What could a pair of flip-flops possibly teach us? More than you might think . . .
There are two unmistakable sounds of summer. Children laughing. And someone walking towards you in flip-flops.
Flip . . . flop . . . flip . . . flop . . .
You hear them long before you see them. They are wonderfully optimistic footwear. The moment you put them on you become convinced life is about to improve. You may only be walking to put the bins out, but somehow you feel as though you’re strolling beside the Mediterranean.
Of course, British weather likes to keep us guessing. You step outside expecting the Costa del Sol and discover you’re actually just in Costa coffee! You leave home wearing sunglasses. You return wishing you’d taken your umbrella.
Flip-flops are also wonderfully honest. They don’t pretend to be hiking boots. They’re made for walking. Slowly. One step at a time. You can’t run in them, of course. I’ve tried. The flip-flops stayed where they were. I carried on without them.
Life isn’t meant to be lived at a sprint, yet that’s exactly how many of us live. We’re racing from one appointment to another. Checking our phones every few minutes. Answering emails while eating breakfast. Planning tomorrow before we’ve started today. We’re busy making a living while forgetting to make a life.
St Paul paints a completely different picture.
‘Since we are living by the Spirit, let us follow the Spirit’s leading in every part of our lives’ (Galatians 5:25 NLT). The NIV expresses it beautifully: ‘Let us keep in step with the Spirit.’
I love that phrase. Faith isn’t about running ahead of God. It’s about walking beside him. One step. One act of obedience at a time.
Flip . . . flop . . . flip . . . flop . . .
Flip-flops teach another lesson. They don’t offer much protection. Every pebble suddenly feels enormous. Every thorn becomes a spear. Life has its sharp edges too. Disappointments. Hurts. God never promised we’d always walk on soft sand. He promised he would walk with us.
Every time I hear Flip . . . flop . . . flip . . . flop . . . I find myself thinking about another pair of sandals. John the Baptist stood beside the River Jordan and pointed to Jesus. Then he said, ‘Someone is coming soon who is greater than I am – so much greater that I’m not even worthy to stoop down like a slave and untie the straps of his sandals’
(Mark 1:7 NLT).
Those words are extraordinary. In the first century people walked everywhere in sandals. Roads were dusty. Feet became filthy. When guests arrived at a house, someone had to untie their sandals and wash their feet. It wasn’t a glamorous job. It wasn’t even an ordinary servant’s favourite job. Jewish teachers said it was such a menial task that a disciple wasn’t expected to do it for his rabbi. It belonged to the lowest servant in the household.
John looked at Jesus and said, ‘I’m not worthy even for that.’ Why? Because he knew exactly who Jesus was. The eternal Son of God. The Creator walking through his own creation. The King wearing ordinary sandals.
Here’s something I’ve noticed. The closer we walk with Jesus, the less impressed we become with ourselves and the more captivated we become with him. John wasn’t trying to make himself look humble. He simply couldn’t take his eyes off Christ. Then comes one of the most beautiful surprises in the Gospels. The One whose sandals John felt unworthy to untie later wrapped a towel around his waist, knelt before his disciples and washed their feet. The King became the servant. The Master stooped lower than the slave. Then he stretched out those same feet to be nailed to a cross. That’s the gospel. Love on its knees. Grace with a towel. Mercy wearing sandals.
So this summer, every time you hear Flip . . . flop . . . flip . . . flop . . . let it remind you of something far greater than holidays. Life isn’t a sprint. It’s a walk. Keep in step with the Spirit.
Walk humbly. Love generously. Forgive quickly. Laugh often. Point people to Jesus. Because one day your flip-flops will wear out. Your holidays will become photographs. Your footprints in the sand will disappear with the next tide. But every step you’ve taken with Christ will echo into eternity.
And there is no safer place for your feet . . . than in the footsteps of Jesus.
Grace and peace,
J.John
