Mud on My Shoes

This is the a LIFE magazine photo of a Chinese man wearing straw sandals. My grandfather and his father must have won this kind of straw sandals. In the Foochow Association Museum in Sibu one can see an exhibit of one such straw sandals.

A photo of a bamboo basket and straw sandals. These straw sandals were worn by the Foochow pioneers when they came to Sibu. It was many many years later that the Foochow men and women learned to wear leather shoes when rubber prices shot up and there was plenty of money for every one. I still remember my grandmother used to tell us that when many of the men started wearing leather shoes they made noises which went like this "bok bok bok" because they could not walk properly with the heavier shoes. They also suffered from blisters for the first time in their life!!

Jesus sandals modelled in Jerusalem.

I go walking quite a lot and so muddy shoes really do not both me or my friends.

One Sunday I went to Church with mud on my sandals after a short term mission trip. I had not checked if those comfortable sandals were clean or not. Furthermore they were a little aged but they were comfortable throughout my journey.

The church was full. Ladies were well dressed and the guys were wearing their Sunday best. A few were even wearing their suits!

When it was time to receive communion I went with the others and knelt down in front of the altar. Most of the ladies were wearing glistening high heels and most of the guys were wearing polished leather shoes. Because they were town people and were driving cars naturally they had clean shoes. But unknown to me my sandals had marks of mud. I did not have time to wash the sandals before the service. Actually they were not too muddy in my opinion.

Later a lady whispered "There's mud on your sandals."

I was surprised someone noticed. But I am sure many saw that my sandals were muddy and a little tattered and they did not give a second look. But as an afterthought I could also have won a pair of Japanese slippers and no one would really bother about what shoes we were all wearing in front of God!

For many days I reflected on mud on my shoes. As I meditated I realised that it really does not matter. I remember the man with the tattered coat who went to have a feast in the story of long ago and he was not allowed into the room.

But the feast of God is open to all - mud on the shoes or not!