Awoken by a sharp shooting pain in my right foot early Sunday morning, I debated whether or not to attend Sunday morning service. I peered through my closet for shoes to wear: shoe after shoe that looked great on the outside, but only maximized my pain on the inside. I glanced at the floor to find one alternative: my one pair of sneakers.
I knew all of my friends would stare at me if I wore ugly looking sneakers into the sanctuary, but I could not fathom shoving my foot into a cute but useless heel. I put on my sneakers, once pearly white and now stained with the day to day wear of everyday life, hopped in my car and prepared for embarrassment.
When I entered the cream colored sanctuary, I saw every other woman dressed to the nines in their neatly pressed dresses, while I dove into the nearest inconspicuous chair and sat down. I leaned forward to get a look at the line of shoes in my row: pristinely polished shoe after shoe lined the floor. And then there was me, wearing those once bone white street shoes, now sprinkled a light chocolate brown. Wringing my hands and wiping my sweaty palm on the chair next to me, I opened them up in worship to my Savior.
Instead of trying to fit into uncomfortable shoes and making a favorable impression, I chose not to pretend to be anything more than what I was: hurting and in pain. I may have not been the most popular woman at my church that day, but I didn’t care. I merely came to a savior who knew my pain and loved me anyway.
Matthew 11: 28-29 says “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” I needed to come to Jesus just as I was, and pretend to be nothing less. He could handle my stained sneakers. Jesus only asks me to come to Him, and He lovingly gives me His yoke, one of comfort, peace and contentment. All I had to do was ask.
Ann Voskamp, author of One Thousand gifts says “That which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To him. To the God whom we endlessly crave.”
God delights when you come to him as you are. Are you willing to come to Him?