How Beautiful The Feet

December 22, 2015/Laura Holt/Comments Off

Date of original journal entry: Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Romans 10:15 How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!

Sometimes the road we have to travel is long, hot, dry, and dusty

It’s the last night of the missions conference and the church feels electric with anticipation. Over the last ten months, I have had the privilege of being in many such conferences as I travel to personally thank supporting churches for their marvelous care of us over the six years we’ve been in Sierra Leone in general, and in particular, for their prayers and encouragement during the last 18 months of separation from Stephen as he has remained on the field during the Ebola crisis. In my travels, I’ve seen the many different ways missions conferences are conducted; such a blessing to see the diversities of operations and administrations (I Cor. 12:4-6); we’re not all cookie-cutter alike and that’s healthy.

The church I’m in this night practices Faith Promise for their missions giving. And even that is implemented in very different ways from church to church. Tonight, church members will bring their Faith Promise cards and place them the altar; they’ve been praying and seeking the Lord’s guidance for their annual contribution – tonight is the culmination; last year is past, now they are looking ahead. Will they be able to move forward as a church and as individuals in their giving, thus advancing the cause of Christ?

As the anticipation reverently builds, the Lord plays out an incredible scene for me alone to witness.

We are asked to stand and bow our heads in prayer while the piano softly plays and members bring forward their cards. I have chosen to sit as my back and neck are quite tired from the travel and activity of the week. My head is bowed as my hands support my head. But my eyes are open, looking at the floor in front of me.

Slowly, just a few at first, feet begin to pass in the periphery of my vision. Softly, the Lord says, “Behold – Look at these feet.” Tears flood my eyes as the small trickle becomes a steady stream. Such beautiful feet. Cowboy boots. Tennis shoes. Flip-flops. Dress shoes. High heals. The stocking feet of a little girl with no shoes, the hem of her dress flouncing past my eyes as her mother’s tired, worn brown pumps accompany her. A cane and slow, aged feet. How beautiful are these feet. All the feet of sacrifice. The feet that make it possible for my feet and so many others to take glad tidings to far-flung reaches of the earth. More Beautiful Feet pass. More tears.

As I sat there silently praying for each pair of feet that passed by this night I was so enraptured by the sweetness and tenderness of the private scene opening up before me. All too soon the stream again became a trickle as the Beautiful Feet made their way back to their seats and my focus was then brought back to the meeting as if a window of heaven were closing.

The pastor’s wife then made her way to the platform to sing a closing song. She sings this same song every year to close out the conference but I, of course, have no knowledge of this. I’m quite astounded as she begins to sing and the opening words take my breath away:

How beautiful the hands that served

the wine and the bread and the sons of the earth.

How beautiful the feet that walked

the long dusty roads and the hill to the cross.

How beautiful –

The middle phrase of the third stanza exactly describes the picture I saw when I prayed, watching all those feet pass: