A Stunned Assembly

While His followers continued to eat and talk among themselves, Jesus rose from the cushions and crossed the room to a basin of water and a white cloth. The cloth He tied around His waist, knotting it securely at the back. The basin He carried to one of His friends; then He stooped at his feet and waited for permission to begin.

A hush fell over the room. The men's faces showed dismay, disbelief, embarrassment, or shock. Each man looked questioningly at the others, no one knowing what to think or say. The man they knew was God was asking to wash their feet as if He were a common houseboy.

In that atmosphere of bewilderment, Jesus gently but firmly scrubbed away the layers of grime. As He moved from man to man, the gleaming white towel turned brown.

Peter watched with horror as Jesus stooped on the floor before him. All that was in him cried that this should not happen.

Why should Jesus be stained by the dirt Peter had walked through that day? Jesus was God, high and exalted, the ruler of the universe and the fulfillment of all prophecy, not a lowly servant required to wash feet. So an astonished Peter hastily said no.

No one knew Peter's fervent, still imperfect love better than Jesus did. So He said, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me" (Jn. 13:8). To which He received the impassioned reply, "Then, Lord, ... not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!" (v. 9).

These things are easily seen, but there's more.

                                                          Daily Dirt

By his belief in Jesus, Peter was on his way to being made clean spiritually. This is why Jesus said to him, "A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet" (v. 10). The rest of Peter remained clean, but his feet still needed a bath from walking through his daily life.

Jesus cleansed my heart years ago, but my feet still take me where it can get pretty dirty. Just today, I stepped in a huge puddle of frustration when my neighbor again acted like my neighbor. I'm aware that my urge to hurl a brick in retaliation is not a godly desire. It is just one more bit of everyday dirt that must be removed so I can walk clean with Jesus.

My feet have become soiled by trudging through swamps of anger, resentment, and bitterness. They are splattered with the muck of indifference to other people's pain and the rationalization of my inaction. I have sunk to my knees in the quicksand of self-pity, afraid I could never get out. These callused feet are dirty, cracked, and painful, and their stench is enough to make my eyes water. I am mortified that Jesus should even see them this way. My first reaction is like Peter's. I, too, wail, "Oh, Lord, I can't have You wash my feet!" I find myself wanting to warn Jesus, to talk Him out of it, as though He does not know what He is doing. Can He truly realize what I walk through?

Even so, Jesus assures me that He genuinely wants to cleanse my feet. He is not ashamed of me. He sees where my feet have been and why. He sees where they have yet to go. He sees their ultimate destination. Though He knows better than anyone all I have walked through, yet He kneels before me and asks permission to wash my feet.

His humility is contagious. I am amazed by His matchless love for me, demonstrated in this very practical overflowing of grace and healing.

Oh, yes, Lord! Please wash my feet!