You open it faithfully enough — a chapter before the day starts, a psalm before the light goes out — and you close it again feeling much the same as when you began. If that's familiar, you're in good company. We believe this Book. We want it to move us. But too often it reads like a stranger's voice: old, dignified, a little remote.

Two men walked seven miles out of Jerusalem on the first Easter afternoon carrying the three saddest words in all of Scripture — we had hoped. A stranger fell into step beside them and opened the Scriptures, and something caught fire in them long before they knew who He was. By nightfall they were running the whole road back in the dark.

That is the claim this book rests on: what the risen Christ did for two grieving travelers through the same pages, He still means to do for anyone who will walk a while and listen.

In six warm, unhurried chapters, Burning Hearts follows those two men one part at a time — their hearts, their ears, their eyes, their hands, their feet, their lips — and traces the journey the Word makes through any life that lets it in.

From a buried hope to a story told. From a whisper of grief to a shout of joy.