What Shoes Are You Wearing?

“Carrye?”

A woman in comfortable boho style pants called into the waiting room, and I packed up my writing supplies to follow my new physical therapist into her spacious treatment room.

She made small talk about what I was writing before launching into discussion about my right knee- the reason for my visit.

I’m not an athlete so this was my first ever need for physical therapy and I had no idea what to expect.  That morning I’d carefully planned my wardrobe, trying to anticipate what would best aid my appointment.  (What can I say…I’m an overthinker.)

I’d landed on some stretch leggings with pockets, and my bright blue sneakers all the way back from…well…the days when I used sneakers.

Both of my painstaking clothing choices turned out to be a bad idea.

Apparently when you hurt your knee, it’s really helpful to wear shorts so that the therapist can get a good view of that knee.  At least then your legging bottoms don’t act as a tourniquet, barely squeezing to just above your knee.  That was awkward.

But the shoe I’d worn intentionally in case she wanted me to do some physical activity that required more grip than a flip flop or cute wedge shoe.  No possible way I was wrong about my shoe choice.

Except I was.

She asked how old my shoes were and I said, “Really old…but not really used much.”

She then proceeded to twist and contort my shoe to reveal that it had absolutely no support.  “I’m glad you don’t wear these shoes,” she replied confidently.  “Next time, wear the shoes you normally wear so we can see how you walk in them and how they affect you.”

My normal shoes would have said a lot more about the state of my feet, my daily support, and even how to help my knee.  But I wore what I thought I was supposed to wear instead.

It made me think about my life.  (Don’t shoes remind everyone of deep life questions?)  I’m not always good at wearing my normal shoes in front of other people.  I’m always kind of anticipating what people expect of me, what they might deem appropriate, and I often change shoes accordingly.  It always seems like it will help me- but it never does.

And there’s perhaps no one I’ve done this with more than with God.

I’m so frequently trying to figure out how to be what I ought to be so that I can be close to Him…so that He’ll speak to me.  I’ve tried to wear the shoes of the “good Christian”, polished and ready with the “right” answer even when I wasn’t so sure it made sense.  I’ve tried to ask God for what I want while always leaving Him miles of compliance with follow up prayers like “unless that’s not your plan”.  I’ve assumed my growth would come from trying to anticipate God’s lessons before He could even teach me.  Basically, I’d have a human reaction to a person or situation and I’d know it wasn’t the “right” response.  So I’d mentally talk myself into the right response, knowing that’s what God wanted, yet often feeling guilty or not quite free from the jealousy. pride. need for attention. disappointment. fear. anger. that I was trying to stifle.

And in the last couple weeks I’ve walked through this funk of knowing that I’m not where I should be spiritually, and I absolutely hate it.  But it all started with a really painfully honest moment.  It’s like I’ve been picking up my running shoes and throwing them at God saying, “I don’t want to wear these anymore! I’m done pretending!  I’m done with whatever game this is!”

I wonder…perhaps hope deeply…that God is looking back at me saying, “I never asked you to wear those shoes.  I asked you to wear what you normally wear.  I asked you to be honest with me because I intimately know even the parts of you that you don’t want to own or see in yourself.  And it doesn’t change my love for you.”

And I imagine that He looks at me gently while I’m falling apart in anger or pain or even sin and says, “I’m glad you don’t want to wear those shoes…they’re no good for you.  The more vulnerable you are with me, the more of my heart you’ll understand.  When you come to me as you truly are, no pretense, no “should”- only then can I actually help you.  Only then can I mold you and show you where you need to shift to follow me- to love me- to find satisfaction and peace in me again.”

So here I am…looking at Jesus now…wondering if it’s really OK.  Wondering if I’m all enough. Wondering if my fuzzy slippers or squishy Tevas are going to cut it with Him.  But I’m taking a chance- and I’m coming back to Him as honest as I can be.  And I have a feeling it’s going to be a long road, but He’s going to take me on a journey that I’ll never regret.  And who knows if I’ll even be wearing shoes at all by the end, but I hope that whatever I’m wearing it will be nothing more or less than…me.

Do you struggle to be honest with other people?  With God?  Describe part of your journey towards being your real self.  What have you learned about yourself? What have you learned about God?  Here’s to walking it out with a little less fake and a little more truth.