Holy Week

Feet Washing in the Age of Hand Washing

Feet Washing in the Age of Hand Washing

It’s Holy Week.

I feel inspired and passionately spurred on, which means you’ll be seeing a few extra posts from me this week. My hope is that they will encourage you during this difficult time. We can admit that, right? This crisis is a difficult time for us all in some way or another. We are all being effected. Our routines messed up. Plans on hold. Life is different.

I’ve been thinking about COVID-19 in relation to Easter. What a juxtaposition of events. I think that’s what fires me up most. Death comes (it’s purpose!!) to steal, kill and destroy, but man Jesus came on the scene and was like, “I see your death and I raise you a RESURRECTION!”

That’s powerful.

But today I’m not talking about Jesus’ resurrection. I’m backing up a little bit to the Thursday before that amazing resurrection Sunday. The day that Jesus and His disciples were celebrating the Passover together. Later that same night, He would be betrayed, arrested and accused.

If you read John’s account of that night (John 13) he shares how before dinner Jesus got up from the table and prepared a foot washing station for His disciples. All of them mind you. Judas included who, John tells us, had already been prompted to betray Jesus.

And we know Jesus is aware of this, too. If you read a little further (verse 21) Jesus let’s them all in on that secret. “Someone here is going to betray me.” Eleven of them stumped and horrified at this news. One released to do what he intended on doing.

Jesus washed Judas’ feet.

I can’t understand this. Every year I meditate on this Truth– that the Son of God would stoop down and wash the stinky, disgusting feet of a traitor.

How absolutely humbling when I think about the people who have stabbed me in the back or spoken unkind, hurtful words to me. I don’t want to be within 10 feet of them (Have I mentioned I love social distancing 😉 ) let alone wash their stinking feet.

Worse yet, Jesus washed His disciples feet so He could show them what He expects them to do, too. Or rather, US to do.

If Jesus was just washing the disciples feet to show us how humble and wonderful He was that would be GREAT. But you want me to do that too? Uhhhh. Not so great. In fact, I do NOT want to do that. Are there some other options? Something less….messy.

Alas, that is not the case and we are in fact strongly encouraged (aka voluntold) to do this. Which begs the question: How do we wash feet in the age of hand washing?

How do we exemplify this in a practical way? No, I don’t think we need to go around actually washing people’s feet. Social distancing again, remember? Jesus was showing the heart of the issue and not the method. Humbly lowing ourselves to serve was the point. Not the feet.

During a global pandemic, it practically looks like washing your hands and staying home for the health of those around you when you’d rather be out and about doing just about anything. On a more personal level, it might mean calling a person and saying, “I know we don’t see eye to eye, but I want you to know love and unity matters to me more than my opinion or being right.”

Humility is shown in action/service. Though this is a season where we are separated and isolated we can still follow Jesus’ example. We don’t get a free pass here. I’m praying and asking God to help me. This isn’t easy and I don’t like it, but then I picture my Savior, my beautiful Savior, stooped down and showing me how it can be done. It must be done. Not as some religious requirement, but rooted in love. Just like when He did it.

 

 

 

Rising Up From the Ashes

Rising Up From the Ashes

This one is for the people who find themselves burnt out from life or ministry or marriage or disappointment or anxiety….or whatever is leaving you a heap on the floor (literally or figuratively).

I’ve been burnt out for a number of years now. It’s not a new realization by any means. I knew it. I tried to deny it out of shame convinced if I was a good enough Christian I wouldn’t be feeling this way. It was this drive that sent me deeper, much deeper into this pit where I was determined I could serve my way out of this condition.

Serving. That was my hamster wheel that kept me spinning endlessly and getting nowhere but tired and angry and hurting. Things that once brought me pleasure and joy now left me anxious and bitter and I wonder if I was ever called to ministry after all. I question my purpose and calling, which has been the very core of my being since I was a kid.

It was…is.. my identity. It has entwined itself around my worth and in order to be loved I needed to DO. Holly wasn’t enough. Rather Holly simply BEING wasn’t enough.

So, here I sit in my ashes.

There’s a story of man named Job who had everything he could have ever wanted– money, prestige, family, friends, a thriving business. Then, one day, he lost it all. He lost his family, his health, his wealth and found himself in an ash heap. He sat there (according to Job 2:8, CEV) to show his sorrow.

Ashes can so often represent destruction and devastation. Earlier this year, Australia experienced horrific wildfires that destroyed more than a fifth of the country’s forests. People and animals died, too. Sure sounds like devastation to me.

And yet, every time I think of ashes I am reminded of the Phoenix. A Greek mythological legend says the bird dies by bursting into flames and then is reborn from its ashes. In its death there is renewal and resurrection. It does not limp or walk away from its ash heap. It SOARS away with a grand, majestic and glorious display of strength and vigor.

As we enter this Holy week, that is the image I am mediating on because that is the image Christ Himself exemplified. Not some folklore story mind you, but an actual literal empty grave where His body once lay. Christ did not limp from the borrowed tomb, but victoriously trampled death, disease, discouragement and everything in-between.

In doing so, He has given that same victory to me (and YOU)– to soar on the wings like eagles (& Phoenixes) , to run and not grow weary (or burnt out), they will walk (not limp) and not be faint (Isaiah 40:31, NIV with parenthetic additions made by yours truly).

To go back to our friend Job, he didn’t limp away from his ash heap, either. In fact, he got back everything that had been taken from him and MORE. As you’ve reflected on what has been lost maybe you need that reminder. You will get back more than you had before.

In your marriage that has been on the brink of divorce you will see redemption. In your soul that has been wracked by anxiety you will experience a peace that transcends even a global pandemic.

In my burn out, I believe, a passion will be reignited that will propel me on to do the very thing(s) I was created to do. Not to get love, but from a beautiful understanding that I am loved simply for who I am and not the ways I serve.

Rise up from the ashes, friends! Soar!