I
love the rare afternoons like this here in Chicago. A gentle rain falls from
the darkening skies surrounding the city, aroma’s of a hot pumpkin spice latte
fill the air, the house is quiet, and I don’t have anywhere to be in the next
few hours. A small unexpected gift of time to sit here and meditate on the
Word, do some writing, and just think. It would seem life has forced me to do a
lot of that this past week.
A few
days ago, I sat at the funeral of a beautiful, 13 year old girl who was killed
last week.
In
that I watched a lot of middle school students walk through a line and say
goodbye to their classmate. The previous night I had sat and just listened to a
room full of junior high girls who shared memories and wept over the loss of a
good friend. Life became a lot heavier this week.
I’m
not sure I’ll really understand something like this.
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In my
time in the Word, I have slowly been making my way through the book of John. I
was struck this last week with the sudden transition from the miracles in the
first 11 chapters, to finding Jesus in His final Passover Week (John 12&13).
As He comes into Jerusalem and is met with shouts and praises from the people,
you find only a few verses later Jesus sitting down at his last meal with the
disciples.
Vs. 3“And
Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that he
had come from God and was going back to God….”
I
love that Jesus had all things in His hands. I love the truth that Jesus knew
all things before time even began. I love the truth that the Cross was such a
choice of Jesus Himself, that none of this was a surprise to Him, and that
nothing was out of His control. No one could take His life from Him. No one
could thwart His plans or His purpose for this event.
Not even
John 13:2, “During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of
Judas Iscariot to betray him….”
Knowing
exactly what Judas was about to do to Him, knowing exactly what Peter would
say, knowing exactly how all of these men in the room with Him, would in the
moment of decision, flee from Him….
In
this moment, the very Creator of all things…..
“Rose
from supper.”
“He
laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist.
Then…..He
poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet….”
The
very hands that had knit them together in their mother’s wombs were washing
their feet. The very hands that would soon be covered in blood and pierced by
nails- these hands were gently, slowly, washing the dirt away. The very hands
that would be bound and shackled, were washing the feet of even the enemy that
would betray and sell Him?
Silence
must have filled the room as the Word that had become flesh knelt down in front
of each of the disciples.
“Lord,
you’re going to wash my feet?” –Peter
“What I
am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.”
– Jesus
The
tension that arises in Peter, arises in my own heart.
“Not
this Lord. Not this kind of work. You shouldn’t be doing this. This is for the
slaves, for those underneath you. You shouldn’t have to love like this. Not,
like this.”
And
gently, Jesus loves Peter enough to tell him how badly his feet need to be
washed.
All
filled with grace and truth, He reminds Peter once again how badly he needs his
sins washed away.
And no
one else can do that for Peter. Only Jesus.
And
this is the only way. The cross is the only way. The washing by the blood is
the only way for Peter to be made clean. For Peter to be healed and whole.
“Not
yet, but soon you’re going to get this Peter. Soon you’re going to understand
what all of this means.” – Jesus
Even
this disciple who had walked with Jesus personally for 3 years needed his feet
to be washed.
Even
this disciple needed to understand his need for the blood of Jesus.
And
as both a beautiful act of humility and service, more importantly Jesus
signified to the 12 in the room that He had come, come to wash away their sins.
He
had come to redeem them.
I
need my feet to be washed.
Cheyenne
needed her feet to be washed.
Every
person sitting at that funeral looking death in the face needed their feet to
be washed.
All
of my roommates, all of my students need their feet to be washed.
There
is not one, no not one who could stand as Jesus kneels down to wash them and
say, “I don’t need that. I don’t need You.”
That
has been the cry of my heart this week. That we would understand first in our
own hearts how badly we need the gospel, and that all others would come to
recognize their need as well.
Because
it’s when you look at death so closely that you get this heavy weight of
eternity that just aches inside of you. And you hope beyond hope, that those
you love comprehend the glories of the gospel and invite Jesus to wash their
feet.
Because
my friend, death is coming for all of us.
In light
of eternity, we’ll be there standing there in about 10 minutes.
And in
that moment when I am flat on my face in front of the throne of unspeakable
glory and the presence of Jesus Christ Himself, the only thing that will matter….
Yes,
the only thing that will matter…
Did I
let Him wash me clean by His blood?
I
found the love of Jesus in these verses so incredibly beautiful and profound. And
it forced me to stand in the weight of eternity and turn my eyes to the glory
of the gospel.
May
it do the same for you.
