Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem; and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were bouncing things back and forth, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.
"What are you talking about with each other while you're walking along here?" he asked them.
They stood still, looking sad.
"Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who doesn't know the things that have happened there these days?" Cleopas asked him.
"What things?" he asked him.
Ironic isn't it that the contemporary church with its larger-than-life preachers, concert-venue buildings, and media platforms is so extravagant while the Lord himself is so understated?
Last night we went to a neighborhood Bible study. Nothing fancy. Some blankets. Borrowed chairs. Grilled chicken, a few patio lights, and a small ragamuffin band of believers. But more than a few had come a long way to gather together in the name of the Lord.
One young man, a kid really, had driven all the way from Oklahoma just for the chance to play his guitar and lead us in a few songs in worship. The quiet exuberance of his heart turned that little backyard into a plot of holy ground.