I remember going to Erwin McManus’ church, Mosaic, at the Mayan Night Club in LA one Sunday evening. As we crossed South Hill St., I saw a man in my periphery, presumably homeless. He had one leg amputated and was peddling along in his wheelchair with his other leg, barefoot.
The sermon that night was “What if everyone sacrificed?” Erwin invited everyone that felt led, to take off their shoes and lay them up on the stage. Their ministry, ServeLA, would then distribute the shoes to the homeless in the community.
At the time, I was wearing my favorite (and recently acquired) $120 Salomon all-purpose shoes. They were ridiculously comfortable, gore-tex so I never got wet, and were super light weight: aka….the perfect shoe. My friends next to me had just bought $40 Rainbow sandals that day and easily walked up and laid down their shoes. I sat there in my seat praying that no one would look at me, because if they did, I thought I would spontaneously combust from feeling guilty for being selfish. I knew I was, but I was ok with that. “You don’t understand, these are really expensive…I would gladly give up several pairs of other shoes, but not these. I just got them…they’re my favorite…what will I wear out of here?” All these selfish thoughts were running through my head.
Then, Jeff Lennox turned to me and put his hand on my shoulder, and with a heart wrenching, loving, almost whisper said, “Hey buddy, those are amazing shoes. Think of how blessed someone will be to have them. You don’t need them. You don’t own them. They own you. It’s time to let go.”
The second he said this, God ripped my heart open….the image of that man outside peddling across the street was burning through my heart and mind. I felt so unworthy to say that I follow Christ. I wanted to die. I didn’t want to exist. I felt so disgusted at how selfish I was. To say I was humbled is an understatement.
Tears started streaming down my face and without question, I walked up and gave them away. Never thought twice about it.
I cried even more back at my seat, ashamed at how tightly I was gripping to some stupid physical object, especially when someone was in greater need of what I had. And more scared at how unwilling I was to sacrifice for Him. Erwin started the invitation to give up our shoes by saying, “I’ll bet you you have more shoes than you have feet…but there are people out there who have more feet than they have shoes.”
The giving of shoes was more than just meeting a tangible need. It was a demonstration and statement. Those shoes were a representation of all the things I was holding onto in this world. By putting my beloved shoes up there, I was saying, “God, you can have all of me.”
This night changed my life. People overuse that phrase, but this is not an exaggeration. A few days later, I applied to work for an urban ministry (Center for Student Missions) in San Francisco. I spent that summer showing kids the beauty of the streets and the love and heart God has for the homeless and disenfranchised. I met some of my best friends there. And that summer gave me an even greater desire to work with those on the streets.
To my dear brother wearing my shoes today, I hope they have blessed your life in some small way and I look forward to the day we meet.
