May I…

May I wash your feet?

It’s a little personal. And yet, Jesus set out to do just that when He met with His disciples for the Last Supper.

Foot washing is a little risky for both of parties. It’s making ourselves a little vulnerable— both for the one doing the task and for the one receiving it.

I try to get a pedicure once or twice a year, but it’s been a few years. And so, I am not sure if the person doing the job will judge me for not “taking care of business in a timely manner.” I have so many reasons for not being there and they are all reasonable.

I don’t believe a pedicure and a foot washing with an intention to serve are the same thing at all, but they can invoke similar thoughts and emotions.

I appreciate my feet and all they do for me. Sometimes my feet are filthy—and they would have been especially dirty during Jesus’ time with all the sand and sandals and dusty roads. Even so, Jesus washed the feet of the disciples. He didn’t expect them to get them in shape before He did the task. He took each foot — dirt, callouses, bunions, and all.

And He takes each of us — sin, selfishness, despair, grief, anger, and all.

Lord Jesus, wash away all the ugliness of my sin. Help me to accept the work You are doing on my behalf. Renew that right spirit within me. Grant me your perfect peace. Amen.

What is left to do?

Flowers w

Jesus, the spotless lamb, is the author and perfecter of our faith.

He took our guilt and shame.

He suffered on our behalf.

He endured death on a cross.

And on the third day He rose again.

He gave His life for ours.

And our response?

We can live, love, forgive, serve, and proclaim His name to all the nations.

We can defend those who have no defenses.

We can stand up for those who cannot speak for themselves.

We can love the unloveable.

We can touch the untouchable.

So much of this can happen right in our own community, right where we live.

He is risen!

For you and me!

Let’s respond to His grace!

On the way,

Liz