Where I'll Walk

My soft old Rockport sandals are worn and falling apart but my feet are so familiar with them. Soon they will fall apart completely, but for these 3 days in Vancouver I will strap them on and know they are comfortable and will get me through the hours of walking the streets of this City. Then these feet will travel to Street Church where hotdogs and coffee are served and the Message and worship will filter out into the streets from 9 until midnight every night, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

Walking along the street, in the heat, smelling the urine, watching the living dead weave along the street with their minds in a fog that is so dense. Can they feel their feet touch the pavement? Do they know where they came from earlier today and where their feet will take them tonight?

Old and wore running shoes were on the feet of a Texan who sat in the middle of a park, surrounded by addicts and homeless. He came to bring Good News to this part of Vancouver. He has beautiful feet: “how beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

My shoes are soft and comfortable and have come with me through the streets of Italy, Eastern Canada, come along as I walked to cooking school, soaked up the salt water as I stepped into the sea to head out kayaking. I look at the feet of my fellow travelers on East Hastings. Some have no shoes at all and their cracked and dry skin is coated with the filth of this avenue. Feet with shoes too small, others too large, holes in the toes or the soles of shoes that have shuffled along in the rain, the snow and now the heat of summer. Feet that walk the streets and then head home to a tent in Oppenheimer Park.

Just over 2000 years ago soft leather sandals encased the feet of those who brought Good News across the desert sands. Or those who came to watch the Rabbi teach and work miracles. The feet of Hosana walked with purpose through cities, towns, and deserts and to wells in the middle of the day to keep Divine appointments. One night at a dinner party a prostitute came and washed those feet with her tears. Tears that were held deep inside from pain and abuse. Yet there in a place where she was not supposed to enter she washed those Holy feet with tears of absolute trust. At His feet she gave Him her most difficult but precious gift – trust.

Walking keeps you so aware of the earth beneath your feet, of the sites and sounds of life around you. Which is one reason I refuse to wear anything plugged into my ears when I walk – I want to “hear” life around me, to see it, smell it, feel it and taste it.

Desperate people, going nowhere in life live on these streets. Desperate people going nowhere also live in houses in high priced properties, looking as if everything is all-together. How I know this feeling. I look at the 13 young people I am traveling with, in various stages of responsibility with their lives. One tells the same story all the time and cannot see he lives the same way, just a different street address and different clothes as those on East Hastings. His feet must respond to the call from the Almighty for a course correction. The feet of this group of young people hit the pavement at different rates. Some shuffle, some tread lightly, others have purpose in their walk. Their feet will walk many miles in life but will they know that their footprints are important? My feet tread along at their pace so I can listen to them, watch them, learn from them, share with them this experience on the streets of Vancouver. Whose feet are they following right now? What heroes do they have?
Have they looked, really looked at the footprints on this street? What have they seen in these 3 days? Will it affect where they walk in the future?

On the last day my sandal falls apart and it is held together with a band-aid for this last day of prayer walking! How ironic that a bandage holds together these familiar shoes as I watch the feet of others whose shoes are falling apart. We have something in common - our souls need protection.

These soft familiar comfortable sandals have been retired. There are many stories attached to where I have walked in them. But they gave their last miles to walking beside youth searching for where and how they will walk through life. They kept me comfortable as I stood in line with the homeless waiting for a handout, and stood on a street corner begging for money – just to get a taste of what it is like in this world so far away from mine.

I have new shoes now and am breaking them in. Where will I walk from here? Maybe it isn’t the “where” but the “how” that is really the question I am asking Jesus to show me. My new sandals have great support in them. Funny how Jesus seems to be using my feet to get to my head and my heart.

Oh Lord I want shoes of peace that bring Good News. I want to have beautiful feet. Feet that will run well and with endurance in this race of life. Feet that will stand upon the Solid Rock when I see a storm coming, or am suddenly in the middle of one. Feet that can dance or walk softly, and will know when to stop and wait. Oh Lord Jesus thank You for the old sandals that did their job well. Thank You for new sandals and the places they will go so that the feet in them can become beautiful through obedience.