I’ve got this, I think as I turn to John 13.
I’ve found life here before. In these words. In this story.
Back in the year of Haiti and hospice and respite foster care. Back in the year of learning to love well even when time was short.
I know what to hear. I know what to expect.
Until I don’t.
Close your eyes, my pastor says, and picture yourself there.
The God of the universe, seeing through your dirt to his image. Stooping to wash your feet.
I try, but I feel myself physically pull away.
Somebody give me a floor to sweep, a pile of dishes to wash. Anything.
I know what to do with a broom, a sponge. But this?
We think pride is failing to stoop. Failing to serve. And it is.
But what about refusing to meet his gaze
Pleading to wash our own feet
Or protesting mightily that our feet aren’t really that dirty after all?
This too is pride.
It’s true. The washing of regeneration was once for all.
But the washing for renewal, for transformation
Today, the God of the universe sees through our dirt to his image.
He’s stooping to wash our feet.
The truth is I’m still learning.
Sometimes I think I know what to hear, what to expect.
I haven’t got this.
But he does.