THE SHOE MAN My alarm went off, it was Sunday again.
I was sleepy and tired, my one day to sleep in.
But the guilt I would feel, the rest of the day
Would have been too much, so I'd go and I'd pray.
I showered and shaved, I adjusted my tie.
I got there and sat, in a pew just in time.
Bowing my head in prayer as I closed my eyes.
I saw the shoe of the man next to me touching my own. I sighed.
With plenty of room on either side, I thought, "Why must our soles touch?"
It bothered me, his shoe touching mine, but it didn't bother him much.

A prayer began: "Our Father"
I thought, "This man with the shoes has no pride, they're dusty, worn, and scratched – even worse, there are holes on the side!"
"Thank You for blessings," the prayer went on.
The shoe man said, a quiet "Amen."
I tried to focus on the prayer, but my thoughts were on his shoes
again – aren't we supposed to look our best,
when walking through that door?
"Well, this certainly isn't it," I thought, glancing toward the floor.

Then the prayer was ended and the songs of praise began.
The shoe man was certainly loud sounding proud as he sang.
His voice lifted the rafters, his hands were raised high.
The Lord could surely hear the shoe man's voice from the sky.

It was time for the offering and what I threw in was steep.
I watched as the shoe man reached into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out, what the shoe man put in.
Then I heard a soft "clink" as when silver hits tin.

The sermon really bored me, to tears, and that's no lie
It was the same for the shoe man for tears fell from his eyes.
At the end of the service as is the custom here
We must greet new visitors and show them all good cheer.
But I felt moved somehow and wanted to meet the shoe man
So after the closing prayer I reached over and shook his
Hand – he was old and his skin was dark., and his hair was truly a mess
But I thanked him for coming, for being our guest.

He said, "My names' Charlie. I'm glad to meet you, my friend."
There were tears in his eyes but he had a large, wide grin.
"Let me explain," he said, wiping tears from his eyes.
"I've been coming here for months and you're the first to say 'Hi.'"
"I know that my appearance "Is not like all the rest
"But I really do try to always look my best."
"I always clean and polish my shoes before my very long walk.
"But by the time I get here they're dirty and dusty, like chalk."

My heart filled with pain and I swallowed to hide my tears,
As he continued to apologize for daring to sit so near.
He said, "When I get here, I know, I must look a sight.
"But I thought if I could touch you then maybe our souls might unite."

I was silent for a moment knowing whatever was said would pale in comparison,
I spoke from my heart, not my head.
"Oh, you've touched me," I said,
“And taught me, in part; that the best of any man is what is found in his heart." The rest, I thought, this shoe man will never know – like just how thankful I really am that his dirty old shoe touched my soul.

When I read it, I realised how true it is! We see people or hear about people (whether actual people or ‘people types’) and immediately set about categorising them or surrounding them with particular characteristics. Different types of people come with different expectations and levels of acceptance – homeless people, prostitutes, people of various ethnicities, unemployed, mentally ill, drug addicts or those who are just different. We use all manner of pejorative terms to describe people who are different.

Sometimes, like the person in the poem, we stumble upon the realisation that our understanding, our thoughts is all wrong. Our judgement is wrong and the person(s) is quite different from what we have thought.

I remember, several years ago, leading a youth group where a number of ‘street kids’ came and joined in. They were loud, rude and disturbing. One night, I had had enough of the interruptions from one particular boy and lost my temper. He was rude and totally disruptive. I yelled at him and told him off for his rudeness. I was totally surprised when he went suddenly silent and there were tears in his eyes, which he tried to hide with his arm. After the others went off to do an activity, he stayed sulkingly quiet. I went and spoke to him, apologising for losing my cool. After a while he opened up and I heard the most horrific story of abuse by his stepfather. I heard the story of a boy (about 14-15?) who was frightened to go home before his stepfather returned from the pub, for fear he would receive a belting for no reason. He would often sleep in the garage with his dog to hide or just wander the streets with his mates until the early hours of the morning.

This young man was really a terrified kid who was trying to find a place to belong, trying to find acceptance and acting out his anger, rage and fear.It was an horrific story and I suddenly saw him and his friends in a very different way! They suddenly looked quite different!

There are many people I have prematurely judged and later learned dreadful lessons which showed up my arrogance and stupidity. I have been humbled and God has shown me up for what I am – a prejudiced, judgemental person, ignorant of the truth. When I finally succumb to humility and learn to listen, I discover a human being who needs grace and love as much as I do. I discover a person who God has created and loves and realise I need to love them as well. We live in a world where people become objects and subject to judgement and abuse. We are part of churches that, sadly, are also ill-informed and judgemental as we discard and reject human beings who need to receive and celebrate God’s love. They are different and we fear them or they don’t ‘fit’ so we turn them away.

May the One who receives us, loves us and forgives us help us to receive and love each other and those who are different!