Lessons

The smell of lamb shanks hangs deliciously in the air.  Nathan reads a passage to the children, one on either side of him.  Jesus is washing the feet of his disciples; their dirty, stinky, filthy feet.  The feet that no one wanted to touch.  The feet that all of the disciples were “too good” to touch.  Because after all, that was a servant’s job.

And there is Jesus, the King of Heaven and Earth, stooping down in this servant role before his friends.  Here is the Master, the Teacher; everything that He does holds great significance.  Every moment is a teachable one.  His actions, on his knees in humility, mystify each student.  This act of selfless love, so unlike any they have ever seen, is the lesson that they must learn.  That they must model.  That they must live.  Because this act, unbeknownst to the small fellowship, is just a taste, simply a prelude, to the greatest act of selfless Love the world would ever know. 

As father reads, babes listen. I fill the small basin I have procured from beneath the kitchen sink.  And I listen.  I ponder this washing of feet preceding the carrying of the cross.  I am convicted.  How can I ever claim to be ready to lay down my life if I am not yet prepared to humble my heart, to embrace the worn and aching souls that have traversed the gritty ground between birth and eternity?  

The familiar story reminds me that there is something intimately related between the washing of feet and the crucifixion:  The humility of the heart.  The willingness to go to the very depths for the sake of Love, no matter the cost.  Am I prepared to walk that road, selfless and sacrificial?  I don’t know.  I want to say yes, rashly promising to follow Jesus anywhere, in any circumstance.  But then, so did the disciples of Jesus.  Before they truly understood what it meant to follow Him.  Before they truly understood what it meant to drink from His cup.  Before, in their fear, they left Him. 

Do I even truly understand?

Maybe I do not.  Not really, not in fullness.  But even the ones who abandoned Jesus returned; returned in strength.  Still not knowing fully, but more fully willing.  I do not want to offer hasty agreements.  I want to be moved by this offering of Love, this offering the disciples finally came to understand.  Came to embrace.  Came to live out.  As Jesus lived.  I want to offer a loyal promise of a love-sick bride who, not knowing every obstacle that will challenge her declaration of commitment, presses on towards devotion and presses into the Love to whom she is promised.

I am willing.  Patient Teacher, lead me down the path of selfless love that you have laid, that you have tread.  Show me what it means to endure because of the joy set before me.  Step by step, however slowly I may move, may I always be moving towards Love, towards You. 

I do not let guilt steal the moment.  I kneel before my son and, as the passage concludes with song, I follow the example of my Teacher.  As I wash, Nathan asks Caleb, “Why did Jesus wash the feet of His friends?”

Caleb answers, “Because they were dirty.  And because He loved them.”

“And do you know why mommy is washing your feet?”

“Because she loves me.”

And though there is still much to be gained from the passage, from this beautiful demonstration of servanthood and selflessness, the most basic, the most crucial element is grasped: LOVE.

“Mommy, can I wash your feet?”

I am caught off guard.  I want to say, “No, no, you don’t have to.  This is my gift to you.”  But then I only offer half of the lesson.  And I rob him of the joy of serving the one he loves.  I think of the woman who, with her very tears, washed Jesus’ feet.  So grateful for the grace that He extended towards her.  He did not stop her from expressing the deep gratitude that was welling up and spilling over from her heart.  He received the beauty of her gift to Him. 

Tears sting my eyes.  In his heart, my son is learning.  After all these years, I am still learning.  And, together, we partake in the alive-message that transcends and transforms. 

“Yes, my boy, you can.”

Adara has her turn, eager toes wiggling with excitement.  Then Caleb instructs me to sit and he tenderly wipes the cloth over my feet.  Adara, following brother’s lead, dries.

This is what Christ modeled.  That we would not only serve with Love, but that we would guide others on the path to do the same.  That we might model and teach and pass on this gift of Love.  And as I have received the gift from generations past, I now pass it onto my children.  The foundation of their hearts holding glimpses of the Kingdom.  Their spirits learning to live lives of Love. 

And the lesson, the gift, carries on.