Washing someone else's feet is actually easy. Easier than you would think. But having someone wash your feet is nothing short of excruciating.

‍

A Foot Washing in Santa Clara, Cuba

‍

Once, while doing door-to-door evangelism with our team in Cuba, a woman asked why I came. She explained how much our visits encouraged her and the others.

"You have no idea how much you encourage me," I told her. "You let me come into your community, into your homes, into your lives. You don't treat me like an outsider. You treat me like a close friend. I'm so moved and grateful, I don't know how I could ever thank you enough."

Eventually, I felt led to do something, and I still don't know what my exact reasoning was at the time. Sometimes we need to go where the Lord directs and not ask why. This was one of those moments.

"If there was something I felt led to do that would minister to me, would you all deny me that?"

"No," they said. "We would never deny something that would minister to you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Sit there."

I went into the kitchen and found a bin, a cup, some water, and a towel. When I came back and they saw what I was carrying, the objections started. "No, Pastor. No, no, no. You can't do that. No, no, no." They shook their heads and tucked their feet back under their chairs.

"You promised," I reminded them. "Will you go back on your word?" I knew they would not, so after some hard resistance they reluctantly obliged.

So I knelt down and explained how washing their feet was one small way to express what I didn't quite have the words to say.

When I finished, we were all crying. That's when they came back with something I was not expecting… it was one of the hardest things to receive in my entire life.

‍

‍

When They Turned the Question Back on Me

‍

"George, wait a minute."

"What?"

"If there was something we could do that would minister to us, would you deny us?"

I started backing up, "No, no, no, no, no. It doesn't work like that. It doesn't work like that." They weren't having it. "Wait a minute. You just said the same thing to us. Will you go back on your word?"

They had me. And I had no good answer.

They asked me to sit down, take off my shoes, and put my feet in the bin. I could hardly move. Truly, it was like I was stuck and could not move. It's the only time that has happened in my life. Everything in me was saying, "No, no, no. This can't happen. I can't let you do this. That's not why I am here."

A few minutes earlier, I had easily knelt before them. Now they wanted to kneel before me, and for the life of me, I'm telling you, I just could not receive it.

Finally, and I'm not being dramatic here, it was painful, I'm still not able to articulate why. But one by one, which only made it far worse, each of them did as I had done to them.

‍

Why We Need Our Feet Washed

‍

I understood Peter a little better that day. When Jesus came to him with the basin, Peter said, "Never shall You wash my feet!" (Jn. 13:8). It sounds humble, but underneath it was pride. Peter was glad to follow Jesus. He was not glad to be served by Him.

Jesus' answer stopped him cold: "If I do not wash you, you have no part with Me." He was talking about more than dirty feet. Nobody washes away their own sin. Either we let Jesus do it, or we have no part with Him.

‍

Should Churches Still Practice Foot Washing Today?

‍

Jesus told the disciples, "If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet" (Jn. 13:14).

Which makes me wonder. Jesus said we "ought" to do this, so why do so few churches practice it today? A few still do, and many Catholic churches do it the Thursday before Easter. But most of us have never done it once.

Some would say it was an example of humble service, not an ordinance like baptism or the Lord's Supper. Maybe so. But I can tell you from that living room in Cuba, there is something about kneeling with a towel, or sitting in that chair, that I had never experienced before.

‍

Being Served Leaves Us Exposed

‍

There is something about receiving that leaves us exposed. We're comfortable being the one with the towel. We can explain why we're serving.

But sitting in that chair? Letting someone bend down and wash your feet? I wasn't prepared for it that day. But then again, are any of us prepared to have someone serve us in such a tangible, powerful way?

Don't you see it? Can you not understand? That's what makes the Gospel of Jesus stop people dead in their tracks. We are fine serving Him. It's fairly easy if you think about it. But to hear Jesus say, "The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many," (Mk. 10:45) that's the dividing line between us and Him. It would otherwise be scandalous for the Universe's Creator to serve us, unless it were true.

‍

So Why Is It Hard to Let Someone Serve Me?

‍

Something changed in that living room in Santa Clara. To turn the question back on me, "Why is it so hard to let someone serve me?" I'm not sure. But I'm beginning to see that my pride has more to do with it than I'd like to admit.

‍

‍