The Shoe Salesman

With spring approaching, I will inevitably need new shoes.
New sneakers for walking; new dress shoes, just because.
Only a woman understands a “just because” pair of shoes.
Not extravagant, just something to make an old outfit look more interesting.

Shoe shopping now resembles entering a warehouse.
Rows and rows of shoes in boxes that coincide with the sample displayed above.
Often you find just the right shoe only to discover they don’t have your size.
We can get it from another store, they promise.

There is something about going to the store and leaving with your new shoes in a bag.
Sending them to your house just isn’t the same thing.
It is all about the find, the conquest, and the sale.
Shoe shopping is not like it used to be.

I always wondered if people working in shoe departments really liked their job.
Constantly going to the back room to look for a particular size must be tiring.
Bringing back the requested shoe only to find the woman changed her mind.
Bringing back the requested shoe wondering, What is this customer thinking?

Shoe shopping when I was a little girl was an experience.
I loved the seat that the salesman sat on, a small bench with an angled foot rest.
He would tell me to put my foot in a special metal measuring device.
I put my heel against the curved section and he would slide a bar to the top of my toe.

I never understood how that measuring device worked, but it always did.
The salesman would turn the device upside down and I would repeat with the other foot.
Why do you do that? Why do you measure both of my feet? I asked him one day.
He smiled and answered my little girl question…because your feet are different sizes.

I must have gotten a look of fear on my face as I looked down at my feet.
Everyone’s foot is a little different from the other one.
That had to do for now.
He would go back to the storeroom and bring the shoes my mother selected.

He would sit on the little bench and untie my shoes.
He would gently slip them off and get the new shoe out of the box.
With care, he would place the new shoe on my foot and tie it tightly.
I felt like Cinderella being fitted with her glass slipper.

I watched other children get their shoes, usually around back to school time.
A little boy would use the small angled bench as a slide; a playground in a shoe store.
I would try to measure my own foot and slide the bar against my sock.
That is not a toy, my mother would say and I would slide the device under the seat.

Those were the days of department stores.
Miracle on 34th Street stores with multiple floors reached by elevator or escalator.
One stop shopping that even had a restaurant on the top floor.
Salespeople that wrapped your purchase and folded your receipt with care.

I always wondered if selling shoes was enjoyable for the salesman.
As I got older, I was embarrassed that someone else would put my shoes on for me.
I welcomed the do-it-yourself shoe shopping experience.
I didn’t want to be served in this way.

The evening meal was being served, and the devil had already prompted Judas Iscariot, son of Simon, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under His power, and that He had come from God; so He got up from the meal, took off His outer clothing, and wrapped towel around His waist. After that He poured water into a basin and began to wash His disciples feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around Him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to Him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” “No,” said Peter, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with Me.” “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well.” Jesus answered, “A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” For He knew who was going to betray Him, and that is why He said not every one was clean. (John 13:2-11)

If there was a small angled bench, Jesus would have been sitting on it.
Jesus had the dirty feet of His disciples in His hands.
Jesus the Savior Servant washed feet.
Unlike the shoe salesman, Jesus didn’t mind; Jesus was delighted to serve in this way.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:2,3)

Picture Jesus with the dirty feet in His Hand.
Picture Him washing them in the basin of water and drying them with a towel.
Picture Him even washing the feet of the one who would betray Him later that night.
Jesus…who for the joy set before Him endured the cross.

Joy in washing feet.
Joy in taking the dirtiest thing and making it clean.
Joy in serving even those that deny Him, betray Him, and disobey Him.

Jesus STILL washes feet.
Jesus washes us with the water of His Word.
If we are believers in Jesus, trusting in Him alone for our salvation, we have had a bath.
What we need now is daily washing of our feet when we confess our sins to Him.

Jesus takes our dirty sin and washes it clean.
The dirt of our feet is on His Hands.

Do you see Him with your feet in His Hands?
Praise Him as He gently cups that dirty foot and washes it clean.