Jesus and feet

     my feet are, in short, quite destroyed. they’ve been through a lot, these feet. 

     scabs, flea bites, blisters, a random bruise, a stubbed toe, and a thick covering of mosquito bites, all whilst sporting a chaco tan that which is actually coming along quite nicely. they’ve walked several miles, through thickets of unfamiliar vegetation, pioneered up slippery hills through questionably slimy mud, fallen down onto rocks, thorns, and flagstones. they’ve danced and raced across soft cement floors with other smaller feet and stepped in countless surprise holes. they’ve splashed in puddles, tripped up stairs, kicked volleyballs. theyve walked through piles of trash and been braced on many a truck bed. they’ve been bitten, scratched, and doused with gallons of bug spray hundreds and hundreds of times. 

     the other day i was sitting and looking at my feet (you know, like you do), after id finished washing them before dinner. we’d been shoveling dirt and my feet were so dirty and taking so long to clean that id hoisted myself up into the pila by the sink to sit and wash them. 

     id spent at least ten minutes on my shoes, and they sat over there in the sun, all sparkly and clean and happy. 

     my feet, however, would not wash off. 

     even after scrubbing and soaping and scraping, the dirt stayed. it seemed permanent. i knew my feet were probably clean enough because of all the soap, but i wanted them to look clean too. 

     then i did the thinking thing again and started thinking about people in biblical times’ feet.

     they were probably so dirty.

     and not even dirty in a sense that they just had dirt on them. there were probably all sorts of things going on with peoples’ bodies and their feet that they didn’t exactly have bug spray or benadryl or ibuprofen for. they walked everywhere, and not in chacos. they probably had some pretty good callouses. 

     Jesus then decided to present himself in my head whilst i was sitting there in the sink with my chin in my hands. funny how he does that. i’m almost never in a presentable state or normal sitting position. oh well. 

     he gave me a song. i like when he does that. even if i already know the song. it’s like he walks into my brain library and does a keyword search and then handpicks a song out of all the ones i have stored, and puts in in the little record player and lowers the needle for me. 

     this time, he just gave me the bridge (?) part. 

     “when you made your heart my home, 

you didn’t make me take my shoes off 

you didn’t care what i’d stepped in because when you say i’m clean, i’m clean” (Touch Your Robe, Gable Prince and Friends)

      humans are messy things. 

     we are so very messy. we step in our own dirt and then mess around in everybody else’s. we disgrace one another and sometimes we catch ourselves and sometimes we don’t. then when we do, we crash obnoxiously along the path in our muddy shoes, thumping loudly up the porch steps and blatantly inserting ourselves into Jesus’ house. we clomp past his clean kitchen and clean living room and clean bathroom and dump everything at his clean, princely, (probably perfectly calloused) feet.

     and he never complains.

     our shoes are so dirty, are feet are so muddy, that the dirt seems to cling to us even after we’ve sat in the sink outside for twenty minutes trying to wash them off with cucumber melon hand soap(tm). 

     but as soon as we come to Jesus, the dirt disappears. it barely leaves footprints on the hardwood. the mud evaporates and leaves us sparkling and spotless. 

     it was because of these thoughts that i was awkwardly late for dinner that day. 

     “come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” –isaiah? ?1:18? ?

       -:)