Ashlie Miller

By Ashlie Miller

While mid-December through March is the peak season for tourists in Breckenridge, CO, due to winter sports, my husband and I are not your average tourists there. Give me mild temps in June with fewer people anywhere, and I’ll likely go. The breathtaking landscapes can keep one’s head turning around every bend – craggy cliffs of a mountain on one side, evergreen peaks on the next, and white-capped points straight ahead. Those are just sights from the main highways. Walking along trails or riding an e-bike provides more opportunities to pause and take in the grandeur of creation. 

While we were away on a pastors’ and wives’ retreat, I had one morning to myself to venture out while my pastor (my husband) was writing the week’s sermon. Selecting a trail was an overwhelming decision, so I opted for a bit of familiarity, choosing a walking trail well below the paved bike trail we had explored the day before. I thought I might find a nook and read my book. I wasn’t focused on where I would end up, so I just started walking. As I became engrossed in the saturation of color and texture on my walk, I just kept walking — and walking. No destination in mind at this point. I saw evidence of wildlife that I had just missed. Dandelions carpeted much of the way, leaving a golden pathway. I came to a part of the path carved out with stones as if beckoning me somewhere – is this leading me to The Shire? Surely, I wouldn’t be lucky enough. But the puffy white clouds against the perfect blue sky (I’m sure that was at least a Carolina blue) and the earthy tones of a bubbling brook and rocky path as the deciduous trees were beginning to wake up were all enough to nourish my soul that day. I did not need to know where the path would end.

I was grateful that my mind was uncluttered from the noise of worries and anxieties. For far too often, I have traveled down paths equally as lovely but no competition for the smog of fret that clouded my view. The walk that day, however, was filled with a beautiful, quiet conversation with my spirit. 

Earlier that morning, my friend Jill shared a similar feeling about our e-bike ride from one town to another. She noted a phrase that has been said before: “The journey is not more beautiful than the destination.” But we don’t always feel that way, do we? 

At an earlier time in my life, I would have argued that the destination was the best part. After all, I would have the opposite reaction to homesickness. I am not certain it was wanderlust, but surely it was close. 

But what makes a journey so beautiful? Is it the scenery? Maybe. Could it be the milder temps (at least in this case)? Quite possibly. I think it is the peace one carries. Peace makes it easier to see past the smog. And while we are at it, you do know that Peace is a Person? [His name is Jesus.] When you journey with the Peace Speaker, even a rough journey is graced with its own beauty. He speaks even in silent conversations. His presence alone is enough. 

I was blessed to have selected an easy, gorgeous trail to trek that day, but there is no guarantee that my or your next path will be so glorious. Will you be able to walk in and with Peace?

Ashlie Miller meanders on trails, greenways, sandy shores, and even just her own neighborhood in Concord. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Another Friday evening, and I think my Aunt Sandi is scouring the online and printed ads for yard sales in the area. She often hopes for a sale that will keep both her and her chauffeur-husband interested – they both are looking for different things. 

For many, hosting a yard sale is a daunting task because it means another d-word – decluttering! I had been wanting to purge our attic and some other storage areas for months, but with homeschooling as my priority, I had to put a yard sale on the back burner. Yet, I would often toss random things into piles, bins, or corners of the garage. Finally, the day came (actually, because I was desperate to purge, two days came!). I was one of the few who decided to try a Friday pre-sale. 

Unless having yard sales is regular supplemental income, many of us do not look forward to nor anticipate much from them. Other than looking for treasures myself at someone else’s yard sale, I don’t usually expect to unveil beauty in hosting one. But what special treasures we did uncover! We met new neighbors – or rather, new to us. In the hustle and bustle of life, it is common to go months or even years without meeting neighbors. We were able to bless others by charging pennies for items. However, some friends and loved ones generously supported our efforts by giving more than we cared to charge them: “It’s to help the kids because I know most of this will go to them.”

There were special finds that some were looking for specifically. What a joy to help them on their quest – shoes still in excellent condition but too quickly outgrown by our household; lovely outfits for the graduation of a loved one the next day; a cedar hope chest for a high schooler.

The showstopper ended up being a banged-up craft table covered in old, rusty tools. I priced them low because they just needed to go. Every man (and some children and women) slowed their pace as they approached that table. One gentleman said he liked the smell of those corroded tools because they reminded him of his grandpa and the home and tools he had to leave behind in pursuit of a better life. 

There were other memorable moments – a lady came looking for nothing in particular until she saw our table of free Bibles. She asked, “How much? My husband just came to Christ, and we were talking yesterday about trying to find him a Bible he could read and understand.” “Free,” my husband and I replied. She walked away with two versions her husband could read. She thought she came looking for someone else’s old treasures, but she walked away with something far more priceless. 

Even though we were decluttering the home in hopes of making a little money to redo the children’s rooms, bargaining with me was still pretty easy. My daughter was watching, unbeknownst to me, as I negotiated with a lady over some children’s clothes, finally giving her more than she could reasonably pay for so she could bless her grandchildren. “Momma, I saw what you did there. That was really nice,” my daughter observed. “Well, I think that was the true goal of all this, after all, wasn’t it?” I replied. 

At the end of those two hot days in May, I was blessed more than I could have blessed anyone else. My body was tired, and we certainly didn’t make nearly enough to redecorate the room of anyone’s dreams, but I walked away refreshed and rich in spirit. 

But make no mistake, I will not be hosting another yard sale anytime soon – it’s the hot, humid South, after all!

By Ashlie Miller

Weddings, graduations, early summer trips – so many things happen this time of year that Flag Day is often an afterthought. I’m speaking to myself here as much as anyone else. Sports fanaticism or celebration of other things has outpaced patriotism for many. Waving a flag outside one’s home may not be as common on your street as it was in a bygone era, or perhaps it is more common in your town but less so in the next town. 

The presence of any flag can still evoke strong emotions and opinions, both among those who hoist them and those who view them. The unfurled symbol can be pretty controversial. While many do not hesitate to plaster various stickers on a car to express their unsolicited opinions to the world, waving a flag from a home can be quite another matter. It serves as an identifier for a unified household, although many homes are divided. (Go by any house with alumni of rival colleges – you’ll see their “house divided” yard signs or banners!) 

Raising a flag over a residence communicates many things. In the days and lands of monarchs, the flag billowing above the castle would announce who was present or that royalty was in attendance. It could symbolize the castle’s owner or whether it is under the control of another country or government. When a castle is used as a military base, that branch of service may hoist its flag while in use. 

If you were to fly a flag declaring who or what is in residence, what would it look like? What would be the symbol?

There is an old praise song that many children used to sing: “Joy is the flag flown high from the castle of my heart showing the King is in residence there. Let it fly in the sky; let the whole world know that the King is in residence there.” Psalm 20:5 comes to mind as God’s people shout for joy over His victory, raising high their banner. Joy – what a great flag to unfurl!

Do others see joy exuding from me?

The “she” in Song of Solomon 2 speaks of the banner of love her lover has for her. That recalls to mind another song I learned as a child – “His Banner Over Me Is Love” – “He brought me to his banqueting table, His banner over me is love.” 

Can others tell that I know I am loved by the Lord, and do I share that they are, too?

Maybe the flag that flutters sends out a more distressing cry – someone or something else is in charge or has invaded. Perhaps a white flag signals surrender because we have been in over our heads for far too long. How did we let something else take control of our hearts? Did we surrender to it? These flags we fly are a disgrace to us personally or to our testimony of professing to believe in Christ as our all-powerful Savior. 

In a quick search for Flag Day events, I did not find many. Perhaps they were a more common event at another time. I did find opportunities to retire old, worn-out flags so that they would not be a disgrace to our country. For some of us, some flags have been flapping for too long. It is time to retire the banner and hoist another flag, indicating a new ruler. Happy Flag Day!

By Ashlie Miller

I read a rumor several weeks ago, when school was still in session, that some stores – which will remain nameless – were already displaying back-to-school items. In exasperation, more than one mother cried foul, “Can we just wait a few weeks until the kids are at least out of school before having to think about next school year?!”

It is an illustration of how hurried our lives are. Always rushing to, planning for, or worrying about the next thing, we feel pushed through our present moment and miss the opportunity to marinate in it and enjoy it. Even if we did not have the distractions of our electronic devices sucking our ability to be present, today’s summers are already jam-packed with busyness. 

In mom groups online, the number one question you will read is, “Help a momma out! Please comment with all the activities, VBS, and camps that we can plug into this summer!” New toys, supplemental curriculum, and a planner to fill every waking hour with activities in hopes that those become lasting memories all tempt us. The intention is likely good – to make the most of the time off together – but could we be robbing ourselves and our families of something else?

Sometimes, we need a reminder of wonder always happening around us. My younger children, in particular, enjoy wondering as we wander. Spring and summer provide many opportunities to experience that. One day in particular, my children and I discovered a toad under the strawberry bush from which we were picking that morning; then, a bee lit on a flower right there to gather its precious nectar. Listening to nature’s ongoing symphony around us, we identified a mockingbird and a red-tailed hawk by their distinctive songs and screeches. 

Later that evening, on a walk after supper, my youngest spied another hawk on a fence post, perhaps eyeing his next catch. As my husband and I sat on our front porch, our eyes were dazzled by the relaxing dance of the wind as it blew through the leaves of the trees towering above our neighbors’ roofs, filling the air with the fragrance of daylilies and gardenias.

But most wonderful throughout the day was watching my little image-bearers displaying the creativity and playfulness of their heavenly Father. They made books from printer paper or worked on larger stories on the computer. Some played out stories in their rooms with their favorite stuffed animals or built little worlds with blocks. In the cooler evening, some played pickleball, frisbee, and sword fighting in the cul-de-sac while others cozied up to read on the porch. No agenda. There was plenty of time to be bored, which meant plenty of time to explore their imaginations. My thoughtful daughter even thanked me later for letting her have time to be creative and even bored.

What a time to be delighted by the majesty of a glorious Creator who paints in tiny, miraculous, everyday things like toads and bumblebees. What a magnificent gift of a season to slow down, breathe, and not have the next week thoroughly planned. Oh, we will still participate in camps, VBS, and other activities, but the pursuit of boredom and wandering wonder is what I hope will drive us. We mean well. We want to redeem the summer, the time we miss together throughout the rest of the year. But is busyness the only answer? So, before we all buy our back-to-school items and fill our summer agendas, let’s take a moment to take a deep breath and reconsider soaking in the new season. 

By Ashlie Miller

“Mom, do people have seasons like plants do?” I wasn’t expecting that question from my daughter as we picked strawberries at Cody Farms in Richfield a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t surprised that she asked. I had captured a photo of several things happening on a single strawberry plant stem – flowers, a flower wilting, one with a small, thick, hard green bud, some with slightly larger, hard green buds that would mature in weeks to the brightest red-ripened offerings. 

After selecting our harvest and moving on to choosing flowers to pick and arrange in a bouquet, I pointed to the blossoms on flowers, encouraging my daughter to find those waiting to bloom so we could anticipate their showiness in a few days at home. As we watched a bee sitting upon one of the flowers, she asked the question. What a reflection that was going on in the mind of my very contemplative melancholy who loves being in nature with me. 

I explained that, yes, as humans, we also have stages and seasons of growth. Even in our growth, like the berry blossoms and flower buds, there are stages of newness. I thought more about that later in the week as I ate the bright red strawberries we picked.

It can be easy to become frustrated with those new in some area of life- the timid trainee at the job afraid of making mistakes and wanting to do things perfectly to please; the eager intern bursting with an energy that needs to be wrangled in, ready to make a difference yet quickly burns out; the one who comes in with a bit of knowledge thinking “I got this” when they don’t, in fact, “got this.” There is a naive beauty in all of this when we recognize potential and can help them patiently. 

That patience brings such a fruitful reward, whether in matters of life and learning in general or in walking alongside someone as they grow in their walk with Jesus. One of the joys of my life is mentoring and discipling young ladies. Sometimes, it’s a young lady who is anxious over the future both personally and as they watch the world struggle, wanting to make no mistakes to displease the Lord, distressed over the mistakes that those close to her make; she needs to know about God’s sovereignty and abundant grace and that He loves her for who and Whose she is, not for her successes. At other times, it is a young one with a wild, fire-filled energy and passion, but also often led by emotion. She needs to know the truth of God’s Word to lead her, not just emotions and feelings. She must remember that it is a marathon, not a sprint. At other times, there is an overly confident, self-reliant individual who seems to know the right words and answers but is over-analytical and often paralyzed from acting and moving; she needs to learn about faith and trust in God rather than knowing all the pieces and cultivating a sure-fire plan. I know these ladies well and have been in each of their shoes at different times of my growth as well.

Do you need a good reminder that when growth seems different from another berry on the bush, the process is still happening? The result can be a beautiful, fruitful person radiating with fragrance and even sweetness. While waiting patiently with those walking in newness, we can pray for them and cheer them on.

By Ashlie Miller

Memorial Day holds a special place in the hearts of many. Usually, that entails things less memorable, like eating hotdogs or going to the lake. But, I can recall when I first learned that the day was a day for decorating graves – originally called Decoration Day. 

My sister-in-law would make annual treks to her home state to visit and decorate family graves. I always wondered about that. Then, several years ago, my brother and his family, along with my own, decided to journey to our father’s grave in Thomasville, NC, on Memorial Day.

Having never visited his grave since his death many years ago, I was not prepared for what visiting Thomasville would be like on Memorial Day in 2018. Boy, we were in for the most wonderful surprise, arriving just before the town’s annual parade to honor heroes and their families.

I realize now that this is not an uncommon occurrence in many towns. In fact, you can attend a parade Monday in Salisbury. Most likely, it will not draw the crowds that the Independence Day parades and events will, but is it any less significant? It is amazing what a smaller event on Memorial Day will do to set your mind and heart ablaze in memory and gratitude. 

After our bodies and hearts were thoroughly nourished after a light lunch and a fantastic parade, we made the short drive over to the Holly Hill Memorial Park Cemetery, where Daddy is buried alongside other family members who were also in the service. It is a bittersweet memory. Daddy did not die on the battlefield, but like many veterans of Vietnam, cancer came calling for him just after his time of service and beginning a young family.

I think of soldiers during this time and their acts of service. For many, however, service was not an option but a task put upon them. It was a sacrifice in many ways; they may be uncomfortable being reminded of their “service.” 

That’s why, when I see a veteran, I try to look him in the eye and say, “Thank you for your sacrifice” instead of “Thank you for your service.” Sometimes, I see the eyes of my father’s generation look back with gratitude for perhaps being understood and truly loved.

Like many today, I did not grow up fully recognizing Memorial Day for what it was, and I would confuse it with Veterans Day. Thankfully, slowing down, taking note, and observing others opened my eyes before my children grew up so we could share such things together. 

I encourage you to slow down this extended weekend. Look through Granddaddy’s medals or Grandma’s old photo books. Find out what those medals mean and where those pictures were taken. Visit findagrave.com and look for where relatives are buried. Maybe make an impromptu visit to the town for a parade or to the grave to pay respect. It will change you, and perhaps it will change all of us. 

Ashlie Miller and her family live in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Pomp and Circumstance—It’s a tune many of us will be familiar with in the coming weeks. We have some young friends graduating from colleges and high schools; some even within the same family. My husband also has a graduation as he continues to further his education as a lifelong learner.

Although I graduated from UNCC quite some time ago, other ladies I know well have discussed how nice it would be to have taken college classes much later in life rather than fresh out of high school. Our brains were still developing. We understand so much more now and can think more abstractly, critically, and with wisdom.  But, the last time I checked, they don’t hand out diplomas or cords for maturity gained over the years, and only seldom does one receive a degree for life experiences. 

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were graduation celebrations for hitting new levels of maturity and experience in life? There are practical things like learning how to be responsible with a budget, maintaining a first apartment, having a better handle on time management, and home and car ownership responsibilities. As we grow in a family, there is maturity in self-sacrifice as a parent or simply preferring others over oneself. We learn how much one can do with so little sleep.

Then, there are more important things that some learn and master better than others—learning to avoid gossip (giving or receiving), not worrying what others think of you (people-pleasing), replacing FOMO (fear of missing out) with JOMO (joy of missing out), replacing comparisons with contentment, and becoming comfortable in your own skin. 

Though there may not be new certifications, distinctions, diplomas, and celebrations for these significant, life-altering milestones in the lives of Christians, there is something better – sanctification. The word is sometimes as hard to say as the process is to endure, but the rewards are sweet. How often can you look back at your life and say, “Wow, I’m further in that area than I was 6 months or a year ago!”? If our ultimate aim as Christians is transforming into the likeness of Christ (see 2 Corinthians 3:18), shouldn’t we be able to look back and see significant change at various stages of life? I’m not speaking of compromise or the all-too-popular deconstruction that has arisen in recent years. Rather, the results of life-long sanctification are so profound that they can even astound us. In Colossians 3:10, Paul speaks of a new self that is being renewed daily in this process that we gradually journey through. 

While God the Father graciously transforms us thanks to the sanctifying gift of Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection, the fruit of the Holy Spirit shines through our lives (love, joy, peace, etc.). We submit to the work of God in our lives as we allow Him to shake off the things that cling to us. It is a process. It can be painful at times but also beautiful and comforting. But, when we look back, we should see evidence of growing and graduating from one victory to the next. 

As you sit in the crowds this season to view the slow processionals accompanied by the familiar graduation march, take a moment to reflect on areas of life where you, too, have graduated. Glory to God, and hats off to you!

Ashlie Miller celebrates her husband’s recent Master of Arts in Theological Studies. You may send regards or comments to mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

It was not our first time observing birds; I wrote about watching birds a year ago this time. After all, it is the season of hatchlings making their way out of the nest. This time, however, it was a rescue mission. 

My observant son saw our dog, Bruno, in the backyard, making eyes at something. No barking, just eying down something. Usually, as is the case with many hound mixes, he attempts to feast on whatever it may be – a rodent, a bumblebee, a lizard, a snake, or a bird. When my son saw that all-too-familiar look in Bruno’s eyes, he made a mad dash to see what it was. Behold, a fledgling tufted titmouse – stunned, most likely from a fall from a nest, but further paralyzed by fear of the glaring eye of a large beast!

Heroically, my son rescued the bird from the potential jaws of death and relocated the little birdie to the neighbor’s enclosed yard. Upon further observation, my curious daughter could hear the distressed cries of the baby bird’s parents and sat watchfully outside the fenced-in area to see if the mommy bird would come to the rescue. Eventually, momma swooped down to offer sustenance to her stunned baby. There were periods when it seemed the baby was hopelessly abandoned, but those parental calls indicated that the baby was not forsaken. My sweet girl would encourage the baby, occasionally approaching and sweetly speaking to it.

Before the sun fully set, with gloved hands, she scooped up the fledgling and placed him in a more well-lit area of the yard. She watched as the baby bird found a cozy spot to rest. The next morning, she could hear small chirps from a nest nearby. We assume all is well with this little feathered friend. 

There is nothing like the care of a mother. The worries and seemingly nagging cries may annoy us in childhood or even up through adulthood, but when they are no longer heard, we miss them. The provisions and thoughtfulness that sustain us in our youth and delightfully surprise us later in life are but cherished memories when Mom is no longer here. How will we survive the rest of this life without her watchful eye and care?

Yet, somehow, we make it. Maybe we have someone who checks in on us when something is glaring us down. They may even mobilize us out of our paralyzing posture. There may be a friend sitting just outside our immediate situation who can see that we will be okay. They cheer us on, listen to God’s voice of truth and love, and maybe even relay those reassuring words to us. They may even help us get in a better position to feel protected and cared for. 

But even when that does not feel like the case, there is One loving caregiver who sees all and knows all. If God considers each sparrow that falls, He surely sees us—those made in His image—in our hurts and sadnesses. He rescues us from the jaws of death. He calls to us with words of comfort and care. He provides sustenance to carry on another day, and He even sends us the kindness of others to help us when we feel alone or orphaned.

Do you see someone who is alone or saddened this Mother’s Day? Look for ways to encourage and help. And if you are without a mother on this special day, thank those who have helped and cared for you.

Ashlie Miller was blessed to have a wonderful mother for almost 45 years whom she misses dearly. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

May the fourth is upon us, and chances are, even if you do not have a Star Wars nerd in your home, you will still hear someone exclaim, “May the fourth be with you!” I have several Star Wars nerds, so I am braced for it. 

The Force. Many have tried comparing it to the Holy Spirit. It is a tempting allegory. Even a casual observer will undoubtedly recognize themes of a great fall and redemption, allusions to a Chosen One or Messiah, and much more throughout the Star Wars franchise. But as with any metaphor, there is a lot of imperfection. Comparing The Force with the Holy Spirit is one of the most significant glaring imperfections. In fact, as I understand it, George Lucas did not really intend for his series to be a comparison to Christianity but rather an exploration of spirituality in general. However, for decades, Christians have tried to draw too many parallels, perhaps at the cost of correctness. Is it a reflection of how Christians have felt, or has it been a tool to wrongly direct unwary saints towards wrong impressions of who or what the Holy Spirit is?

The Holy Spirit is a person of the Trinity that many do not know what to do with. We hear “the power of the Holy Spirit” and envision believers summoning His power in their own efforts. But Jesus told His disciples that they would receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, not usher Him in. We see personable evidence such as He is an advocate (John 14:16), gives life (Romans 8:2), enables others to speak the gospel (Acts 2:4, 8:29), convicts us of sin, righteousness, and judgment (John 16:8-11), and comforts and abides with believers (John 14:16-18). 

As Christians, we see the Holy Spirit as a giver of both gifts and fruit. He gives us gifts to build up the church and the kingdom of God. Likewise, the fruit of the Spirit we cultivate in a relationship with the triune God helps us deal with all humankind. These are indications of a personal being, not a force to manipulate for the benefit of gaining information from people or navigating life’s good and evils for righteous or nefarious ends. The third person of the Trinity is someone to know, love, and receive from, not an impersonal energy to use or master. 

Achieving balance with an energy field sounds like an exhausting amount of personal effort. Living in the presence of the Holy Spirit as a guide does require submission, but He does the work in our lives to make us more like Christ. It is not a work of our own doing, thus making it life-giving. 

Also, the Holy Spirit points to Christ alone. He speaks what He hears from God. He never points to Himself. Those filled with the Holy Spirit work as empowered by Him in a selfless, modest way, not pointing to one’s own filling or power but to the glory of God alone. A more mystical idea of who or what the Holy Spirit is can result in a self-focused and self-glorifying effort, puffing up one’s own ego or sense of spirituality.

Who or what are you leaning into this May the fourth? May you know the person and presence of the Spirit of the Lord!

Ashlie Miller and her family live in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

My grandparents had a print of the painting Road to Emmaus by Robert Zünd hanging in their living room for as long as I can remember. You may be familiar with this painting, which I understand was a popular print in the 1960-70s. However, if you are not, it features two men walking alongside and listening to the risen Christ. The scene is idyllic – a forest with large trees, a small stone bridge over a brook, and the faint image of a village ahead in the distance. 

Religious art used to frighten me as a child – “Can He (God) see me?!”. I would steal glances at this particular painting and wonder about it. When I finally was old enough to understand its significance, the print became more of a treasure to ponder than something to fear. 

The story behind the scene Zünd captures is so beautiful: a risen Savior walking with disciples – not those disciples (Peter, James, and John) or even the other eleven. Rather, they are disciples we may otherwise know nothing about (see Luke 24 for context). What a Savior – to reach the lesser known. Don’t you love that He took his time with them while they were on a walk? We know they were leaving Jerusalem and headed towards Emmaus. Likely, they were leaving after the Passover and all that ensued that Holy Week. They had tarried long enough to hear reports from women regarding Jesus’ body missing, angels confirming Jesus had risen, and men double-checking to make sure these women weren’t crazy (because women were not considered reliable sources for testimony). Yet, that must not have convinced these two wandering disciples. They needed a divine encounter to fully grasp the Word given to them.

Why was Jesus walking away from Jerusalem towards this town? He appeared to have a mission – to make what the previous week was all about abundantly clear. All the words of the prophets they had read from Moses and beyond – every Scripture points to Himself. The Word in the flesh (Jesus) was revealing the Word (Scriptures) to them. No wonder their “hearts burned within” them, as they later remark. 

Jesus does not stop there, though. They long for more, and He meets more intimately with them, breaking bread until they finally recognize Who He is. Then, just like that – He disappears! These disciples are so excited that they are ready to make the trek back to Jerusalem to be with the other disciples within the hour! Seven miles. Based on current data, the average person walking at an easy pace walks a mile in 20 minutes, give or take. These disciples had already made the journey once that day. But this news prompted them to get back to join their brethren quickly!

What a kind and loving Savior to take the time to go down the road and even a little further to make certain all His disciples truly understood – not just those disciples. 

Going for a walk often helps clear my head. Often, I hope God will meet me in my thoughts, songs, or Scripture I am listening to, or even encouraging talks with my husband. Walking with the Savior will not look like that painting by Zünd, but it will surely be just as intimate and clear. Have you had a moment like this where God opens your eyes to see Scripture with more clarity? Insider tip – this begins to happen only when the Holy Spirit dwells within you, removing spiritual blinders from eyes and hearts.