The Feet of a Disciple

I was reminded tonight of the pain that I had endured and continue to experience as I peeled away dead skin where there once were blisters. My mind wandered back to the small farming towns where I often stopped due to cows crossing the path or heard the hum of tractors in fields off in the distance as took step after step along dusty cobbled path. Because my Camino brought pain, I am able to find healing. I was given and a new understanding of what it means to have the feet of Jesus.

The first day my shoes declared war on my feet. My socks chose to make allies with my shoes. Every step was a battle. Every night I spent what seemed like eternity unwrapping my bandages, peeling off blister protectors that had lost their stick, and hobbling around to find more Compeed at the nearest pharmacy only to use the whole package on one foot  (dramatic emphasis mostly accurate). Each pinky toe, big toe, and heal required my fine tuned first aids skills. I labored as I strategically bandaged the most awkward of places on the human foot. In order for these bandages to stay I had to use my trusty athletic training skills (thanks rooms) and gauze pads to ensure the safety of my feet and to give them a fighting chance against my shoes. Well by day three this all had become tiring and nothing seemed to be healing.

I was hurting. I was frustrated. I wanted to quit.

In the early hours of Friday morning, I pulled out my trusty Chaco’s and slowly pulled their straps over my sore feet only after adding a few more pieces of tape where it had peeled away over night. My feet needed a break from war. Every pilgrim I passed that day looked down and with pain in their eyes would shake their head and tell me to take care of my feet. You think I want to feel this pain with every step?! Your sympathy does not help. Thank you very much! I wanted to yell, but of course I smiled and only responded with “Buen Camino”. With all the tape, my feet looked worse then they felt and I knew that healing was coming, eventually, so I kept on. To be honest, I hid most of the pain behind a smile. But I think you do too. 

As I trekked along dirt and rocks, over cow droppings, and through the pain my feet changed. At the end of the day my sandals were covered in dust, my feet were dirty, smelly, calloused, and sun tanned. My feet literally became what I imagine a first century disciple’s feet to look (and smell) like. I have been praying to be more like Jesus, and I guess I should be more careful what I say to God.

A couple summers ago a camper asked me what it meant to 'pick up your cross and carry it' a common christianese saying. I mumbled through an answer only to conclude I really had no good explanation. As the kilometers passed, with every step I was reminded of pain, but I gained a clearer picture of what this saying means. I think picking up one's cross probably looks a whole lot like a sweaty pilgrim tightening their dusty shoes, slinging on their worn and heavy pack, strapping it tight around their waist, whispering a little prayer for strength, and taking a step knowing that the path ahead will bring pain. 

It is so easy to focus on the love and mercy Jesus talked and walked that often I forget about the pain that had to happen first for the love and mercy to be shown. In order for the bleeding woman to be healed, she first had to be unclean. In order for his sight to be restored, the man first had to be blind. The same goes for the man with leprosy, the paralytic, and those with legions of demons. Now, I am not saying that God inflicts suffering upon people. Rather, without suffering, we are unable to experience healing. In order for God to redeem His world, Jesus first had to suffer. Jesus suffered. When each person met Jesus, he never left them by just healing their physical illness. Jesus says to each of them, and to each of us, "Go in peace and be freed from all your suffering." 


My Camino was about suffering, but that also makes it about healing. With every step my prayer to become more like Jesus was being answered.

¿Buen Camino?