Beautiful Feet

I always thought the verse about how beautiful are thy feet with shoes was pretty weird.  If you have shoes on, you can't even see the feet, so what's the point?  Yes, I am one of those people.  The kind who hate shoes.  Honestly, the Lord made Adam and Eve coats of skin in the garden but it doesn't say anything about shoes, so maybe we shouldn't have to wear them?  Not to mention, the Lord told people to take their shoes off (actually, some people had maybe only one leg?  twice it tells people to take the shoe from the foot, not shoe from feet.  Maybe the Diddle Diddle Dumpling John had it right all along...)  on holy ground, so obviously shoes hamper something-er-other.

All that being said, you can imagine how difficult it was to promise one of my going-to-England-together friends that I wouldn't bring flip-flops on our journey.  I would have you know that it's suppose to be in the upper 50s while we're there, which to me seems like perfectly reasonable flip-flop weather.  Also, I don't even remember the last time I went on vacation without my trusty Nike flip-flops.  I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of wearing such comfortable things on your feet, but if not, you're missing out.  Honestly, they are the most amazing things ever.  Like a hug for the foot.  And, speaking as someone who dislikes things to interfere with my foot-to-ground ratio, that's saying a lot.

I heard once that girls walk around the house in their first pair of heels, to practice walking.  I never did that, but what I have found myself doing this week is wearing a shoes a lot, just so I can get a feel for the whole feet-being-shod thing.  Allow me to say: ick.  Honestly, my feet just aren't happy in shoes.  But I've gotten a lot of practice, so hopefully next week I won't feel frantic about all the shoe-wearing I have to do.

Chiefly I regret saying that I wouldn't bring my flip-flops.  I think I'll try to renegotiate the terms of our arrangement.  I can... buy her a meal while we're there or something, as long as I can bring the shoes of my choice?

She's pretty much never going to go for that.  Sorrow.

As the Lord commanded [me]

I was reading the end of Exodus the other day, chapter 40, to be exact, and I was struck by how many times it's recorded that the Israelites/Moses did everything as "the Lord commanded Moses."

There wasn't any wishy-washy, "As they thought best in terms of engineering," or "they did what was aesthetically pleasing," or anything like that, but they just did it. The Lord commanded? We're on it. Now, we know that through history, Israel didn't exactly keep that up (can you say "every man did what was right in his own eyes"? yeah, it gets a little crazy in Judges), but for this point in time, they did what they were asked.

And sure, we all think that if the Lord came directly to us and requested that we do such-and-such we'd be more than happy to do it just as He asked, but really, if we were honest with ourselves, I think it would occur to us that that's simply not the case. We do what we think is the smartest thing. "Oh, the Bible seems to indicate that we shouldn't do a certain thing? Well, they didn't really have [fill in the blank] back in the days when the Bible was written, so I think we can safely say that we can in good conscience to [fill in the blank]."

Riiiiight.

But it's all good and well talking about what "we" do or don't do, but really, what about me? Now, I'm not trying to be self-centered here, but it bears consideration that I, Little Jo Sleep, should always do exactly what the Lord commanded me.

Ouch.

Bright shining as the Son

Everyone loves something glowy and warm. When we travel through Indiana we pass the Warm Glow Candle Outlet Store, and we just love it. I've only stopped once (the smell was overwhelming and I wished I hadn't), but passing it is better, anyhow. There's a whole wing of the building that shaped like a candle.

That all is beside the point, except to say that I've been thinking of shiny, glowy things recently.

So, Moses. We all know about when he went atop Mt. Sinai to talk to God and he managed to see part of God from the cleft of the rock. Pretty cool stuff, I must say.

But here's what I wonder. When did that warm glow from Moses' face disappear? When did Moses not need that veil any longer? Was it a gradual thing that he didn't notice, or was it abrupt, after the first time he lost his temper after coming down from the mountain? Did the people notice it? Where they secretly glad that they didn't have to see Moses in this supremely spiritual state any longer? and did Moses mourn the loss of that outward display of the fellowship he'd had with the Lord?

I know that seems like a lot of questions about something we'll never really know the answer to, but I think it's something worth considering in our own lives. For instance, I should glow. Goodness, I should radiate. But do I? And if there are times when the Lord is able to shine through me without words, how long does it last?

I want to shine bright shining as the Son. Without Him I am nothing, and I want it to show in every word and facial expression I make.