I've walked across
I've been in a coal mine in
I've seen Da Vinci's Mona Lisa and The Last Supper, Michaelangelo's David and his Sistine Chapel ceiling. I've seen Rembrandt's Nightwatch, Picasso's
I've walked the streets of
I've been amazed and amused, inspired and enthralled. I've been lucky. And I've been blessed.
But of all the places I've been to, of all the things I've seen and done around the world, nothing reached my heart and soul the way one day in
I got discouraged after awhile, because none of those places really gave me a sense of Jesus in the same way I've sensed, say Emily Dickinson in her home in
He told us that he imagined we had probably been to a lot of places in the last few days where Jesus had walked and talked. Places like the hillside where Jesus had delivered the Sermon on the Mount and where he had multiplied the loaves and fishes. We had. Places like the field where the angels sang to the shepherds and the
He said we were probably like a lot of other Christians coming there to find something of Jesus. And, in varying amounts we all were. He said he had done that too, and that he had been frustrated because he hadn't found what he was expecting. It wasn't until he had stood in front of that Garden Tomb a few times that he realized a most wonderful thing—a thing which made all the difference in the world to him. And he hoped it would to us, too.
“Do you remember what the angel told the disciples when they came early to the tomb?” he asked. “He is not here. He is risen and is walking among us again—even now.”
That man was so right! We don't have to go 1/2 way around the world to find some piece of Jesus. We don't have to stand in the grotto marking His birthplace to feel His presence in our lives. He is not there in the hill of Judea. He is not there in
I’ve been lucky. I've walked where Jesus walked in