There were several booths set up along the side of the market with huge stacks of tires- yes, the tires from automobiles. All different sizes and shapes and brands. We watched intently as men would sit on the ground or a wooden table and cut a strip of rubber from a tire. They would then cut out the shape for the bottom of a shoe, making different sizes for children, men, women, even custom sizes if you asked for it. They would attach "straps" to the sole with nails and sell them for about 3000 shillings, about $1.20. We were all so impressed by the uniqueness of the shoes and excited to buy a pair a a souvenir or gift for a friend. We were talking amongst ourselves, "How cool!", "I want to buy some to hang on the wall!"", "Wow, what an awesome idea for shoes!" We were fascinated, myself included.
But as we stood there watching, some waiting to buy a pair, I began to realize something. These shoes- they aren't just a souvenir. They aren't made for Americans to buy and bring home to look at. They weren't made with the intention of being unique or fashionable or comfortable. These shoes, made out of car tires, are made and sold, for what we would consider extra change, to people who can't afford anything better. They are literally made from thin rubber and nails and then worn day-in and day-out until they fall apart and can't, in any way, be repaired. This isn't some fashion trend for these people. This is their life. This is their reality.
As we were leaving, still oooh-ing and aaah-ing over this new thing, Mrs. Holley, one of the missionaries with us, told us to look around when we are out in town or at the ministry land and we would see that most of the people in Gulu wear tire shoes. So I did. I looked around. And as promised, I saw feet shod with tires everywhere we went. I noticed something- most of the feet that wore these shoes were not physically beautiful. They were dry, dirty, cracked, wounded. Wearing shoes made out of nothing but tires and nails, how could they not be? But despite their physical appearance, I noticed something else- these feet were beautiful, not because of how they looked, but because of the heart of the person they belonged to.
I saw people at church, jumping and singing and dancing and shouting, pouring sweat, in worship and praise to the Lord in these shoes.
I saw children laughing and listening and answering questions in Sunday school in these shoes.
I saw women conversing with each other, making jewelry out of strips of paper for a living in these shoes.
And all of these people had beautiful feet. Yes, physically not so pleasing to the eye. But beautiful, none-the-less, because of the blood those feet were cleansed with and the love of Christ that they showed.
But as we stood there watching, some waiting to buy a pair, I began to realize something. These shoes- they aren't just a souvenir. They aren't made for Americans to buy and bring home to look at. They weren't made with the intention of being unique or fashionable or comfortable. These shoes, made out of car tires, are made and sold, for what we would consider extra change, to people who can't afford anything better. They are literally made from thin rubber and nails and then worn day-in and day-out until they fall apart and can't, in any way, be repaired. This isn't some fashion trend for these people. This is their life. This is their reality.
I saw children laughing and listening and answering questions in Sunday school in these shoes.
I saw women conversing with each other, making jewelry out of strips of paper for a living in these shoes.
And all of these people had beautiful feet. Yes, physically not so pleasing to the eye. But beautiful, none-the-less, because of the blood those feet were cleansed with and the love of Christ that they showed.
And that's what beautiful feet are all about:
"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger who brings good news, the good news of peace and salvation, the news that the God of Israel reigns!"
Isaiah 52:7
And sometimes, these beautiful feet wear tire shoes.