For Want of a Shoe…Discalced Diplomacy

A number of years ago, I wrote about a particular approach to relationally engaging with those with whom we disagree. In our current season of highly partisan strife and invective, I think that this approach might be helpful to someone. So, I am reprinting it here. If you wish to see it in its original location it is found on my Compelled2 blog.

The first question that many of my readers might have is, “What does discalced mean?” It simply means “without shoes”. In Exodus 3:4-6 we see God reveal himself to Moses at the burning bush with the command for him to take off his sandals.

When the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then he said, “Do not come near; take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” And he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

Even today, many cultures do not wear their shoes into homes or 

houses of worship because they know the street is unclean and don’t want to track the grime and gutter-grunge of their world into the presence of their hosts.

There were men and women of faith in centuries past that who became convinced that the monastic orders of which they were a part had grown too worldly, and were seeking their own pleasure instead of being wholehearted followers of Jesus. It seems that they irritated their own people with all their talk of reform and either chose—or were forced—to leave and start their own missional communities. One sign of their devotion was to stop wearing shoes, or later, to wear only sandals. For example, St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross started the Discalced Carmelite orders in the 16^th Century.

My story has nothing to do with medieval mendicant orders, at least not directly. But they removed their shoes as a symbol of a radical commitment to follow Jesus rather than compromising their convictions to serve the status quo.

Some years ago I had a similar experience. I was at a gathering of pastors and leaders from a number of churches for a three-day time of mutual encouragement and seeking the Lord together without the normal conference-style agenda. During our last time of gathered worship, I felt strongly that the Lord wanted me to take off my shoes.  I have to confess that I wasn’t very open to the idea. To my rational German/British upbringing it made no sense, and I could discern no explanation for the prompting. The music was quite loud in a rather small space so I moved to the back of the room to sort things out and preserve what was left of my hearing. While standing there in the midst of a time of praise I finally made the decision to obey the prompting of the Holy Spirit and humble myself by removing my shoes…opening myself up to potential embarrassment if questioned. It was a profound moment of surrender, over a very simple request, where I had to trust that responding to the Lord was more important than any appearances. After the service ended, I put on my shoes and headed for the airport to fly home. Still, I had no explanation in my heart, from the Lord, about why I had been asked to take my shoes off. There was not even a hint of the “for this is holy ground” that Moses had received at the burning bush. However, I knew that at that moment I was in right relationship with the Lord and wasn’t holding anything back.  

On the flight to Atlanta, I was privileged to sit next to a critical care nurse headed to visit her aging mother in California. After a time of chatting about my destination in Oregon, she labeled herself as a “lapsed Catholic New Age practitioner.” Upon hearing this I asked her to tell me what that meant. She was surprised that I was interested, saying “Most Christians I meet don’t want to hear anything about what I believe.” This led to a delightfully serene conversation about our core convictions while the plane was increasingly batted about by the thunderstorm raging outside. 

At one point she confessed that she could tell that I must be “a holy man” for I had “very clean energy.” I thanked her for the compliment. At that point, I realized that if I hadn’t humbled myself at the Lord’s request just a couple of hours earlier, she would probably not have noticed any “clean energy” emanating from me. It was the Holy Spirit that guided me in an unhurried, patient, and kind approach, my discalced diplomacy if you will, which created space for thoughtful and authentic interaction to occur. I consciously left my ideological shoes at the door so as to hear her in her own words, instead of parroting all the anti-New Age authors and apologists I may have heard in the past.

I listened respectfully, asked clarifying questions when necessary, and thanked her genuinely for helping me understand her perspective, with only the admission, “That is very different from what I believe.” A few minutes later she asked me about my beliefs and how they were different from her own.

As things grew more turbulent outside, I noticed there were others listening in on our conversation. There was the woman one row in front of us who had turned her head so that she could listen through the gap between the seatbacks.  There was the middle-linebacker-looking man across the aisle whose reddened face and bulging neck veins made me wonder if he disagreed with what I was saying or was fighting airsickness. To my surprise, once we landed, a co-worker of mine, who had been seated five or six rows away said that everyone around us had been listening and he had been praying for hearts to be receptive to the gospel presented conversationally.

There is a verse of conventional wisdom, nearly a thousand years old, which says,

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.
For want of a horse, the rider was lost.
For want of a rider, the message was lost.
For want of a message, the battle was lost.
For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

The proverbial lesson, that every small detail matters, is not lost on me. We have no excuse to be lazy or careless in our calling. Yet I also know the Lord often works in counter-intuitive ways.

 

So, what if we intentionally took our metaphorical shoes off when engaging others with diverse perspectives and worldviews? What would happen if we simply took off the ideological combat boots of the culture wars and the supple-to-hand designer shoes of our consumption-based economy, and went barefoot for a bit? Then after slowing down and stepping on a rock or two we tried to walk in the other person’s proverbial moccasins for a mile or so.

I remember having to walk down a gravel road to the beach and back many times while growing up and most often we were barefoot. The gravel was uneven and sharp which made the trip painful, slow, and a bit unsteady as we tried to pick our way through and find the best route for everyone. Perhaps we should approach our times of inter-faith and multi-ethnic diplomacy the same way…slowly and sacredly.

 

“Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.” (Col. 4:6)

 

[Update: I wrote this five years ago, but in recent weeks we have seen the world changed by the Covid-19 virus. Many areas are on lockdown or at least social distancing. One thing that public health leaders advised early on was to not wear our shoes in the house. Instead of potentially tracking the virus into our literal and spiritual homes, let's take off our physical and metaphorical shoes out of love for others!]