Cement Shoes

Most of us are familiar with the old ganster films, where the innocent, or not so innocent, victim ends up in a river with "cement shoes." Well, this past Sunday in church, I experienced my own version of cement shoes...right there in the pew during worship. There wasn't a ganster with a long, but endearing, Italian last name. There weren't any open, vile threats against my life. There weren't any guns, or guys with no neck staring me down. It was just me...and the presence of God.

Cement is an interesting element. You buy it in a bag of dry, powdered material. It only becomes cement when water is added, in the right proportion, and then it sets. Once it is set, it takes a sledge hammer to break it up. It is solid. That's why it is used for things like patios, fence postings, and throwing people into rivers. It's meant to KEEP YOU WHERE YOU ARE.

So there I was in church. I had skimmed the bulletin and worship had begun. Familiar songs had me well on my way to enjoying the congregational interface with our Creator. But then something happened. It got personal. You know, the ALTAR time....dun, dun, dun. We were being led into some songs that were very contemplative and declarative at the same time...dangerous territory when you are just enjoying the predictable moment. Because when you least expect it, the Holy Spirit enters your worship and you are a goner. Of course, this is a good thing...unless you have cement shoes.

Jesus, I love you more than life. I can still hear it. The resounding chorus. Even before the altar call, I knew what was coming. The Holy Spirit is gentle, and when you have heard His voice before, it is not strange. I have been desiring more of God's very Word in my life, yet not allowing the time to foster this relationship. I knew what I wanted - what God was wanting from me, but I was allowing everything else to get in the way. The pastor gently interjected into the worship service to come to the altar if we felt like we needed to take a step, make a declaration, somehow make this a personal dialog between ourselves and the Most High. Yes, I cried...but it was inside. The voice was swallowed in the tears that were streaming down my face. The couple right in front of me, left their row to go down front. One by one, they came to the altar to make a public plea to Jesus. And my feet did not move.

Cement. It's as plain as that. The cement of my fear, my insecurity, my pride, my (feel free to fill in the blank here). I could sway and sing and cry. But I could not move. I opened my eyes and desparately looked around for a sign, a clue, a mere impulse that could move me from my place. But all I could do was close my eyes again and sing...and weep.

God, being the gracious and merciful Creator, met me where I was. His compassion wrapped around me and I knew His presence. But I never recovered from my cement shoes. They were too heavy - the fear of what people would think, was my trip to the altar genuine, what about the sin in my life (because we are all sinners), what about......this is what haunted me throughout the service and on my drive home. Why couldn't I move?

Because I was mindful of my utter need for a Savior at that moment, and at the same time, my complete undeserving soul. The water of conviction had been mixed with all my doubts and fears, creating a concrete that embedded my feet so deeply. But Scripture tells us that God's love for us is deep and wide. He sets our sin as far as the east is from the west. That is as far as far can be. John 10:10 says Satan comes to steal, kill and destroy. But Jesus comes to give life everlasting. I propose to you that the cement is stealing, killing and destroying my life and maybe yours. Once it is set, it is hard, and not easily broken. But God's love and grace, and the work Jesus did on the cross is once and for all time. We have free access to the Throne, but we must believe.

Faith can move mountains. So how hard could it be to move a couple of cement shoes? Nothing is too hard for my God. By faith, certainly I can move a couple of cement shoes. I'm coming down next time. Watch out for the fallout when my shoes break apart.

It is time that the cement shoes we walk in are broken forever.