I often have this fear that I am on the road to Emmaus.
And I don’t recognize Jesus for who He is.
Because I am running right past Him.
He wants to walk with me, and I am going at a dead run, mourning Him all the way, but too anxious to get there and share the news that He’s gone when He’s already back – alive and well and willing to comfort, strengthen and counsel.
I need to slow down.
I need to look under the shade of each hooded stranger to see if His face is there.
I need to dine with Him each week, with my heart burning within me.
I need a walking Companion.