Fake Snakeskin Boots

As I get older, I find myself looking back down roads I’ve already traveled. And like a lot of folks, sometimes I catch myself thinking things were just better years ago. You hear people say, “We need to get back to the old days, when life was simpler. Folks raised their own food, worked with their hands, and didn’t have all these modern distractions.”

I was talking to an older gentleman one day and mentioned that to him. He laughed and said, “The only people wanting to go back to the good old days are people who didn’t have to live in them.” Then he said, “I’ll take running water, indoor plumbing, a grocery store, a light switch, and a heat pump any day.” Fair point.

But all that looking backward reminded me of something from my high school days. When I was in high school, I decided I needed a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots. Not wanted. Needed. There are certain things a teenage boy becomes convinced are absolutely necessary to his survival, and apparently snakeskin boots were mine.

I started working on Mom and Dad before Christmas. They weren’t nearly as excited about this investment as I was. Their argument was that I was hard on shoes. I was pigeon-toed enough that I could wear the toes off a pair of shoes before the new-shoe smell was gone. They said, “We’re not spending two hundred dollars on cowboy boots you may wear twice.”

But I kept after them. My basic argument was the same one Samson used in Judges 14:3: “Get her for me; for she pleaseth me well.” Except mine was, “Get them for me, because they look good to me.” Maybe not the best biblical example, but I was young.

Finally Christmas morning came, and there under the tree was a boot-sized box. I tore into it, and there they were. Black uppers. Gray snakeskin-looking bottoms. Beautiful. I was thrilled.

Then I ran my hand across the snakeskin. Smooth. Too smooth. I looked at my parents and said, “These are fake.” And that is when my parents told what I will graciously refer to as a therapeutic lie.

“They’re not fake. They’re coated.”

“Coated?”

“Yes. They put a coating over the snakeskin so the scales won’t come off. Those other snakeskin boots would be ruined after you wore them a couple times. These will last longer.”

Well, wasn’t that thoughtful? I figured these technologically advanced, coated snakeskin boots probably cost more than regular snakeskin.

I loved those boots. All through Christmas break I wore them every chance I got. I strutted around the house like a woodcock in mating season.

Then Christmas break ended. First day back to school, I had the whole outfit laid out. Bugle Boy jeans. Cliff Huxtable sweater. And my genuine, scientifically coated, gray snakeskin cowboy boots. I’m not one to toot my own horn, but... Toot. Toot.

I walked into school feeling pretty good about myself. Everything went fine until lunch. We were standing around the gym when one of my buddies looked down at my boots.

He said, “I’ve got a pair of those.”

I smiled. A fellow man of culture.

Then he said, “I don’t wear mine much because they’re fake.”

Fake?

I said, “No, these are real. They’re coated so the snakeskin doesn’t peel off.”

He started laughing. “Coated? They ain’t coated. I’ve got the exact same boots. That snakeskin is basically drawn on there.”

And just like that, my beautiful boots changed. Same boots. Same black uppers. Same gray lowers. Same feet inside them. But suddenly I hated them. All I could think was, “Everybody is going to know I’m walking around in fake snakeskin boots.” In my teenage mind, this wasn't just embarrassing. This could follow me for life.

I survived the day and went home ready to confront my parents over this terrible injustice. I explained what had happened. Their sympathy was overwhelming. They basically said, “Yesterday you loved those boots. You’ve strutted around this house all Christmas talking about how good you looked in them. They’re the exact same boots today. We’re not buying you another pair. We ain’t the Rockefellers. Deal with it.”

And they were right. But I hardly wore those boots again.

Looking back now, there’s a lesson in those fake snakeskin boots that took me a long time to understand. Nothing about the boots changed. Somebody’s opinion of them changed my opinion of them.

And if we’re not careful, we can live our whole lives that way. One day we enjoy something. We’re thankful for it. We’re perfectly content. Then somebody laughs at it. Somebody criticizes it. Somebody gets something better. Some group decides people like us aren’t supposed to like that. And suddenly we don’t like what we liked yesterday.

That pressure isn’t new. King Saul struggled with it thousands of years ago. In 1 Samuel 13, Saul was waiting on Samuel to come and offer the sacrifice. Samuel didn’t arrive when Saul thought he should, the people were beginning to scatter, and Saul panicked. So Saul did what he knew he wasn’t supposed to do.

When Samuel confronted him, Saul explained: “I saw that the people were scattering from me...” 1 Samuel 13:11

There was Saul’s problem. He was watching the people.

Later, Saul admitted it even more plainly: “I have sinned... because I feared the people and obeyed their voice.” 1 Samuel 15:24

Saul was the king, but he was allowing the crowd to rule him. The Bible warns us: “The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.” Proverbs 29:25

We talk about being addicted to all kinds of things, but one of the easiest addictions to develop is an addiction to approval. Do they like me? Do they approve of me? Am I wearing the right thing? Driving the right thing? Living in the right house? Doing what somebody my age is supposed to do? Will people think I’m strange if I enjoy this? Will they criticize me if I stand for that? Before long, we aren’t really living our own lives. We’re taking a daily public-opinion poll.

Peter even fell into that trap. Galatians 2 tells us he had been freely eating with Gentile believers, but when a certain group showed up, Peter pulled away because he was afraid of what they would think. Same Peter. Same Gentile believers. Same truth. Different crowd. And suddenly Peter acted differently.

That’s what the fear of man does. But there is tremendous freedom in knowing who you are in Christ. When my identity is settled in Him, I don’t have to change every time somebody changes their opinion of me. I don’t have to impress everybody. I don’t have to fit into every crowd. I don’t have to pretend to dislike something I enjoy just because somebody else thinks it’s silly.

And most importantly, I never have to compromise what God says is right just to keep somebody else happy. Paul put it plainly: “For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God?... If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.” Galatians 1:10

I heard somebody say years ago that when we’re young, we worry about what everybody thinks about us. Then when we get older, we finally realize something: They weren’t thinking about us nearly as much as we thought they were.

There’s some freedom in that.

So enjoy what God has given you. Be who God made you to be. Stand on what God has said. Love people, treat them right, listen to wise counsel, and be humble enough to accept correction. But don’t spend your life trapped by the need for everybody’s approval. Because if pleasing people becomes more important than pleasing God, sooner or later you’ll trade obedience for acceptance.

And you might even throw a perfectly good pair of boots in the back of the closet.

Looking back, I wish I’d kept wearing mine. Fake snakeskin and all. They looked pretty sharp before somebody told me they didn’t.

And truth be told... with those Bugle Boy jeans and that Cliff Huxtable sweater?

Toot. Toot.