Old Shoes Clouted

"And old shoes and clouted upon their feet." JOSH. ix. 5.

If we had seen these men of Gibeon, with these old mended shoes on their feet, we should have said, "They have come so far that they have worn out their shoes on the road, and had to mend — clout — them!" And that is just the impression they wanted to make on Joshua and his people. The story is a very funny one.

Joshua had just begun his march into the Promised Land. He had taken two large cities and been most victorious. When the kings beyond Jordan heard of Joshua's successes, they gathered themselves together to fight. There were six kings with their armies. But the men of Gibeon thought they would try another plan. Rather than fight, they would get Joshua to make a covenant with them. To do this they must make him believe that they lived a long way off. And so they put old sacks on their asses, took wine-skins old and rent, old clothes, dry and mouldy bread, and old shoes and clouted.

Joshua was very suspicious of them, and said, But perhaps you dwell among us; how shall we make a covenant with you?

And then they said all kinds of plausible things, and, pointing to their condition, said that they had taken their bread hot, and now it was dry and mouldy; their wine-skins were new, but now rent; and "our garments and our shoes are become old by reason of the very long journey."

Joshua said nothing to God about it, and made a covenant with them. Then at the end of three days he discovered the deception, and made them slaves for ever, to hew wood and to draw water for the house of God.

Boys and girls, never wear old shoes and clouted, to make believe.

All the lies do not come from the tongue: we may act a lie just as surely and easily as tell one, and we are as really liars when we do.

I knew a wood-seller who always carried two bundles of sticks, and said when he came to the door, " These are the last I have." But all the time he had a big sackful at the end of the street. That was "old shoes and clouted."

A boy asked a friend of mine for a penny, the exact sum he needed to buy a bat. So it was when he left home, but he asked twenty people for that penny, and got it.

A boy smoking sees his father coming: out comes the pipe, and into his pocket, and he meets his father as if he loved him, and were really the boy the father thinks him to be.

All this is like old shoes and clouted on our feet. Whenever we are pretending to be what we are not, or to be doing what we are not really doing, we are acting like these men of Gibeon.

Let me give four reasons why we should not make believe.

1. It is mean.

The schoolboy does not like to be called a sneak. He would far rather suffer a thrashing, or bear false blame. To make believe is sneaking. It is degrading both to ourselves and in the sight of others, and very unfair. If we are once found out, no one will trust us.

Aristotle, one of the great philosophers, was once asked what a man could gain by telling a lie, and he replied, "Never to be credited when he speaks the truth."

You may be sure that Joshua and his people would be pretty wary about the men of Gibeon, after their trick.

One of the saddest things that can befall us is to get the character of a deceiver, and therefore not to be trusted.

2. It will out.

Only three days, and their deception was discovered. Just a chance report came to Joshua that they had not come from a long distance, but were his neighbours and dwelt near to him. They had managed everything cleverly thus far, and then some person, unknown and unsuspected, "tells."

Yes, we can't hide much. In most strange and unexpected ways people find out when our old shoes are not genuine. Remember Gehazi. The wealthy Syrian captain was cured of his leprosy through Elisha, and pressed the man of God to receive a present. This he stoutly declined. Gehazi saw the Syrian go away with his treasures and chariots, and was greatly disappointed.

So, on the pretense that two young men had unexpectedly come from the hills, and his master would be glad of something for them, he ran after the "rich stranger" and asked for a talent of silver, and two changes of raiment.

Naaman gave him one talent more than he asked, and sent two servants to carry the present. This very much increased Gehazi's difficulty, lest his master should see these servants. So when they got to the hill, just before the house came into view he let them go, and he hid the present in some secret place; then he went over the brow of the hill, into the house, and stood before his master as if nothing had happened. How great his surprise when he found that all was known! Even the hill and his cleverness had not prevented the master knowing. "And he went out from his presence a leper as white as snow."

We shall be found out sooner or later.

3. We know, if no one else does.

A little girl in her Sunday school repeated the 23rd Psalm. A visitor who was present was so pleased with the way in which she did it, that he gave her a shilling. Great was the child's joy over the shilling, all her own. The visitor noticed this, and, guessing that she would spend it as soon as she could, said to her, " I see a great many shops open, though it is God's day. You must on no account spend that coin in any of them to-day, but keep it till to-morrow. You understand, I won't be present to see you, but there is One who will see you, and find out at once if you break the Sabbath day." The child was silent, her dark, thoughtful eye was turned up to the speaker's face as if she knew what he meant, and had taken it all in.

"Who will see you?" he asked, thinking he knew quite well what she would answer. "Myself Will See Me," was her unexpected, but splendid reply. "Myself will see me." Do you think that would matter? Yes, very much indeed. It is terrible to hate oneself, to despise oneself, because—though no one else knows —we know that we have done mean and wicked things.

And, boys and girls, it comes to that sooner or later. We can bear the hate of others, if we know that we have done right, but the very love of our friends becomes a burden to us when we know that we have done wrong. The good opinion other people form of us is like a poisoned arrow when we know that we have deceived them. Don't make an enemy of yourself by wearing old shoes and clouted to make believe.

4. God knows.

When these men were getting together their old clothes, their rent bottles, their mouldy bread, and their old shoes, hoping, thinking, saying, "No one will know,"—someone knew.

When they inspected one another in their strange guise, and felt pleased with the effective display (for they looked just like men who had come off a very long journey), they did not remember that other eyes were there.

When they thought within themselves, "Surely we shall succeed; Joshua and his people won't find out," they forgot there was One who is "not mocked."

Brother and sister were carrying a basket of cakes to their grandmother. Nearly all children love cakes, and these two did. Presently they peeped through the half-open lid, to see what they were like. Then they opened it wide. Then they wondered what they would taste like, and they counted them carefully. "So many, we might eat one, just one, and no one will know. Perhaps mother didn't count them, and surely grandmother won't."

I rather think they would have eaten one, had not the sister asked a very awkward question—"Can't God count?" Down went the lid, and away the little folk ran to grandmother's.

Yes, that is it. God counts, and though no one else may know, and we "don't care," God knows, and to Him "lying lips are abomination," and so are lying feet.

When, then, you are tempted to act like these men with their old shoes, remember them and their fate, and be straight.

~Frederick B. Cowl, Digging Ditches: And Other Sermons to Boys and Girls