I got this in a Forward yesterday, and although I have read it about a thousand times by now, as I am sure we all have, it hit me different yesterday.
I think that I am currently really trying to maintain a role of ‘servant’ in my life… I am trying to squash this insanely disgusting pride of mine and live my life with humility and grace. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE! Well, without Jesus it is impossible. Thank you Jesus for refining me daily so that I may be a better servant to you.
So I share this and pose you this question… What kind of ‘servant’ are you?
Would you scrub the toilets in your church if there was a need? Would you donate time and money and a completely anonymous capacity? (That one is tough for me…) Would you rub your hubbys feet every night just to ease his burden? Would you get down on your childs level, admit you are wrong, and ask for forgiveness?
Blessings dear sisters in Christ-
I showered and shaved… With plenty of room on either side…
I adjusted my tie. I got there and sat
in a pew just in time. Bowing my head in prayer…
As I closed my eyes. I saw the shoe of the man next to me
Touching my own. I sighed.
I thought, ‘Why must our soles touch?’
It bothered me, his shoe touching mine…
But it didn’t bother him much.
I showered and shaved…
With plenty of room on either side…
A prayer began: ‘Our Father’
I thought, ‘This man with the shoes…has no pride!
They’re dusty, worn, and scratched.
Even worse, there are holes on the side!’
‘Thank You for blessings,’ the prayer went on.
The shoe man said a quiet ‘Amen.’
I tried to focus on the prayer
But my thoughts were on his shoes again.
Aren’t we supposed to look our best
When walking through that door?
‘Well, this certainly isn’t it,’ I thought,
Glancing toward the floor.
Then the prayer was ended
And the songs of praise began.
The shoe man was loud
Sounding proud as he sang.
His voice lifted the rafters
His hands were raised high.
The Lord could surely hear
The shoe man’s voice from the sky.
It was time for the offering
And what I threw in was steep.
I watched as the shoe man reached
into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out…
what the shoe man put in.
Then I heard a soft ‘clink’
as when silver hits tin.
The sermon really bored me to tears
and that’s no lie.
It was the same for the shoe man
For tears fell from his eyes.
At the end of the service
As is the custom here…
We must greet new visitors
And show them all good cheer.
I felt moved somehow
And wanted to meet the shoe man.
So after the closing prayer
I reached over and shook his hand.
He was old and his skin was dark
And his hair was truly a mess.
But I thanked him for coming
For being our guest.
He said, ‘My names’ Charlie
I’m glad to meet you, my friend.’
There were tears in his eyes
but he had a huge, wide grin.
‘Let me explain,’ he said
Wiping tears from his eyes.
‘I’ve been coming here for months
And you’re the first to say ‘Hi.” ‘
I know that my appearance
‘Is not like all the rest.
‘But I really do try
‘To always look my best.’
‘I always clean and polish my shoes
‘Before my very long walk.
‘But by the time I get here
‘They’re dirty and dusty, like chalk.’
My heart filled with pain
and I swallowed to hide my tears
As he continued to apologize
For daring to sit so near.
He said, ‘When I get here
‘I know I must look a sight.
‘But I thought if I could touch you
‘Then maybe our souls might unite.’
I was silent for a moment
Knowing whatever was said
Would pale in comparison
so I spoke from my heart and not my head.
‘Oh, you’ve touched me,’ I said
‘And taught me, in part;
‘That the best of any man
‘Is what is found in his heart.’
The rest, I thought,
This shoe man will never know.
Like just how thankful I really am…
That his dirty old shoe touched my soul .