Barefoot Communion

Last night we had our last summer 505 church service outside on the lawn. The weather was absolutely perfect. The sun was low in the sky, the breeze was light, the temperature was just right - not too warm, not too cool. As I listened to Becca's sermon, I heard the small, quiet voice in my mind say, "remove your shoes, you are standing on holy ground."

Taking off my shoes sounded like a super idea. In general, I think people should be barefoot on the grass. The grass just seems to draw us to take off our shoes. Maybe it goes back to childhood, maybe back to our ancestors who traveled across the landscape without shoes. But our feet were made to touch the ground. When I took off my sandals, the grass was cool and prickly. I felt free, and a little bit naughty, this was a church service after all and I was breaking the dress code.

For a moment I thought about how spiritual it would be serve communion later in the service in bare feet. It felt right. It felt holy and sacred and perfect. Removing the shoes that separate me from the ground, that protect me from things that might hurt, that comfort me from pain and provide support, that cover the not-so-pretty parts. I wanted to shed all those barriers and just meet the Holy in my bare feet on the grass and feel God's green earth under my feet. I wanted to stand up there breaking bread (and the dress code), serving communion, and experience that sacred ritual a new way.

But my inner critic spoke up and asked what that would look like to the observer, and how I would be judged? I looked down at my 48 year old feet, the bunions, the slightly red, raised calluses from years of rubbing the insides of shoes, the DIY toenail paint job, and then I replaced my sandals.

I regret that now.

I want to know people authentically and to be known authentically myself. I want to worship authentically, and be able to authentically offer communion - even in my bare feet. Yet I was more concerned about the judgment of others (during Communion of all times!), and the appearances of having my shoes off - as if that would somehow communicate that I was making the sacred less so by being barefoot when actually the opposite would have occurred. It is clear that I need to diminish the voice of my inner critic and amplify the small, quiet voice of the Holy Spirit.

I've learned my lesson; I know better now.

Next time I have the chance, I will serve Barefoot Communion and it will be spectacular!