"When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. 'Do you understand what I have done for you?' he asked them. 'You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet.'" John 13:12-14
Not until I moved to Romania have I realized the huge deal washing feet can be. I've had my feet washed by several people over the years . . . folks in San Diego, the Seniors at Bryan, my wonderful boyfriend, and others than wanted to make sure I knew that those who lead need to serve.
Every morning, I have to muster up the strength to go through the hassle of getting ready, for I know that wherever we go, I'll be tired and sweaty whenever we get there. It takes practically half a day to get anything, and by the time we're done, my feet simply ache. Especially while my parents and I were in Rome, the evening brought tired, dirty feet (and a beautiful twilight!). But the next morning, I would have plenty of strength to walk through the city again.
In the first century world, the sojourner's tired feet would be the first thing to discourage a person from making a long trip. But my King stands ready at the end of my journey, waiting with towel in hand, for us to come and rest before him. That makes the pain in my feet a much smaller issue than my fallen spirit would naturally make it seem.
Not until I moved to Romania have I realized the huge deal washing feet can be. I've had my feet washed by several people over the years . . . folks in San Diego, the Seniors at Bryan, my wonderful boyfriend, and others than wanted to make sure I knew that those who lead need to serve.
Every morning, I have to muster up the strength to go through the hassle of getting ready, for I know that wherever we go, I'll be tired and sweaty whenever we get there. It takes practically half a day to get anything, and by the time we're done, my feet simply ache. Especially while my parents and I were in Rome, the evening brought tired, dirty feet (and a beautiful twilight!). But the next morning, I would have plenty of strength to walk through the city again.
In the first century world, the sojourner's tired feet would be the first thing to discourage a person from making a long trip. But my King stands ready at the end of my journey, waiting with towel in hand, for us to come and rest before him. That makes the pain in my feet a much smaller issue than my fallen spirit would naturally make it seem.
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