Feetwashing

I had wanted to offer feetwashing over Christmas due to the conversation on this blog and even planned to one Sunday but decided it was not the appropriate response that week. We have offered it before at The Crossover on Sunday morning and the strongest memory of that was seeing one strong willed wife wash the feet of her quieter husband. It was very moving.

This Sunday I preached from Revelation 10 and talked about how the Christian life is both sweet and sour, and that 2006 will be both sweet and sour. What must our response be to the sourness of life? Though not in Revelatoin 10, John makes it very clear that our response is to love, which is ironic to me because the holidays (sorry the Christmas season) has pressed a few of my friends into rants about the culture pressing Christianity to the sidelines. But our calling is to love not to defend. It struck me as I looked at the core cultural icons of Christianity that they all called for vulnerability to the point of death. Baptism -- drowning, kill the old man inside of you. Communion -- take into your body the brokenness and bloodiness of the one who became most vulnerable. Why? So that you can defend yourself? I don't think so.

Then I moved to feet washing and noted that Jesus said at the beginning of John 13, "Now I want to show you the full extent of my love." When faced with sourness, we should lovingly bend down and address the problem, not with venom, but with gentle, careful application of water, loving truth. As an example, when my wife and I get into an argument, and I get sarcastic or decide to clam up, she should lovingly and gently take my soul and pour some truth and grace onto it. (Which she has lately and wonderfully.)

I washed Lance's dad's feet. Then to my surprise, he washed mine. Then I offered it to the congregation. I went and washed my wife's feet. Then a woman who has recently been divorced and who has been bending over backward to help out a woman recently released from prison came. It might have been the other woman who initiated it. The woman who had been released from prison washed the divorced woman's feet.

Then a Mexican guy who has recently moved to our area got up and walked to the back. I wasn't sure where he was going. He went and got the sound guy, Josh, and washed his feet. I'm not sure if Josh washed his feet or not. I didn't see.

Then a young woman who has suffered some depression got up and walked to the back. She went and got a middle aged man (struggling with some of his own brokenness) who more than anybody had shown her concern (in the most absolutely pure way). She washed his feet. Again I didn't see if he washed hers.

Finally, I went and washed the feet of a 24 year old woman who my wife and I have "adopted."

I found it all very moving. I'm not sure what everybody else thought. I did spill some bleach on my sweater and ruined it. Now I know why Jesus removed his outer garments.