Memories of a Foot Washing

Reading this week's scripture of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples brought back a memory of another time when I read this story. As it sometimes happens to me, I had opened my Bible to look something else up and was instead brought to this story.

I read the story of Jesus washing the disciples' feet. I remember reading it slowly, and feeling as if all my senses were awakened. I got a clear picture of what the room might have looked like, right down to the lighting, the smell of the food and the feel of the air. I saw Jesus put on the apron and pour the water, and begin moving from one person to the next. I felt the questions, confusion and discomfort of the disciples. Then I realized he was at my feet. I was not an outsider looking in, I was there.

I felt every protest rise up in me, as voiced by Peter in the story. But as Jesus looked into my face the only thing I wanted was for my unworthiness to be washed away. To surrender to all that he was offering me.

Reading Andrea's post and what she discovered in her commentary brought it all back. Pride rebuked. Love offered. The most humbling act of service provided. My Lord washing my feet.

-Candice