Now, I do know it’s still February.
I really do.
But the not-so-problem-problem is this…
It’s been so beautifully sunny over these last 4 days that, despite the cold, today I finally gave in to the tempation-I-just-couldn’t-resist and wore my flip flops.
The celebratory first flip flop wearing of 2013.
It’s been a good day.
You have to understand me here.
I love flip flops.
I really do.
I love them in a I-would-wear-them-every-single-possible-day-if-it-were-socially-acceptable-and-mean-that-I-wouldn’t-catch-hyperthermia-as-I-live-in-the-North-of-Scotland kind of way.
I think that my deep connection with feet-freeing-footwear comes from a childhood spent on Devon beaches and a 5 year stint in Somerset.
Something about living by the beach means you just have to embrace the sand-between-your-toes feeling in all-potential weather.
Something about having mostly lived by the beach all your life means the compulsion stays with you even when you don’t.
And wearing my flip flops today reminded me of a really-very-funny-yet-incredibly-annoying habit that my old boss used to have of stealing your flip flops.
And throwing them.
All the time.
Like, you would just be sitting in Church, in a meeting, minding your own business, whatever… Perfectly focused on the sermon, the speaker, the teacher, whatever… When he would lean over, grab your closest-to-him flip flop, and throw it as far as he could in the opposite direction, across the room, far, far away…
And then he would laugh. A lot. And think it was so funny.
And sometimes it was.
But sometimes it was infuriatingly annoying.
I dread to think how many minutes, that added up to hours, I spent chasing, fetching, rescuing my footwear from random landing places over the years.
But yet the vision of me running, one flip flop on, one flip flop off, across my old Church made me smile today.
It really did.
Running with purpose. (Or I suppose hopping with purpose.)
To rescue something that was lost.
And a couple of verses struck me as I fondly-remembered running barefoot chasing my randomly-thrown footwear.
Isaiah 52 v 7…
How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger who brings good news, the good news of peace and salvation, the news that the God of Israel reigns!
Or as it’s quoted in Romans 10 v 15…
How can they preach unless they are sent? As it written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’
Because my boss’s slightly-annoying-yet-amusingly-nostaglic habit definitely sent me running in a particular direction of travel.
Sent me running.
To find something that was lost.
And I was thinking about what God needs to do today, right now, to send me running in the particular direction of travel that He wants me to go.
To send me.
To preach the good news to those that are lost.
To have the beautiful-flip-flop-clad feet of one who brings the good news.
His Good News.
Because I want to be sent.
And I want to run in the path His commands, because He has set my heart free.
Even in flip flops.
Always in flip flops 🙂