A "Nudge" to Action
I’ll be honest: when foot washing is announced, my heart sinks. The pastor might as well declare, “We’ll be dividing up for kickball teams. Go stand in the foyer and start feeling like a loser.”
Aware that my thoughts are completely selfish (which triggers guilt which focuses me ever more inward), I panic. Who will pick me? Will anyone invite me, or is everyone already taken? Will I be left, once again, alone?
If I miraculously find myself with a partner, I — without fail! — discover that today is the one day of the year that I wore nylons with runs in both feet or came to church with half my toenail polish chipped off. I want to hide.
Then, as if the futility of spreading a teaspoon of tepid water over a stranger’s feet and pretending to dry them with sandpaper isn’t stilted enough, there’s the prayer. I am not a good pray-er. Everyone I pray with acts as if they’re waiting for something more — more words? more sincerity? more spirituality? I look around when we’re done and see other women still praying, still weeping, still talking, still hugging. I just can’t seem to get it right.
This is the “baggage” I lugged to my time with John 13:1-17 this morning. My initial urge was to simply skip it (which would be par for the course; I’ve often escaped to the bathroom during foot washing.) But I’m glad I didn’t. I had several “ah-HA!” moments as I read, prayed, re-read, and meditated on this passage.
“Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.” I had to read this twice to make sure I hadn’t turned ahead to the crucifixion — that’s what I expected “the full extent of his love” would refer to. But what occurs directly after this phrase is Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet. Something about this ceremony is His expression of “the full extent of his love.” Not a glimpse of his love. Not a partial unveiling. A total revelation of the full extent of his love. That’s big.
“You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Jesus makes it clear that his disciples are going to be confused! That I am often going to be confused. (Huh?!?) But he does it anyhow. He doesn’t wait for perfect clarity. He doesn’t wait until I’m in the Zone of Proximal Development. He doesn’t wait ’til my individual comfort zone has expanded to include Him. He does what He needs to do, what I need Him to do, even though understanding is a ways down the road. He knows I’m not going to get it right…yet. And He’s okay with that.
“No…you shall never wash my feet.” This is Peter. And this is me. I balk, sometimes from independence (“Lord, I don’t need Your help; I can do this on my own while You take care of someone who actually needs You!) sometimes from shame (“Lord, You shouldn’t have to stoop this low; I’m so sorry to be so needy…) “Then, Lord, not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” Again, this is Peter. And, again, me. No middle-of-the-road. Moderation? A foreign concept. We’re all-or-nothing, all the way. Jesus’ response? No lecture on avoiding extremes. He oh-so-gently refocuses Peter, and me, on what He is doing.
“Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” Knowledge is a means to an end. I won’t be blessed by knowledge but by applying knowledge. By doing.
I’m not going to tack a happy ending on this blog and say that I can’t wait until the next time foot washing is announced at church. One morning’s quiet time hasn’t totally transformed how I think, feel, and behave.
But it has given me much to think, pray, and listen for guidance about. I know from experience that a nudge will come. Instead of fretting about my nylons or nail polish, I’ll focus on sensing, understanding, and acting on that nudge.
“A “Nudge” to Action”
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