Dirty, dusty feet.
It’s not a pretty image, is it?
Just today I received a magazine with a 30% off sale on shoes. They are my favorite brand — secretly comfortable and outwardly gorgeous. I’ll speak at a conference this summer and my winter feet could already feel the freedom of those beautiful shoes.
Will I buy them? (Maybe Mother’s Day?) I don’t know, but I still think they’re gorgeous.
While I appreciate a beautiful shoe, I long for my faith to resemble dirty, dusty feet.
I’ve been asking Jesus to redefine my faith.
Lord, I don’t want my faith to be comfortable and pretty. Show me how to follow You. Take me deeper.
My dirty, dusty feet are waking me in the night and lead me to pray for a couple living in Turkey. Maybe it’s two in the morning here, but it’s 10 a.m. there and God knows what they need.
My comfy faith wants to roll over and sleep, pulling tight in the thick comforter, but dirty, dusty feet ask me to war for them, though I have no idea what they need.
Dirty, dusty feet peeks into my bank account and says, “It’s all His.” Richard and I have known what it’s like to worry about bills and budget and work as hard as you can. Yet dirty, dusty feet shows me that, whether we are in the lean or breathing room periods of our lives, it’s all His.
He reminds me of the joy of giving sacrificially, especially when it meshes with His heartbeat.
Dirty, dusty feet shows me where I’m nurturing a grudge and asks me to love extravagantly instead.
Dirty, dusty feet take us places that challenge our faith in a thousand different ways.
They remind us that God designed us and knows what we are capable of doing in His name.
Dirty dusty feet shows us the heart of our Savior. It allows us to hear His voice because we’re following closely.
It reminds us of what is important — the eternal perspective — and allows each of us to hold everything else lightly.
Maybe, like me, you really love a pretty shoe, but my prayer is that the world will begin to notice our dirty, dusty feet and take off their shoes and follow too.
Dear Jesus, remove our comfortable, pretty faith as we place bare, clean feet on the road you have carved out for each of us. Show us the deep, though we admit freely that we fear it sometimes. We trust that where You lead, You teach and comfort and love us. Thank you for the honor of walking with You, wherever it leads, whatever You ask. In Your beautiful, mighty name, amen.
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