Do You Know What I Have Done for You?

My first response to this question is "yes and no."  Yes, I know the story and I know God in the essence of my being.  But, do I truly know all that God has done for me?  Probably not.  I do not see clearly in my brokenness.  I sometimes navel gaze and miss what is going on around me.  I chase rabbit trails and then find myself lost.  I see dimly, as through a glass.

I love the Maundy Thursday service.  I cannot imagine not washing feet and sharing in Jesus' last meal with his disciples.  Yet, we have virtually forgotten this command in our churches.  We are fine with "go and baptize" and faithful to a tee in "do this in remembrance of me."  But, lowering ourselves to wash one another's feet?  We've somehow phased that out in our western religious practice with its puritanical fear of the body.

How many will come to service tonight determined not to have their feet washed?  Why do our feet expose such vulnerability?  Are we truly afraid of being touched by God?  Are we afraid of having our journey through the dark valleys exposed?  Are we afraid of being made well?  Are we afraid that others will think of us as less than?  Are we afraid of humbling ourselves in real service?

As I chatted with a Baptist minister before yesterday's funeral, he asked me about what I studied.  When I told him systematic theology, he sort of chuckled.  He then asked how I found myself in pastoral ministry.  As I fumbled to answer, he said "it really is all about loving people, plain and simple."  And I said, "yes, it is."  He then said "but we sure know how to complicate things, don't we?"  And I said "oh, yes, we do."

The truth of the good news, of Holy week, is that love wins.  Come and have your feet washed, your yoke made light, your being nourished by the God from whom we come and the God to whom we shall return.