Sure Your Faith Fits?

As a kid, when Mom took me shoe shopping, there was an actual sales person who measured my foot with a tool called the Brannock Device. Before trying on any shoes, I’d stand with one stocking foot on the Brannock Device. The shoe salesman would adjust the knobs to accurately measure length, width and the arch of my foot. No matter how old I got, my feet only grew longer, not wider, which always caused the salesperson to say to Mom, “She sure has a long, narrow, flat foot.” 

Those words always made me feel like I had a terminal illness, that I was in some way doomed or that my long, flat, narrow feet were something I should fix. 

Having size 9 AAAA feet only means that my choices in shoes is more limited than a woman with size seven A. Consequently, while growing up I’d inherit the dresses, skirts and blouses of my older sisters, but I never inherited any of their shoes. Though I was the youngest of the girls, my feet were the biggest. 

Knowing that my feet are long, flat, and narrow, when I shop for shoes, I try on quite a few pairs before I make a purchase. If the shoe fits and feels so comfortable that I can barely tell I have a shoe on, I’ll buy it. But, if the shoe is too short, too wide or too big, I won’t buy it. When buying shoes, it’s the fit, not the fashion that counts for me.

Thinking about the pairs of shoes I own, I counted 19 different pairs. I have shoes and boots for all weather and all occasions including; snow boots, dress boots, rain boots, biking and hiking shoes. Some of these shoes I’ve owned for a long time because if I get rid of them, I may never be able to replace them. 

Having shoes that fit my feet is a lot like having a faith that fits. 

As a kid, I believed what my parents told me about God and surmised that God lived very far away, that if I angered him he’d throw a ball of fire down upon me. God was Someone I had to please by doing stuff like going to confession, going to Mass, taking communion, giving up stuff during lent and praying the rosary. I was actually getting along okay with God and all that I had to do until my Dad ended his life. Then, God no longer made any sense to me. Consequently, like an uncomfortable pair of shoes, I disregarded God.

Like a teenager on a shopping spree, I tried on some things to make me forget how displaced I felt without Dad; alcohol, drugs, hard work, education and pseudo self-confidence. Finally, coming to the end of my “shopping spree,” I sat in my yard near a lake contemplating bringing my life to an end. It seemed like the best and the only option.

Instead of ending my life though, God showed up in a way that I could not disregard. Consequently, I agreed with his assessment of my life and that I was in need of what I could not give or find for myself; deliverance from my self-destruction, a sense of safety and acceptance, healing along with having a sound mind.  

My faith is like having a pair of well fitting shoes on my feet. My faith keeps me steady when walking along narrow rocky precipices. My faith allows me to move forward even when I am slogging through deep mud and no matter the terrain, the faith I wear accommodates and adapts to whatever I encounter. 

Why Bother?

Why bother making sure your faith fits? You want to make sure your faith fits because like a good pair of shoes, you want it to carry you safely through whatever terrain you are walking.

P.S.  I wrote the story of my journey to forgiveness for those who, like me, know they need to change, but are not quite sure where to start. You can find A Heart’s Journey To Forgiveness at Redemption Press and Amazon.