How beautiful on the mountains are the feet
of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!”
As I enter the elevator, I stand next to her. The petite woman in the corner wearing blue running pants, identification tag around her neck with the words Olympic athlete dangling at her waist. She braces herself against the hand rail, looks down at her bloody, bare feet. And we notice she is holding her breathe in pain.
She just ran a marathon.
Not just any marathon.
Twenty six miles to qualify for the Olympics.
And those of us rising between floors in those few seconds in the elevator, we rejoice in the victory of the feet that carried her to this place. Ask her how she did in the race.
Through a slanted smile she admits she didn’t do her best. Rattles off her time in minutes, looks down shy.
So we ask if we can pray for her feet in those few seconds between floors, for the pain with the tight fisted hold to let go and she agrees. Exhales what translates relief for this gesture.
And in that small space huddled together quiet, before the door slides open, I embrace her arm gentle and we invite the presence of God. Ask him to heal her feet, provide comfort.
When the door slides open on her floor she thanks us, hobbles off the elevator slow. And I think about the beauty of those bloody feet in the elevator.
How they remind me of Jesus feet hanging on the cross for me and you. That life sometimes feels like a marathon too long to conquer. And when we think we can’t go on, take another step, He meets at just the right time, provides all we need for the journey.
Even on an elevator among strangers.
Wherever your weekend plans take you friends; may you declare the glory of Christ every step of the way.