Last Sunday, I gave Jesus a ride.  He was a middle-aged woman with a yellow backpack and a cane walking north on Highway 63. I almost missed him.   After finishing the second service at church, I was running late for a meeting in Ashland, a little town 15 minutes away.  Speeding up the highway, I was on him before I knew it.  I quickly recognized the woman walking with her thumb outstretched as the woman who had visited our church earlier in the day looking for help. She was passing through mid-Missouri on her way from Portland, Oregon, to…