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It was mid-October of 1969. I was a sex, drugs, and rock-in-roll seventeen year old gal, doing my own thing and going my own way. My young Marine boyfriend and I were on our way to a séance. Mind you, this was not some phony, slight-of-the-hand side-show. Trained mediums were being contacted by spirits of the dead with benevolent messages for the living. Former attendees told newspaper reporters of miraculous healings, catastrophes avoided and prosperity realized. Prophetic words had come true. This was cool stuff! Maybe a deceased relative had a guiding message for my life. Even if there were no beyond-the-grave messages for me, I knew it would be an exciting evening nonetheless.
It was mid-October of 1969. I was a sex, drugs, and rock-in-roll seventeen year old gal, doing my own thing and going my own way. My young Marine boyfriend and I were on our way to a séance. Mind you, this was not some phony, slight-of-the-hand side-show. Trained mediums were being contacted by spirits of the dead with benevolent messages for the living. Former attendees told newspaper reporters of miraculous healings, catastrophes avoided and prosperity realized. Prophetic words had come true. This was cool stuff! Maybe a deceased relative had a guiding message for my life. Even if there were no beyond-the-grave messages for me, I knew it would be an exciting evening nonetheless.
It was pouring down rain when Mark’s cherry red GTO pulled up to the sidewalk in front of Ed’s home. Since Ed had already been to the metaphysical church in Anaheim and knew what to expect, we invited him to tag along. I jumped out of the car with no umbrella and no shoes. (In those days no self-respecting teenager wore shoes unless it was mandated.) I ran up the sidewalk to ring the doorbell. Just before I reached the porch, my right foot collided with a broken coke bottle. The combination of weight and momentum produced a two inch gash on the bottom of my foot.
When Ed opened the front door, blood was everywhere. Wrapping a towel around my foot, he helped me back into the car. Mark rushed me to the naval hospital in Long Beach. We spent the next five hours in the emergency room. To this day I still have a scar on my right foot.
Needless to say, we never made it to the séance. A missed opportunity or divine protection? It took eight years and the Holy Spirit of Jesus before I could correctly answer that question. At the time, I had no idea of the dangers I was running towards. I was clueless regarding the spiritual powers of wickedness behind such occult activities. (For more information see Deuteronomy 18:9-14[1]) But God understood. And He used a piece of broken glass to save my soul from spiritual deception and bondage.
Maybe you have allowed your feet to take you into dangerous places. Maybe you ended up scarred in some way as result of ignorance or willful disobedience. If so, are you ready for a new pair of shoes?
God knows feet come in all different sizes and shapes. And He has the power to create a custom-fitted pair of gospel shoes in which to place your scarred feet. Put on your new shoes and let the peace of God heal your wounds. Then carry the gospel message of God’s peace into the whole world. There is nothing more lovely than scarred feet shod with the message of salvation.
“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news of peace and salvation, the news that the God of Israel reigns! Isaiah 52:7”[2]
[1] Blue Letter Bible. "Book of Deuteronomy 18 - (NLT - New Living Translation)." Blue Letter Bible. 1996-2010. 6 Nov 2010. < http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Deu&c=18&t=NLT >
[2] Blue Letter Bible. "The Major Prophet Isaiah 52 - (NLT - New Living Translation)." Blue Letter Bible. 1996-2010. 5 Nov 2010. < http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Isa&c=52&t=NLT >
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