Bloody Footprints!
by Vicki Campbell

Footprints are evidence that we’ve been in a certain place. When Bill was a young boy, the circus animals broke loose in his home town of Peru, Indiana. Later that night, they heard loud noises outside of their house in the country. When they got up the next morning and looked outside, there were elephant footprints all over their yard. There was no denying that an elephant had visited them the night before.

Many of you have seen little children trying to step in their daddy’s footprints that he may have left in the sand or the snow. Maybe you’ve even done it yourself. Sometimes, they’ll even put his much-too-big shoes on to make it seem more real. They have a desire to be like him and to do what he has done. Somehow, it makes them feel closer to him to stand where he stood. I know you’ve heard the phrase, “He’s walking in his father’s footsteps.” In other words, he’s like his father, or he’s doing what his father did.

At times, people will want to make a more permanent statement of their existence by stepping into wet concrete. Recently, I watched an old I Love Lucy rerun where Lucy stole John Wayne’s cemented footprints. They were valuable to her because, even though he wasn’t with her, they were something that belonged to him and it made her feel close to him.

Many people go to the Holy Land because they want to walk where Jesus actually walked while he was here on earth. Someday I hope to do the same thing. There’s something about walking down the same street where we know Jesus walked and healed the sick. That point of contact binds us in a great way and produces a supernatural closeness to Him. Many times, this is a life-changing event, and we’ll never be the same.

About twelve years ago, I was privileged to visit my sister, who was living in Poland. Needless to say, I was excited about seeing her. Not only that, but I was also excited about going to Europe and even visiting some of the concentration camps used during the Holocaust. It turned out to be an experience I’ll never forget that has forever changed my life.

While at Majdanek Concentration Camp, I walked up several steps to a covered mausoleum where I viewed a hill ,about the diameter of a baseball infield, filled with human ashes. I walked through the very same gas chambers that killed thousands of human lives. The oven doors were left open where they had burned the bodies, with human ashes still inside. I can still see the dissecting room, which contained a concrete table with a hole in the middle of it. This hole was directly over a drain in the concrete floor beneath it for blood to drain into.

This was where the gassed victims were examined before going into the ovens. The guards would be looking for and removing gold fillings, as well as cutting the stomachs open looking for valuables that may have been swallowed. The blood was splattered everywhere, even though it had been years ago. Their blood was crying out as evidence that they had been there. It is a permanent memorial of their lives. All of these visible reminders gave me a connection to these people, who I had never met, yet felt like I knew.

This summer I was privileged to visit the Holy Land Experience in Orlando. The first thing we did was to watch an outdoor drama of the Passion. It was very moving and realistic. When they tied Jesus to the whipping post and began to beat him, the blood poured from his body, dripping down to his feet. They cast the cross upon his back for him to parade the streets on his way to Golgotha. Tears streamed down my face as I imagined my Savior suffering all of this just for me.

Bill and I joined the crowd leaving the small amphitheater, walking down the stone street toward the next exhibit. As I just happened to glance down, I thought my heart was about to jump out of my chest. I was walking in the bloody footprints where Jesus had walked only minutes before carrying his cross.

Words can’t begin to describe what I felt. Jesus was there; I could feel him. I felt like I was actually there the day he was crucified. As I stepped into his bloody footprints, I saw evidence that he was here. Evidence that will last through all eternity. His blood was crying out to me: I did this for you. You’ll never be the same since my blood has touched you. My blood saves you, cleanses you, heals you, and covers you. We are connected. You are mine!

God did this for me! There’s nothing like walking in the footsteps of Jesus. I want to be like him. I want to do what he did. When I walk in his footsteps, I feel closer to him. There is a divine connection that can never separate us. Thank you, Lord!!

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