Let Him Wash My Feet

Earlier this week I wrote about the importance to simply receive. On a similar vein, I am finding that being loved and accepted in our messiness is an act of receiving. Jesus washed his disciples feet just as his death was approaching. Peter's response, "You're not going to wash my feet." I think I find myself in the same boat. If I'm barefoot, I think twice before I get adjusted. Again, my "consideration" is that I'm messy, my feet are gross, and no one should have to touch them. But what if love involves the vulnerability of my mess, of dirt-and-mud-tracking feet, of prickly places in my heart and worst of all my own ignorance to it? I am resolved to love and accept myself as I am. I am resolved to trust myself to God and to others as I truly am, to be loved and accepted or to be rejected. More likely than not, it is I who am prone to self-rejection and am unwilling to let others love and serve me. 

Love is generous and dynamic, but not reciprocal. I may not enjoy the feeling of being vulnerable with my wife or my friends about how I really am, but part of a barefoot way of being is letting our feet be washed from time to time. And my feet are gross. 

This isn't an invitation to entitlement. This isn't an invitation to laziness. This is an invitation to love, and to simply receive it. When Jesus offers me a foot bath, I'm going to let him wash my feet.