The Washing of Feet
I obviously haven't written in this for a long time, mostly because I couldn't remember my username. So I decided to start writing in this regularly, not really sure what my intentions are, but hopefully it will benefit someone in the end, though I am not sure I want to share my thoughts with anybody at this point. I am very introverted with my faith right now, mostly because I want it to be real to me, not something that depends on the approval of others. It's just me and God right now, especially since the world is dang confusing. Even those closest to me: my small group here, my family, close Godly men and women- I am really thrown off by everybody right now, so I am finding my rest and peace in my Savior, and that's the way things are at this point. So anyway, I wrote this in my O-chem notebook as I studied, and I wanted to remember it- that's why I am writing it here (though that is no guarentee that I will ever read it again, I just feel compelled to write it again for some reason)...
Jesus washed the disciples' feet.
My feet are gross, to be quite honest. They are dirty, calloused, and unkept. I don't remember the last time I cut my toe-nails and pushed back my cuticles. After months of wearing flip-flops, my heels are cracked and dry, and are often punished in my improper study habits, as I pick at them subconsciously (or as Liz knows well, cutting at them with scissors- this I do consciously).
Hilary washed my feet once. I almost cried. If someone were to wash my feet right now, I would be horrified. I'd want to smooth my callouses, scrub off the old, dead skin, trim my nails, and maybe paint on a fresh coat of clear polish. Then I might let somebody wash my feet, but I would still be very hesitent.
Aren't we like that with Jesus? We cheapen grace by making ourselves feel worthy of the sacrifice. We pretty our lives up and get all religious, eventually reaching a point where our sufferings make us self-righteous and our pride makes us feel like we are easier for God to deal with. We clean our feet up before He gets to us with that wash basin, thinking that it's, one-easier for Jesus to touch us, and two- we don't feel so exposed or ashamed. The truth is that my feet still need to be cleaned just as badly by those precious, beautiful, humble hands.
We find it hard to believe that Jesus died for us while we were still sinners. I look down at Him as He reaches out for my disgusting flesh, and I cry to Him with tears streaming down my face, "Please Jesus, if you have to wash my feet, please let me clean them first!"
Some may think Jesus washing their feet may be about being a servant, but I think it's about grace.
Jesus washed the disciples' feet.
My feet are gross, to be quite honest. They are dirty, calloused, and unkept. I don't remember the last time I cut my toe-nails and pushed back my cuticles. After months of wearing flip-flops, my heels are cracked and dry, and are often punished in my improper study habits, as I pick at them subconsciously (or as Liz knows well, cutting at them with scissors- this I do consciously).
Hilary washed my feet once. I almost cried. If someone were to wash my feet right now, I would be horrified. I'd want to smooth my callouses, scrub off the old, dead skin, trim my nails, and maybe paint on a fresh coat of clear polish. Then I might let somebody wash my feet, but I would still be very hesitent.
Aren't we like that with Jesus? We cheapen grace by making ourselves feel worthy of the sacrifice. We pretty our lives up and get all religious, eventually reaching a point where our sufferings make us self-righteous and our pride makes us feel like we are easier for God to deal with. We clean our feet up before He gets to us with that wash basin, thinking that it's, one-easier for Jesus to touch us, and two- we don't feel so exposed or ashamed. The truth is that my feet still need to be cleaned just as badly by those precious, beautiful, humble hands.
We find it hard to believe that Jesus died for us while we were still sinners. I look down at Him as He reaches out for my disgusting flesh, and I cry to Him with tears streaming down my face, "Please Jesus, if you have to wash my feet, please let me clean them first!"
Some may think Jesus washing their feet may be about being a servant, but I think it's about grace.
posted by Monika at 10/19/2005 12:07:00 AM
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