Christ's Shoes

Walking from the temple, A pair of shoes I spied. Gently I picked them up, Not wanting them to hide. I asked a man along the way, But not to him the shoes belonged. Another simply stared at me. “Go home,” a third one growled. Beginning to lose hope I was, But as I laid them down A boy ran up to me and said, “The Teacher’s shoes you found!” He said, “The Teacher, Jesus of Nazareth.” I did not know how he knew, But before I could ask He melted into the crowd, Of whom I knew so few. I continued on my journey home, Teacher’s shoes close at hand. I stopped there, I don’t know why. I looked to my left Then to my right There on a rock, sat a man preaching to a group. Jesus, of course! I don’t know how, but I knew. I went and sat in front of him To listen to him teach. He spoke of a prodigal son, And a boy who lost a sheep. When he was done preaching there, The crowd began to disperse. I approached him with the shoes. I asked him, “Are these yours?” He took them and looked over them And gave them back to me. “They are,” He said, “But now I pass them onto you. You must take them and on the people of the world Spread the dust from these shoes.” I did not understand, but still I took the sandals home. I was a young and ignorant boy then, But now I am a man. The shoes I carry are the shoes of God, The only part we understand. Still there is much he has not shown, Such as legs, and arms, and head. I was to spread his teaching, The dust, upon the world. But not everyone wanted to be sprinkled with His love. The ridiculed, banished, and even imprisoned me. Yet here I still walk from sea to shining sea. You have sandals also, You just have to look around. Up, down; left, right; add a bit of light Then you, You have found Christ’s shoes.