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© Project Winsome International, 2000

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"ALL GOD'S CHILDREN GOT SHOES"
Dr. John Allan Lavender
Ezekiel 3:15

"Then I came to them of the captivity at Tel-abib, who dwelt by the river of Chebar,
and I sat where they sat, and remained there astonished among them seven days."

Ezekiel had been commissioned by God to preach to a group of slaves. War refugees. People living in a concentration camp. They had been captured by the Babylonians and were confined to a small colony on the banks of the Chebar river. As always, when people are placed under the grinding heel of oppression, life had taken on a dreary hue.

And God wanted to help them. He wanted to give them hope. To reawaken their faith. To remind them of his great and precious promises. So he singled out Ezekiel, the prophet, and said: "Go get thee to them of the captivity, unto the children of thy people
and speak unto them, and tell them, 'thus sayeth the Lord.'"

So Ezekiel went. But the people were in no mood for preaching. They were filled with despair. They had suffered famine and persecution. They had been stripped of any vestige of human dignity. They were in no mood for "words." They were not ready to listen to Ezekiel, but more importantly, Ezekiel was not ready to speak to them! To really touch their hearts, he had to face what they faced. He had to taste the bitter dregs of their cup of anguish. So he went to live with them. He became a captive, too.

As one expositor has pointed out,
"Ezekiel let the blows of humiliation that fell on their backs, fall on his. He put himself in their place. He looked at the world through their eyes, until he felt what they felt." "I sat where they sat," he wrote when it was all over, "and remained there astonished among them."

As a result, his whole attitude toward them was changed. He was filled with a sense of compassion. He was, to use the Biblical phrase, "touched with the feeling of (their) infirmities" (Heb. 4:15). He looked at them through totally different eyes. The eyes of sympathy and understanding, because he sat where they sat.

It seems to me that is one of the desperate needs of our world today. We are so impatient with other people. So full of dark suspicion. So quick to judge. So slow to understand. So jealous of our "rights." So willing to harbor resentments. To cling to old hurts.

Do you remember the story of the airliner that was flying from Hawaii to San Francisco? Along the way they developed engine trouble. The pilot had them throw all of the baggage overboard to eliminate any unnecessary weight. But even so, the plane continued to lose altitude. So the pilot went back to the passenger compartment and said,
"We just can't continue to fly with all this weight on board. All of us are going to die unless four of you are willing to jump overboard for the sake of others. The copilot and I could do it," he went on, "but we have to fly the plane and make sure we land safely. I'd like you to think it over and do what you believe is right."

Well, the passengers sat silently for about five minutes and then an Englishman got up, walked to the open door of the plane, called out, "God save the Queen," and jumped overboard. After about five minutes more of a soul-searching, a Frenchman stepped to the opened door, said, "Vive la France," and jumped overboard. Another ten minutes of soul-searching passed and a big, tall Texan stood up, shouted, "Remember the Alamo," and threw two Mexicans overboard.

Well, I wanted you to laugh. That's what a joke is for. But there is a moral to the story, too. It illustrates how easy it is to hold old resentments. To cling to issues related to the long, dead past.
How hard it is for us to forgive and forget. But it seems to me that one of the desperate needs of the hour is to do just that. To be willing to learn understanding. To do what Ezekiel did. To put ourselves in the place of others. To sit where they sit. To live life as they live it. To see it thrutheir eyes, and thus achieve the understanding which is so important if we are to bridge the chasms which divide us.

The Sioux Indians have an ancient prayer which I think commends itself to all of us this morning. It goes like this:
"Oh Great Spirit, help me to never judge another until I have walked two weeks in his moccasins."
My dear sister, who sometimes gets a bit confused, was addressing a critical spirit she sensed in one of her friends. She meant to quote the prayer, but said instead, "We should never judge another person until we have spent a night in his tepee."
That, too, I guess!

The old Negro spiritual puts it this way,
"All God's children got shoes."
And, if each of us will put our self in the other fellow's shoes for a moment or two -- if we will sit where he sits -- we may come a bit closer to the goal Jesus set for us when he prayed,
"That they may all be one" (Jn. 17:21).

Baby Booties
Have you ever seen anything quite as cute as these baby booties? They belong to one of the newest additions of our bootie brigade. Aren't they something! They are just about big enough to fit on one of my fingers. But have you ever thought of how the world appeared to the little child who wears these booties?

It's a far cry from the world as you and I know it. If you don't believe me, lie flat on the floor when you arrive home this morning, and you'll begin to see how the world looks to a creeping baby. Notice how large a chair leg looks. Or the dark shadow a table casts as it looms overhead.

Notice how narrow the horizon is. This is a baby's view eye of the world. Crane your head around and notice how gigantic an adult looks from this particular angle. Then, perhaps you'll begin to understand how completely powerless a baby feels when confronted by its parents.

When you're a baby, big people can rouse you out of a pleasant sleep. They can seize you from your crib. Swing you into the air. Douse you with water. They can give. They can take away. You are totally dependent upon them. They are omnipotent, or so it seems!

When a baby is hungry, she can't scrounge around in the refrigerator and come up with the makings of a dagwood sandwich. She is utterly dependent upon outside help. When food comes and her hunger pangs are appeased, she falls asleep -- not so much from pleasure -- as from outright relief. So you see, even the world of a baby is not without complications and the little person who wears these tiny shoes is in need of understanding.

I know babies can be "little monsters." In fact, I believe in sex education for adults. So when they ask themselves, "What did I do to deserve this? they'll know!"

We are so impatient with our babies when they cry. Yet, when you stop to think about it -- when you sit where they sit -- when you look at the world through their eyes, when you put on their shoes, you begin to wonder why they don't cry more.

Imagine the shock of being plucked from the pleasurable security of your mother's womb -- where every need is supplied along with perfect comfort, warmth and security -- and being thrust into a world of cold reality where you are completely incapable of caring for yourself. Then, as if that were not enough, imagine facing the necessity of making more adjustments in your first eighteen months than any other segment of your life.

The first eighteen months of a baby's existence are the most demanding of his lifetime. During that period he is weaned from his mother's breast. He learns to see. To use his muscles. To feed himself. To sit and crawl, then walk and talk. It is then he begins learning the disciplines which will serve him throughout his lifetime.

All of this is very demanding, and sometimes I'm afraid we fail to give our youngsters adequate emotional support during these demanding weeks. We fail to sit where they sit. We fail to think as they think. We forget their little minds do not function like ours. We forget they are completely literal. They take everything at face value.

Yesterday, while I was preparing this sermon, my telephone rang and it was Jeff. He was wondering if I could come home and play with him and his friends. I said, "Jeffy, I'd love to, but I am all tied up." A few minutes later, as I looked out of my office window, I saw him and his buddies running down the street toward the church. I stopped what I was doing, went outside to greet them and, with eyes as big as saucers, he said, "Who untied you?"

We forget children are not miniature adults. They are a very special kind of life. Living in the same world and yet a different world. Using the same words and yet speaking a different language.

In this month's Coronet magazine, Dr. Herbert S. Benjamin, has an article entitled "What is a Child?" He points out that in the early renaissance, around the beginning of the fourteenth century, the old masters used to paint children to look like miniature adults. The next time you are in an art gallery, study some of the renaissance paintings of the Madonna and the child and you will see they really look more like the Madonna and a little man Dr. Benjamin goes on to show that, as the centuries passed, artists learned to represent children as a very special kind of life. That's what children are: a very special kind of life! And, it will be better for them and for us when we realize it.

Ezekiel said, "I sat where they sat" And maybe we would be less impatient, less quick to chastise, more understanding and full of love if, for a few moments of every day, we would put on the shoes of our children and walk where they walk. Sit where they sit. See with their eyes. Hear with their ears. Think with their minds. Feel with their emotions until we begin to understand why they act as they do.

A Young Mother's Flats
While we are talking about children, it might be wise to stop for a moment and put on these shoes worn by their young mothers.

I have often wondered what would happen if all of us husbands had to stay home for a while and do the housework and care for the kiddies. I suppose some of you fellows would rise to the occasion. But I've got to admit the few times I've done it, it merely drove me to distraction. I know one thing for sure that the fellow who said "School days are the happiest days of your life," was absolutely right, provided your children are old enough to go! Bless their hearts -- we wouldn't want to do without them -- but they certainly know how to try your patience.

The other day I was out making some calls and along about a-quarter-to-six, I stopped at the home of one of our young couples to see them for just a moment. I know it's a poor time to call, but it was the only time I could be sure of seeing both of them together. The man of the house didn't get home until six o'clock and, since the dinner was in the oven, this young mother sat down to carry on a conversation with her pastor.

By actual account, she got up 15 times in 15 minutes. During that brief span of time her little boy fell down three times. Cried twice. Broke a glass. Got locked in the bathroom. Turned on the radio -- full blast -- right behind me! Almost fell down the basement stairs and dumped the garbage on the kitchen floor. Judging from her comments, this was par for the course. Through it all, she answered an endless stream of questions from her two older children, listened to a report of what had happened at cub scouts from one and school from the other. Settled a quarrel between them. Turned off the oven so the meat wouldn't burn. Turned up the gas so the coffee would be hot when her husband got home. Carried on a perfectly coherent conversation with her pastor. And, even though she had not felt like it, looked as fresh as a daisy when her husband walked in the door!

Sometimes, fellas, I wonder if we guys really appreciate our wives. We are so quick to criticize. So slow to praise. And, "Breathes there a man with soul so dead, who never to his wife has said, 'Why can't you make it like my mother did?'"

I think if we men could be Ezekiel for a day or two -- if we could sit where our wives sit and put on their shoes -- we would be a bit more understanding. For theirs is as complicated a job can be. Cook. Seamstress. Laundry woman. Business manager. Child psychologist. Financier. Teacher. Cleaning woman. Companion. Mother confessor. Sweetheart. And, most especially, a bulwark of strength and understanding in a time of storm.

Her desk is the kitchen sink. Her laboratory is the baby's nursery. Her office is the hearthside. Her job the most demanding on earth. And yet, for the most part, our wives and mothers not only fulfill their expectations -- they exceed them!

A teacher asked one of her small students a question in fractions. "Suppose your mother baked a pie and there were seven of you. Your father. Your mother. And five children. What fraction of the pie would you get?" "One-sixth," answered the boy. "But there are seven of you," answered the teacher. "Don't you know anything about fractions?" "Yes," the boy replied. "I know about fractions. But I also know my mom. If there were seven of us and we only had six pieces of pie, she would say she didn't want any." Thank God for Christian wives and mothers. They are deserving of our truest love and appreciation.

Saddle Shoes
This pair of saddle shoes is immediately recognized as the badge of our present generation. Jodi calls them "horse-shoes." I don't suppose there is any more maligned group than today's teenager. We are constantly being reminded of the swelling tide of juvenile delinquency. Our newspapers blaze headlines across the page assuring us that the world is going to the dogs. Reams of publicity are given to the teens who stampede after Elvis Presley. Or write 5,000 letters a week to James Dean, a movie idol who has been dead for three years.

But this little fringe is no more typical of today's teenager than is a skid-row bum is typical of today's adult. The thing that amazes me is not the number of teenagers who become involved in crime and immorality, but rather the millions of kids who live victoriously in a world which makes it incredibly difficult to live a "straight arrow" life.

Today our nation operates on a kind of "alley cat morality" that encourages people to wander from marriage to marriage. Every time we turn around we find our sex drive exploited by the Madison Avenue Boys who want to sell everything from beer to bubble bath and cologne to Cadillacs. Is it any wonder we have so much sexual promiscuity today when the youngsters who wear these shoes -- who are just learning how to handle this tremendous urge -- are constantly bombarded on every hand with sexual stimuli? The mystery is not that we have some promiscuity, but that we don't have more!

Our teenagers face some terrific problems today. Problems we adults never even thought about. The other day I read they now make hydrogen bombs in three sizes: Small. Medium. And where is everybody? Is it any wonder there is indefinable dread -- an unreasoned restlessness -- among teenagers today?

Never before has a generation faced so many problems. For the first time in history, today teenagers must actually come to grips with the potential annihilation of the whole human race. When you and I were young there was always the threat of war and depression and hardship. But never once did we have to face so uncertain a future as our teenagers face today. For, never before did our world hold within its hands the power to destroy itself!

Almost two generations ago, some of you fought the war to end all wars. But, instead of doing that, the First World War brought on a struggle which is still going on! The only peace the world enjoyed between WWI and WWII was an occasional "short pause for nation identification."

Then my generation came along. We fought the war for the four freedoms. Yet we have less freedom today than any time in history. All of this has taken its toll upon our young people. There is a clear cynicism abroad in our land and our teenagers are not immune to it The miracle to me is that our kids who wear these saddle shoes are as happy and normal and well-adjusted as they are. For even under the best circumstances, our teens live in a time of terrible turbulence.

Tremendous emotional storms also rage within teenagers. He or she is faced with a changing body. A blossoming personality. A developing mind. A desire for independence coupled with a need for belonging. All of this -- added to the tremendous insecurity of our world -- creates an atmosphere in which it is not easy to live.

"I sat where they sat." Yes, it would do some of us adults good to be Ezekiel for a little while. To put ourselves in the place in of our teenagers. For "all God's children got shoes" and this particular pair is not easy to wear.

Workers' Boots
And then I have a pair of boots -- they don't have any shine and they aren't very attractive -- but they belong to a worker in one of the steel mills in south Chicago. I think it would do a lot of us good, if, for a moment, we sat where he sits.

The labor movement has made some tremendous strides in the last 30 years. The laboring man of the early 1900's with his lunch pail, overalls and sooty face making a dollar a day -- living in the slums or working in a festering industrial plant -- has been replaced by a highly skilled, carefully trained craftsman who drives to work in his late model car. Has a daughter in the university. Takes a trip each summer. Watches tv at night. Owns a nice home.

The factory where he works is usually quite pleasant. Sometimes, even landscaped with lawns, flowers and shrubbery. More often then not, it has recreational facilities. Offers him protection against injury. Gives him wonderful pay. Good hours. And a retirement program.

But with all of these wonderful advances, today's laboring man is still very much in need of our understanding, for he faces a very grave danger. The danger of losing his identity. He has become a member of the assembly line. A cog in a wheel. Part of a labor force. A "nine-to-fiver" who is required to have very little initiative.

His job is prescribed for him by someone a little higher up the ladder. He is told to do it in a certain way and at a certain speed. He does everything routinely and there is little incentive to be anything more than average. The philosophy of his union leaders is to get more and more for less and less. He works in a society where featherbedding is an accepted practice and where deliberate slowdowns are not uncommon. As we saw recently in the case of the Teamsters Union, the average worker is almost powerless to resist the system. He has become captive of the very organization which was supposed to set him free.

And believe me, my sympathies are with him. While working my way through seminary, I belonged to a labor union. I saw the corruption and manipulation to which working people are subjected. And I think many of us need to sit where he sits. To wear his shoes. To feel what he feels: a tremendous struggle to retain his identity. His individuality.

One of the greatest problems facing the man who wears these boots is to feel a sense of purpose and meaning in his work. That isn't easy when you do the same dull task over and over a thousand times a day. It's so easy for him to feel life has been "rutualized." Like the Italian day laborer who, when asked why he dug ditches, answered,
"I diga da ditch to buya da bread to getta da strength to diga da ditch."

One of the greatest threats to the man who wears these shoes is the disease of monotony -- the sickness of cynicism -- as he wrestles with the feeling that what he does has little or no real meaning..

Executive Dress Shoes
But if there is a great need to understand the laborer, there is also an equally great need to understand the manager. It seems to me we ought to give some thought to the fellow who wears these executives shoes.

A recent issue of Business Week magazine pointed out that the average executive works 60 hours a week and the average sales manager puts in between 65 and 70 hours a week. The man who wears these shoes, for instance, is away from home an average of four nights a week. No extra pay for this. It is part of the job.

Not only are there tremendous commands made upon this man's personal time, but his wife is involved also. Very often his success -- and the rapidity with which he moves up the ladder -- is linked directly to the woman to whom he is married. But, even though she is extremely involved in his career, there is no extra pay for her contribution either.

Then there are the tremendous pressures of responsibility. A constant battle with the P and L column. The struggle to maintain a profit and avoid a loss. This is particularly difficult during times like these when business is bad and cost per item is going up. For, you see, the honest employer -- the Christian executive -- is concerned about the people who work for him. Their problems are his problems. He doesn't want to lay them off unless it is absolutely necessary. So he makes work. He puts them on non-productive jobs, and this fixed overhead increases his cost of production and reduces his margin of profit.

I talked with one man this week who wears executive shoes. He's a small businessman. He just invested $300,000 in a new plant. Now, that business has fallen off, he's taking jobs below cost just to keep his workers busy. Last month he lost $12,000.

Not only is the man who wears these shoes subjected to economic pressures, but also to personal pressures. A week ago, the man who actually wears this pair of shoes! had the tough job of firing three employees. One had been with his firm for 25 years!

This past week he had to sit down and spend an hour with a young employee who was eager to do a good job and was excited about his recent experiences with the company After listening to the lad talk about his wife and new baby, the man who wears these shoes had to tell him that, as of last Friday, because of economic conditions his relationship with the company would be terminated. He watched the expression on the young man's face as he recoiled from the shock of it. The man who wears these shoes said, "Pastor, it was as if someone had kicked me in the stomach. I was sick at heart and went home with a raging headache."

"I sat where they sat." Some of us think the role of the executive -- the place of the employer -- is duck soup. A bowl of cherries. But, if we could be Ezekiel for just a little while and put on their shoes, we would begin to look at them with a new sense of appreciation and understanding.

The Sandals of Christ
The last pair of shoes to which I would direct your attention this morning, must be seen by the eye of your imagination. They are a pair of dusty sandals. They show signs of rough and heavy wear. They have been across some tough terrain. The feet they have protected have sped from town to town. Healing the sick. Feeding the poor. Raising the dead. Comforting the sorrowing. Bringing salvation to the lost.

These "shoes" have felt the dew of early morning, for the One who wore them often arose before daybreak to enter a garden to pray.
These "shoes" have known the dampness of the night and the blistering heat of a desert day, for the One who wore them wrested with self and Satan for forty days and nights alone in the wilderness.

These "shoes" have walked on water. They have become clogged with the grit and grime of the dusty roads of old Jerusalem They are stained with the blood that dripped from the wounded feet of the One who had worn them.

Oh, there is nothing special about these sandals. There were hundreds of pairs just like them. But, as you know, there is something special about the One who wore them, for these are the "shoes" of Christ.

I wonder if you can put on his "shoes" for a moment?
Can you stand with him through the scenes of outrage and insult he endured on the night in which he was betrayed?
Can you stand with him before Pilot and Herod and see him browbeaten, bullied, scourged and spat upon?
Can you stumble with him down the twisting, torturous streets of old Jerusalem amid the jeering of the throng?
Can you feel the weight of his cross as it grinds his sandals against the cobblestones?
Can you see him stretched upon the cross?
Can you hear the dreadful sound of the sledge as the spikes are driven through his hands and feet? Can you feel the agony that rips through his body as that cross is lifted up and plunged into a socket in the earth -- leaving the sweetest, gentlest, bravest, loveliest man who ever lived -- to die between two thieves?
Can you say, as he said, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do?"

Such was the man who wore these shoes.
A man "despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief."
A man who suffered insult and injury beyond anything you and I could ever know. And yet, his first thought as he hung upon his cross, was one of forgiveness for those who had caused him so much pain.
Here, my friend, is the incarnation of love. The epitome of passion. The soul of understanding. Here is the spirit that can bridge the chasms which divide us as peoples and nations -- that can break down the barriers between us -- as races and clans.

Christ and Christ alone can help us make peace with God. When that happens -- when we make peace with him -- when we truly love God with all our heart and mind and soul and strength, we will be able to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Yes, Christ is the answer to the problems confronting us. He is the solution to every difference that divides us. The question is: Are you willing to sit where he sat? To walk where he walked? To endure what he endured? To suffer what he suffered until, ultimately, you see what he saw. The possibility of a saint in every sinner. A friend in every enemy. A brother in everyone created in the image of God? Listen!

(This sermon was followed -- with no introduction -- by a soloist or choir singing, "I Walked Today Where Jesus Walked.")