Footprints in Time

FOOTPRINTS IN TIME
A Monologue
by James R. Adams
(c) 1988 by Sheer Joy! Press

So many miles we traveled.

Dust-covered trails which we had to make ourselves...because no one
had ever walked in any of those places before He came.

Out of the way places.

Forbidden places.

Busy places.

Quiet places.

Hidden places.

Angry places.

Happy places...

...And so many, many times...lonely places.

On and on we walked, strapped to the tired, aching feet of the man,
Jesus.

Oh, so many, many miles.

There are stories to be told, you know. Hundreds of them
actually...so, needless to say, we cannot relate them all today.

'Twould take a lifetime, of course, to mention every mile. But, be
assured, every mile of it would hold you spellbound ...

But, there are a few stories that must be shared. It would be sad not
to be able to share some of the miles...some of the more delightful
times...before...before the lonely, sad end came.

Only a few straps barely woven together and presented as a parting
gift to a man who had been kind enough to share some time with Martha
and Mary...that's what we were. Yet, the sandals were welcomed by this
Jesus, for he had far to travel and little would protect his feet
better than sandals made with love and compassion.

Thus, in the last year of this strange man's life, we were his
constant companions upon the sands of time, so to speak...walking every
step of the way with him!

Some there are today who would envy us...walking with such a famous
man; but they do not have the stories carved into their minds
either...the end-time stories.

But, please...allow us to share happy times with you.

For instance, there were the miles walked over the country hillsides
of Damascus and Galilee...watching the children from atop a knell as
Jesus toyed with a twig of wheat he had plucked from a golden
field.

Resting his weary feet, he would remove us and set us gently aside and
allow his toes to burrow into the soft, cool grass...and he would laugh
along with the children at play, as if he were down in the village with
them. Oh, how he loved the children!

Or...how about the glorious times we were splashed with the ice-cold
waters of the gorgeous Jordan River?

There he played with the children directly, as was his manner. I can
recall him lifting a young boy high into the air and tickling him until
he laughed so loudly that bunches of other youngsters gathered about
him...begging him to splash and play with them as well. ...And, of
course...he did!

Why, we were getting soaked through and through, yet, he just plopped
himself down alongside the bank and hung his feet (with us well
intact!) into the water's edge. My, how the children loved him!

Oh and there was the time when he was called to come to a centurion's
house!

Well, actually, he was not even asked to go, but just to speak some
words! Some faith that man had, to be sure...but, Jesus bound us about
his feet and we traveled quite a long, hard road.

When we arrived where the centurion's home was located, though, we
were met with the words that the young girl -- the centurion's daughter
-- had already died!

Well, it was a sad occasion there for a moment; but, we just entered
into the room, Jesus shut the door...and, would you be able to believe
this? Jesus just took her by the hand and spoke to her as if he had not
seen her in ages, and...

To tell you the truth, it just broke up the whole house when she
leaped from her bed and began to wait on everybody!

Oh, we have traveled to some wonderful places with this man!

And, my, how people loved him!

We must share with you the time that we witnessed one of "those" kinds
of women! I mean, one taken in adultery is the way she was described to
Jesus.

With a massive crowd of angry men around him he took the pretty, young
girl and sat her in the midst of a circle of her accusers
and...squatting down, he toyed in the dirt for a moment...scribbling
something...

His quick movements cast some of the sand onto us; yet we, of course,
could not read what he had written.

Nonetheless, the bold accusations suddenly hushed and Jesus spoke with
a commanding, yet gentle voice. "Let him who is without sin cast the
first stone!"

Then, he stood and stretched us a bit.

Looking at the girl who was weeping softly, he said, "Go thy way...and
sin no more."

And, quite proudly, we walked away from the scene. My, how he loved
people!

Of course, there were lonely scenes as well, as I have said.

Gethsemane -- a small, but absolutely breathtaking and beautiful
garden -- was such a place of loneliness for him. His heart was broken
for he had received some news that had upset him. His friends had
turned from him. His name was being mocked and shamed at every corner
by people who refused to understand him or his mission.

Even his disciples -- who all seemed to love him so -- had fallen to
sleep as he prayed in the garden. He was so alone.

He prayed so hard that blood oozed from his brow.

It was terrible, and we knew something awful was going to
happen...soon.

Having finished his agonizing prayer, his feet took us to the entrance
of the garden again. There, his friend, Judas Iscariot, met him and
kissed his cheek.

Yes, his closest associates loved him so!

Love blossomed everywhere Jesus went ... or so it seemed. Of course,
you must know that not everything is always as it seems.

There were those who hated Jesus. We never knew why. But ... we do
know...they finally...

How well we remember our last day with Jesus.

Long before dawn, we had witnessed him praying. He had been taken by
the centurion to the "hall of justice'' and stood before Pilate. He had
been beaten and spat upon, and was becoming weaker and weaker as blood
flowed from gaping wounds in his back.

He had been tried, convicted of we knew not what.

He had been forced to bear up under a tremendously heavy wooden cross
beam, dragging it up a lonely hill called Golgotha.

The sand had filled us time and time again as he had fallen to the
ground and the road was hot and thick with sharp, tearing stones.

His feet were bleeding.

His heart was breaking.

Jesus staggered along that road, pressing hard against us as the
weight of the cross forced him to the ground several times. Mercifully,
a black man stepped in to help him carry the cross.

It was when we reached the top of Golgotha -- the place of a skull --
that the real nightmare began.

Massive spikes were hammered through his wrists, impaling him upon the
crossbeam as if he were no more that a cattle brace to be thrown
against a wall. Then. ..

The Roman guard selected a final rusty spike.

With rough, callused hands they tore at us savagely, not taking the
time to loosen our straps from around the feet and ankles of
Jesus.

Angrily, they forced both of us from his gnarled and bleeding feet. We
were slung to one side...abandoned...forgotten.

Yet, from the sidelines of this horror, we watched the hellish command
of the hammer as it struck its target...the feet of Jesus!

Feet that had been swift only to serve people.

Feet that had walked hundreds of miles in order to bring life to the
lifeless, health to those who were sick and hope...yes, hope...to those
who dared have hoped no more. Yes, we watched...we heard.

The resounding strike of the hammer against the spikes...the tearing of
the flesh...the splintering of bone...the laughter of the
soldiers...the gasp from the lips of the woman he called his mother and
disciples who trembled in fear nearby...

Then, too, there was the darkness...the screams in the thick
blackness...the storms...the silver-tongued lightning...the enormous
roar of thunder...a deafening ripping sound as if the sky had been rent
in twain...

There was the rain...the echoing screams of women and children...the
crushing hollow sound of grown men groaning as if tortured...

The heavens resounded with noises unheard of before in the annals of
history...

All of it.

We saw it all.

So, you see, though the time spent upon the feet of Jesus was much joy
and happiness...it ended tragically. If, indeed, it has ended at
all...

We had been literally torn from his feet and cast aside. Broken,
useless sandals... ...and, yet, three days later...on a brisk,
summer-like morning, there was a sudden surge of life within us as a
man knelt to pick us up.

As his hand touched us, we were instantly mended...new, strong, woven
again as if never broken...

...And, once again upon strong feet...we walked toward
Emmaus...undaunted ... proud...again.