaven with the Lord,” she’d said. “Our feet won’t even touch the end of the narrow road home because the Lord’s angels will carry us! Isn’t that exciting, Otis?”

Otis’ eyes widened. He’d been in the presence of an angel, who was on his way to carry a believing soul home to be with the Lord. An angel that had reminded him that his Savior Jesus Christ conquered death and left the grave behind, which meant death was nothing more than a bully with a black eye trying to talk big while keeping Otis chained in fear and cowering in the dark. 

“Otis? Are you still there?”

“Sorry. I’m here, Lexi. Tell Pastor Mike I’m on my way back.”

Quickly, Otis pulled himself into the cab, knowing he was on his way back—back to believing that his grandparents weren’t buried in darkness but rejoicing with Jesus Christ, his Savior, who’d sent an angel to remind him of the victorious road home while freeing him from the shackles of fear.

“Since the children have flesh and blood, he [Jesus] too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death – that is, the devil – and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.” -Hebrews 2:14-15 NIV.

I’m honored to share that “The Road Home” appeared in the April 2025 issue of The Outreacher. Thank you to one amazing editor, Julie Schultz, for allowing me to be a part of such a wonderful ministry!

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