"Church Shoes"

On big and small tears, a bad priest, liminal space, and why good church shoes can change a life forever.

“Some people were just that dense. You could cry and scream and starve yourself, and they still wouldn’t see your suffering until you opened a vein on their church shoes.” - Kevin Lucia, Liminal Spaces: An Anthology of Dark Speculative Fiction

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Church shoes: The things that make us walk and talk and look a little bit like Jesus.

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I remember the first time I walked into a Protestant church. I was in the throes of an eating disorder and burned out by life. You know that incredible passage from Isaiah 42:3?

“A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.”

That one.

That was not my experience of God on the day I walked into that little church plant.

I was at the end of the flickering flame, tired of fighting with myself, and feeling as though I was about to be snuffed out.

I sat at the back of that church and cried. It wasn’t the big, fat, ugly kind of tears. It was the quiet, hovering ones, the kind that no one will really see unless they are looking for them.

Well, Jesus was looking, and so was this pastor.

The service ended, the pastor made his way towards me, asked, “Are you new here?” and everything in my life changed.

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Lately, I have been thinking about liminality — it’s that fancy word for the space in between two things. At 3 AM a few nights ago, I experienced liminality. As I sat awake, torn between the extreme emotions of gratitude for some pretty critical things in my life right now and sorrow and fear over some equally critical things in life, I had no clue what to do or feel.

I was overcome with emotion and once again, like years prior, I felt as though I might be snuffed out. Not by God, but by the weightiness of life.

And I felt the liminal space — the one where the past is no longer and the future cannot yet be. '

As someone who does not typically become overly emotional, my tears felt abnormal and overwhelming.

And I wondered how many other people were crying that night, too — crying quiet, hovering tears or sobbing big, fat, ugly tears.

***

I am sad to report that since the pastor of that little church plant noticed my quiet tears that one Sunday morning, I have had few such experiences. I have lost track of the number of times I have walked into church with a heavy heart and moody spirit and wished someone would notice. I can count on one hand the number of times that has happened.

Maybe that is why I have etched in my memory one Sunday a year ago when I walked up to an older woman in church just to say hi. As I asked her how she was, big, fat ugly tears rolled down her face and she told me of her cancer diagnosis. My heart broke for her and I wondered how hard it was to hold those powerful, drippy things inside. And how long she had done so.

I wonder how many other people are waiting for someone to see the quiet tears that, when tenderly noticed, will pour over into big, fat, ugly, healing tears. Do you know the kind? Maybe you’ve had them. They are the kind of tears we can cry because we know that someone will catch them in their bottle. They won’t fall to the ground unnoticed.

Now I am not interested in making a long commentary on Kevin Lucia’s deeply powerful imagery I included at the top of this post. But what he writes made me think about church shoes and tears and this liminal time of our lives.

Regardless of how you feel about Pope Francis or the Catholic Church or any other church or church leader, I want you to really read what Pope Francis once said:

“I prefer a church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security . . . More than by fear of going astray, my hope is that we will be moved by the fear of remaining shut up within structures which give us a false sense of security, within rules which make us harsh judges, within habits which make us feel safe, while at our door people are starving and Jesus does not tire of saying to us, ‘Give them something to eat.’”

Now read it again. This church he speaks of is wearing church shoes.

True vs. False Church Shoes

Church shoes must not be shoes that walk into a structure on Sunday morning and walk out unchanged for the week ahead. Church shoes must not be shoes that show up for friends and not enemies, that huddle in the familiar but forget those who sit on the sidelines.

Instead, church shoes must go into places and see things that others don’t. The big, fat, ugly tears, and equally so, the quiet tears ready to spill over if there will be a safe place for them to land.

First Samuel 1 is a rather distressing passage that demonstrates what church shoes must not be. In it, a woman named Hannah is praying fervently to have a child. While praying one day, the Jewish priest, Eli, confronts her. Verses 12-18 (The Message) read:

^“It so happened that as she continued in prayer before God, Eli was watching her closely. Hannah was praying in her heart, silently. Her lips moved, but no sound was heard. Eli jumped to the conclusion that she was drunk. He approached her and said, “You’re drunk! How long do you plan to keep this up? Sober up, woman!” Hannah said, “Oh no, sir—please! I’m a woman brokenhearted. I haven’t been drinking. Not a drop of wine or beer. The only thing I’ve been pouring out is my heart, pouring it out to God. Don’t for a minute think I’m a bad woman. It’s because I’m so desperately unhappy and in such pain that I’ve stayed here so long.” Eli answered her, “Go in peace. And may the God of Israel give you what you have asked of him.”

Well!

Eli, this servant of God, does not have his church shoes on! Instead of questions and compassion, he doles out accusations and judgment. Instead of kindness and love, he pours out advice and criticism. Hannah’s big, fat, ugly tears are not kept safe, nor are they received as God would receive them.

Hannah is forced to defend her tears, and in her desperation, she is equally forced to receive Eli’s blessing! There is no apology. No acknowledgment of wrong. The church shoes Eli wore weren’t church shoes at all.

(My Bible scholar friends might say I have cut the Samuel passage a bit too short as it goes on to say that even after the accusation, Hannah actually asks Eli to pray for her! This is simply too much for me to take on in one post and in fact further emphasizes how bad church shoes can lead to bad theology.)

Here is what true church shoes do:

• They make room in the group for all people, always.

• They are generous and friendly and allow others to go before them.

• They look around and look for where darkness may be looming and run to shine light and hope.

• They slow down and decide that on some days walking is better than running.

• They know that the journey of life and relationships and hope is most important in this liminal space — it’s all we got.

• They walk into “do not enter” spaces, knowing that they may get dirty and scared but that others in these places are dirty and scared, too.

• They choose love first.

• They are happy to be worn into the ground because they want to bring goodness to others.

• And sometimes, church shoes need rest, too. Some days, church shoes just hang on the wall next to God and take a break from the world.

I am sorry if you have experienced hurt from churches or church leaders or Christian people who have had ill-fitting shoes.

Maybe you went unnoticed. Maybe your plea for help was pushed aside. Maybe your slight step towards the group was rejected.

And maybe your big, fat, ugly tears landed on empty ground.

Please know that this is not how it should be. Know that you are not alone. Maybe that’s why the moments when someone notices our quiet, hovering tears are so precious. They are often too few and far in between.

An Attempt to Sum This Up…

But if we are finding faith again, we can have church shoes, too. We can lace them up and make them do what they need to do so that someday, somewhere a life will be changed like mine was years ago.

If you feel deeply the pain and pull of this liminal time called now…

If your quiet, hovering tears are on the edge of spilling over…

If your big, fat, ugly tears long for a bottle…

you are not alone.

I am praying that you would find someone who is wearing their church shoes well. And I am praying that you would find that as you wear yours, you would lighten the load of someone else traveling this hard road of life.

Much love,

💚 Laurie