Posted 462 days ago

Sole-Less Shoes

by Angel Huertas

The other day, I was at the local bank making some transactions (it makes me sound wealthy, but that’s not the case). On the way in, I saw a homeless guy walking a few feet from me. I noticed he had a shuffle in his walk, and he was basically dragging his shoes with every step. I didn’t pay much attention to it until I came out of the bank. It all made sense to me as I saw him sitting on the ground, legs spread out, revealing his sole-less shoes. I wondered what it must be like to walk in this guy’s shoes, but in reality, in the depths of my heart, I was not willing to do so one bit. I only looked from a distance.

Might this be something that many of us suffer from—looking from a distance at people’s sole-less shoes and how they drag themselves through life, doing absolutely nothing but staring? Even when we do want to help people, what’s our true motive? Do we have a hidden agenda? Do we pity them? Do we find God in them? Or are we too busy feeding our spiritual egos with our roles of “God Police” or “God Ambulance,” out to save everyone?

This makes me think of myself a few years back. About four years ago, I was at a huge yearly event in my homeland, Puerto Rico, where thousands and thousands of 18- to 30-year–olds gather to have their own version of Mardi Gras (partying, drugs, drinking, sex, and rock ‘n’ roll). This is a long-awaited weekend for many Puerto Ricans, especially college students. After a long semester pushing them over the edge with stress and loads of college work, a stress-venting event like this is to be expected.

Four years ago, it was my sixth year of attendance. For six years in a row, I went with the sole purpose of evangelism, to convert people to Jesus. I wasn’t a lone ranger engaging in this mission; there were a few hundred of us, and we drew attention, but in comparison to the masses gathered there, we were pretty insignificant. I vividly remember the excitement I used to feel being in the middle of such a chaotic and sinful environment (those were my thoughts). But in this sixth year going to these mass-evangelisms, my enthusiasm was lacking. That fire I once had for evangelism was gone. I started questioning and becoming suspicious of some of the things I believed.

Why was I there? Why would something in me get hurt when someone didn’t accept Jesus? Why were people so resistant to the gospel? And in that case, is it good news or isn’t it? Why did we end up talking more about how we evangelists felt after the event than how the people we talked to felt? Why did I feel like a failure when people didn’t respond to the gospel like I wanted them to? If it “wasn’t about me,” why did it hurt me personally? What happened to all these people we preached to after we were gone? Why did I subconsciously think of myself as better than them, just because I had accepted Jesus and they hadn’t?

In the years that followed, I traveled a bit, and the questions started intensely surging–questions of God’s nature and how expansive God’s grace is. The world isn’t made up of Christians alone, and even among Christians themselves, there’s so much division. So what will happen to the rest?

During that time, I was in Australia. I loved to go on the train because during train rides I would see the most diverse crowds—Asians, Arabs, Europeans, Americans, people of all ethnicities and religions. By not having a car, I could people-watch, something I love to do. (Many of my life lessons are learnt this way.) This was the beginning of a mind-stretching process into the “Universal Scope of God.” One time on the bus to Sydney with one of my best friends, a Nuyorican girl (a Puerto Rican born in New York) from whom I learned so much, there was a Middle Eastern guy sitting across from us. We started conversing with him and found out he was about our age and a practicing Muslim. We talked about life and about the similarities and differences in our beliefs, and it was actually very non-threatening.

I realized through this real, genuine conversation with no evangelistic agenda that I could learn something new from the “other,” that I could benefit from an “other’s” experience with the Divine, with God. It was then that I started to rid myself of the pretentious ideas that led me to be a proselytizer whose main agenda was to dismantle people’s “erroneous” convictions and turn them to the right, or should I say “righteous,” one. After all, there’s only one way to God, right?

But might we have done a horrible job at interpreting this? Might we have paved a narrower version of the “narrow path” than is necessary?

When we see people of other faiths, what do we do? Do we pity them, because they don’t have the “truth”? But could this so-called “truth” we claim to have possibly be too big to be kept in one box-sized religion?

The more I travel, the more I meet different types of people and the more I realize that God is not a Christian, or affiliated with any institutionalized religion for that matter. When one starts thinking in this direction, one’s senses become aware of colors never seen, fragrances never smelled, textures never touched, and harmonies never heard. Basically, one starts tuning into the Kingdom of God, which sees no “other.”

Another simple little story: When I was living in Brooklyn right after leaving Australia, I was riding the train, and there was a Muslim family sitting across from me. The man was reading and teaching his wife how to read Arabic (she was American). Meanwhile, I was making funny faces at the baby. This is not much of a story, but I was moved to the core by this beautiful family. I just couldn’t help but see God in this family—our God, and their God.

When one tries to look at life in the shoes of another, it could be a catalyst experience. When the “other” becomes part of you and you become part of them, we might come closer to fulfilling Jesus’ wishes when he said, “Father make them one as You and I are One.” ¹ If we pause for a moment to look around and observe our brothers and sisters on the bus, on the train, or in the street, we might hear the still small soft voice of God calling us to try on someone else’s sole-less shoes.

Notes
1. John 17:11, paraphrase

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