The Shoe Man

We Want To Hear From YOU!This morning I would like to share a poem I recently read entitled The Shoe Man by Leanne Freiberg  My alarm went offIt was Sunday again.I was sleepy and tiredMy one day to sleep in.But the guilt I would feelThe rest of the dayWould have been too muchSo I'd go and I'd pray. I showered and shavedI adjusted my tie.I got there and satIn a pew just in time.Bowing my head in prayerAs I closed my eyes.I saw the shoe of the man next to meTouching my own. I sighed.With plenty of room on either sideI thought, "Why must our soles touch?"It bothered me, his shoe touching mineBut it didn't bother him much. A prayer began: "Our Father"... I thought, "This man with the shoeshas no pride.They're dusty, worn, and scratchedEven worse, there are holes on the side!" "Thank You for blessings," the prayer went on. The shoe man saida quiet "Amen."I tried to focus on the prayerBut my thoughts were on his shoes again.Aren't we supposed to look our bestWhen walking through that door?"Well, this certainly isn't it," I thought,Glancing toward the floor. Then the prayer was endedAnd the songs of praise began.The shoe man was certainly loudSounding proud as he sang.His voice lifted the raftersHis hands were raised high.The Lord could surely hearThe shoe man's voice from the sky. It was time for the offeringAnd what I threw in was steep.I watched as the shoe man reachedInto his pockets so deep.I saw what was pulled outWhat the shoe man put in.Then I heard a soft "clink"as when silver hits tin. The sermon really bored meTo tears, and that's no lieIt wasn’t   the same for the shoe manFor tears fell from his eyes.At the end of the serviceAs is the custom hereWe must greet new visitorsAnd show them all good cheer. But I felt moved somehowAnd wanted to meet the shoe manSo after the closing prayerI reached over and shook his hand.He was old and his skin was darkAnd his hair was truly a messBut I thanked him for comingFor being our guest. He said, "My names' CharlieI'm glad to meet you, my friend."There were tears in his eyesBut he had a large, wide grin"Let me explain," he saidWiping tears from his eyes."I've been coming here for monthsAnd you're the first to say 'Hi.'" "I know that my appearanceIs not like all the rest"But I really do tryTo always look my best."I always clean and polish my shoesBefore my very long walk."But by the time I get hereThey're dirty and dusty, like chalk." My heart filled with painand I swallowed to hide my tearsAs he continued to apologizeFor daring to sit so near.He said, "When I get hereI know I must look a sight."But I thought if I could touch youThen maybe our souls might unite." I was silent for a momentKnowing whatever was saidWould pale in comparisonI spoke from my heart, not my head. "Oh, you've touched me," I said,"And taught me, in part;"That the best of any manIs what is found in his heart." The rest, I thought,This shoe man will never know.Like just how thankful I really amThat his dirty old shoe touched my soul. God charges us to be careful with the hearts of people to not judge people by their appearance and not measure a man based on assumptions in...Read James 2:1-9Support the showwww.BibleDeliverance.org