SCRIPTURE
JOHN 13:1-17
 
It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the
hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father.
Having loved his own who were in the world,
he loved them to the end.
 
So he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and
wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water
into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them
with the towel that was wrapped around him.
 
No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”
 
Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you,
you have no part with me.”
 
—JOHN 13:1, 4-5, 8

This story may seem out of place in Advent, but it has a lot to say to us as we wait. The disciples around this Passover table were also waiting for God to act. In fact, all the Jewish people were waiting for the promised Messiah to overpower the Romans and make Israel great again. Now, after the triumphal entry and the rising fury of the religious leaders, the disciples just knew something big was about to happen.

With everyone around Jesus waiting for him to instigate some cataclysmic event, Jesus gets up from the table and—washes their feet? They were waiting for Jesus to do something big and glorious, and this was shockingly small and dirty. Here, in the midst of a group waiting for a king to show up, Jesus provides the clearest picture of who our King is and what our King does.

Many of us, like the disciples, are eager for God to get to work “out there,” fixing all that is wrong in the world. In the darkness of our Advent waiting, we long for God to bring an end to the injustice, deception, suffering, and evil that ran rampant in our world. We dream of the day God will vanquish our enemies in a big way. But what if, while we wait for God to get to work out there, Jesus decides to show up in here, right at our very feet, with a towel and a basin? Or maybe, for those of us who are not accustomed to foot-washing, Jesus shows up to scrub our bathroom, clean out our storage unit, or tackle that pile of dishes in the sink. Whatever the metaphor, we are given an image of Jesus voluntarily stooping down into the muck of our lives to care for us in the places we're too embarrassed to let anyone else touch.

Sometimes I think it would be easier if Jesus were only interested in the big picture. The way he wants to talk about and touch on such deeply personal things feels intimidating and even risky. I am ready to show Jesus how good I am at serving people—but he asks if I am ready to let him serve me. I'm good at pointing out what those people need over there, but he asks what I want him to do for me. I want Jesus to go out and heal the world—but he asks me to show him my wounds, my grief, my disappointment.

This whole being-loved-to-the-end thing requires a lot of us. And when we are tempted to balk at his outrageous request to enter into the dirtiest details of our lives, we are reminded of his response to Peter, which is essentially, “Well, it’s this or nothing.” In loving us to the end, Jesus invites us to let him into the very end of ourselves—so that nothing is left untouched or hidden away. It isn’t easy to open ourselves up like that. It requires courage, vulnerability, and humility. And it is deeply good.

So what happens if we’re just not ready yet to let Jesus into the muck? Perhaps the very best news of all is that this is not only a once-in-a-life-time opportunity. The steadfast love of the Lord is new every morning. Jesus is ready whenever we are.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION, DISCUSSION, AND PRAYER

Do you find it easier to imagine God acting in great power “out there,” or in loving service “in here”?

How does it feel to think of Jesus stooping down to serve you?

How is God asking you to let yourself be loved today?