The Lighthouse and Feet

     Not much to look at. For a lighthouse you’d expect much more. After all, every January calendars full of scenic structures surrounded by the ocean or vast lakes beg to be posted on refrigerators and office walls. This one wouldn’t have made the top twelve lighthouses. At least not up close. Rust seeped out through the white paint, making the beacon look sad and tired. It cried out for Rustoleum and elbow grease.
     Sometimes I feel the same about myself. As the years creep by, I’ve changed. Body parts don’t quite look the same. Veins, spots, some shifting here, some wrinkling there. It’s all very disconcerting, especially when I sometimes find myself around young adults who are the age of my children.  Where did the time go? Could I get some Rustoleum? Would a little elbow grease help me, too?

   

     Have you ever noticed the proliferation of nail salons? Honestly, I thought they were a fad and eventually they’d run their course. I was wrong. If anything they’ve popped up everywhere. Can I be frank? I’ve gotten a professional manicure once in my life. I’ve thought about going since then but never have. Now a pedicure could possibly entice me. I tend to think that feet are rather ugly in general. They seem to me to be one of the more humble parts of our body. I’m not particularly fond of mine except for the fact that they function. But I do like to wear sandals and, as the old saying goes, “If the barn needs paint, paint it.” A little paint on my humble feet helps them out.

     The lighthouse and my feet are alike. When it was nearly dark on our last evening on vacation we drove down to the lake. Night almost upon the lake, the beam from the lighthouse flashed. Light, darkness, light, darkness. You know something? I couldn’t see a speck of rust on that old lighthouse. All I saw was that saving light. All that mattered to anyone sailing close was the light. The rust was inconsequential.

     My humble feet and all of my other imperfections and reminders of age are of little consequence. What is important for me and for anyone who names of the name of Christ is to speak and live the message. The light that shines in the darkness is what is important, not the rust of the light itself. When that lighthouse saves someone’s life or the cargo of a ship, it becomes a beautiful lighthouse. When you and I share the Truth we become beautiful. So how beautiful are your feet these days?

How beautiful . . .are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation . . . . (Isaiah 52:7, NIV)