10 Days Without Shoes
The bottom of my feet are cracked and sore as I try to place each step carefully. My eyes search for a softer place to step but my decision comes down to the lesser of 3 evils — “the rough”, loaded with cacti, razor grass, and these little prickly bushes that leave barbs in my feet. The gravel path, full of sharp stones and broken asphalt. Or the sand, which feels hotter than an non-air conditioned car in South Florida during July.
A good golfer would not face this dilemma, as their perfect strokes would allow them to walk down the perfectly manicured, soft grass of the fairways. Unfortunately, my golf score looks more like the final score of an NBA game, which means this shot into the deep rough won’t be my last.
As I approach the ball which is hidden behind some long saw grass, one of my friends points out a 4-foot-long snake much too close for comfort. Grabbing a long pole, I prod at him until he slithers away into a hole. Looking around I notice there are a lot of holes. Being in rattle-snake country, the thought of more snakes makes me nervous. I line up the shot and with a perfectly smooth stroke, knock the ball over the green and into the rough on the other side. This could be a very long day!
4-miles of meticulous walking later, we come to the end of the golf course, and the end of a long day under the scorching hot sun. None of us Americans are used to walking this much especially with bare feet, so getting the chance to sit down is both needed and refreshing.
My feet hurt, I mean really hurt. Upon a quick glance, they are black, dusty, and dirty. The longer I sit, the more I can feel the broken skin, bruised soles, and little pointy things that are lodged deep in my arch. I look forward to soaking them in some water.
Cleaning my feet takes some serious scrubbing as I try to rub out the black dirt stuck in the cracks of my skin. Brown water is running down the bottom of the shower and into the drain. I think about Jesus washing his disciples feet, and I finally begin to understand that story a little better.
No wonder this job was saved for the lowest servants — would you want to wash these feet? WARNING: This photo could be disturbing to some readers
I can also understand why Peter wasn’t keen on Jesus getting a hold of his feet. Walking around without shoes on for the past several days has shown me how self-conscious you can get about nasty, dirty feet. I wouldn’t want Jesus getting near my feet either.
At the same time, I’m finally beginning to understand what Jesus was illustrating when he said something to the extent of, “unless I wash you, you have no part in me.” In other words, “you are a lot dirtier than just your nasty feet, and unless I really clean you — you don’t belong to me.”
Challenge of the Day: If you have taken the challenges with me, you understand how dirty your feet can get. In Jesus’ time, people walked every where in sandals, and their feet got really dirty just like ours. Check out John 13, and comment below on what this story means to you now that you have had really dirty feet.
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