To Serve Dirty Feet

The other day I ran with my daughter, Grace, while I pushed the baby in the jogging stroller.  This would end in somewhat of a nightmare with me pushing Josh, who is ten months old AND Grace who is almost seven.  I knew this would happen.  I knew she would somehow end up in the stroller, but I had high hopes and low expectations so when I was pushing the now 60 pound stroller I was not surprised.  But for one lap around the bayou (aka enormous drainage ditch) by our house, she jogged and prayed because that is what Mommy does when she runs.  We prayed for animals.  We prayed for her daddy to be cured of his allergies to cats so she could get a cat someday.  We prayed for her friend Annabelle who has the flu.  We prayed for our family.  We prayed for lots and lots of things.  Then it was my turn to pray.  I prayed for my husband…not so much the cat allergy issue…but prayer none the less.  I prayed for friends stepping into ministry with their everyday ordinary lives…I prayed for all of my precious children.  And I prayed for the man I had seen on the side of the road washing his own feet in a plastic bedpan.  I started to cry.

When we stopped praying, Grace asked me, “What did you do for that man?”  I told her with about 500 pounds of embarrassment how I had done nothing.  “You didn’t stop?” No. “You didn’t give him water?” No. “You didn’t give him food?” No.  “You didn’t wash his feet for him?” No.   “Mommy.  Jesus was so sad.” Yes.  Yes, He was.

Jesus was so sad y’all.

My shirt said, “SERVE” on it. 

My shirt said, “SERVE” on the front, and our mission statement at Pruning Hooks on the back:

Everyday ordinary women serving Jesus allowing their everyday ordinary lives to become extraordinary…

I had just left Generation One Academy dropping off bunches of peanut butter, paper lunch sacks, jelly, bread, pretzels, cheese crackers, clementines and Caprisuns.  All of the food had been donated in less than 48 hours by women and men who read an email and answered enormously.  There was extra, abundance, overflow and it was going to feed kids after they attended church on a Sunday and it was good.  When I dropped it off, I had the same joyful reception I always get…hugs, laughter, more hugs, kissing kiddos on top of their head, love for my baby who is always with me, tremendous blessings in my life.  While I was there, two of the people that head up the ministry even prayed over me.  It was unbelievable.  The Holy Spirit was all over that spontaneous prayer time.  Prayers like that don’t happen every day, and I knew I was standing on holy ground as we prayed.  I actually took off my orange converse and set them beside my chair.  Jesus was in that room…you could feel it.  I left there in awe of all God can do on a random Friday when you deliver food to people who need it.

My expectations for the day were totally blown out of the water.  What I had planned for, a quick in and out drop off, was derailed by Jesus and I was in love with my crazy Savior who knows exactly what I need, and puts exactly the right people in my path at exactly the right moment. I needed that prayer…that encouragement…more than ever, and I never would have asked to interrupt their day to pray over me…but they did because God is big.   I turned off the cd in my car and just sat in utter silence thanking Jesus for all that had just happened…for the prayers and the love and for Him.  I got HIM in an office while we prayed. 

I turned onto the access road to get back on the highway and head home.  The traffic looked horrible.  My baby was already asleep which meant the drive home would be quiet and peaceful and no one would scream for an hour…Me and Jesus and my awesome shirt in my minivan…so good. 

He was sitting in a little section of grass between a convenient store and another building.  There was trash everywhere.  He was sitting on a piece of concrete and he was super old.  He was very obviously homeless…he had the tell tale shopping cart filled with random trash bags next to him.  His hair was crazy and most of his teeth were gone.  I had seen him before.  I think I had given him water before. But that day, as I waited in a long long long line of motionless cars, I simply watched him. His feet were in a plastic pink bedpan.  His pants were rolled up to just below the knees. He was washing his feet.   I watched him scrub soapless water up his legs with his hands in a fist…he seemed determined to get his legs and feet clean.  A man was washing his own feet in a bedpan on the side of the road…while I watched him in an endless line of traffic waiting to get on the highway.  This image is sticking with me forever I think.

   What bigger sign post was I looking for?  What larger- than- life- here- is- a- person- in- need- don’t- miss- this- while- you- sit- and- stare- at- him sign was I waiting on?  What were my expectations after having received a double portion of the love of Jesus that morning with the people at Generation One?  Did I expect Jesus to say not to follow Him for the next half hour if it got to be too much?  Did I expect Jesus to say that I needed a break with all the love and goodness going on and I should totally not worry about the man washing his feet on the side of the road?  Because I was in my minivan y’all.  I was enjoying time with my Savior y’all.  I was having some quiet time.  My baby was asleep. 

 This is who I am willing to leave behind.

This is who doesn’t make the cut.

This is who is left to wash their own feet.

Because who cares if a crazy old homeless man is washing his feet on the side of a road…

Jesus cares.  Jesus loves that man.  He has loved him his whole life.  He loves the crazy old homeless man as much as He loves me.  He has loved him every step of his journey.  He sees him every day.  He hears his prayers as loudly as he hears mine.  He came for people just like him.  He orchestrated a morning of events to intersect my path with his so I would stop and serve the man on the side of the road…and I just didn’t. 

I am leaving people to wash their own feet. 

 

I am missing His people.  I am missing His people He put in my path.  I am not seeing them.  I am not loving them.  I am not asking their name, or offering them my hands or my heart or my time.  I am willing to drive by.   I am willing to walk past.  Not to everyone…just some…just the ones in really bad shape…and y’all it’s not ok.  I am driving by people on the side of the road washing their own feet, and Jesus was real clear on that one…

The night before Jesus was headed to the cross…not the night before He was headed out of town, or in a hurry, or really tired…the night before He was headed to the CROSS…Jesus “showed them (His disciples) the full extent of His love.” (John 13:1) He didn’t give them money or presents or even a greeting card.  He washed their feet.  He did what lowly servants would do, and washed the feet of the people who FOLLOWED Him.  He washed dirty stinky poor men’s feet.  It was not a quick clean.  They wore sandals.  Their feet were dirty.  Some of them had nail fungus or athletes foot.  Some of them hadn’t cut their toe nails.  Some of them had bunions and calluses, and the hands of the Creator of the Universe picked up those dirty feet and held them in His hands and cleaned them all up.  We don’t read a commentary in the Bible about who’s feet were grosser or who’s feet really really really took a long  time to scrub…we just know that Jesus cleaned them and held them in His hands because He loved them.

“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet.  I have set an example that you should do as I have done for you.  I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor a messenger greater than the one who sent him.  Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” (John 13:14-17)

My dirty, stinky feet have been cleaned too.  And let me tell you, they are not pretty.  They are rough and have cracks…they are not dainty and cute…they are big and wide and with built in tan lines from my year round flip flops…And Jesus washes them.  He sees me and He loves me and He cleans my feet all the time.  Whenever He sees that they are particularly worn and tired, He cleans my feet.  He takes care of me.  He provides what I need.  He loves me.  And then He tells me to do the same for others…for anyone…For Anyone.  There is no description of who it will be, just that there will be people who will need their feet washed and I am supposed to wash them because He set an example for us to follow.  I don’t get to choose.  I don’t get to pick the pretty ones.  Or the ones who will stay clean.  Or the ones who will get better.  Or the ones who will say, “Thank You.”  My job is just to carry around a bucket of water every day to wash people’s feet. And to actually do it.  To actually SERVE.  To do more than wear the shirt…do more than just show up…grab my bucket and some dirty stinky feet and tell someone that God never wants you to be alone.  God never wants you to be over looked.  God never wants you to feel disgusting. God never wants you to wash your own feet. 

I believe there are people all around us, some more obvious than others, parked all along the road of our life washing their own feet.  Some are poor and hungry, some are drowning in debt, some just found out they have cancer, some just lost their child, some are losing their marriages, some are hiding anxiety, some are abused and beaten, some are addicts, some are angry and bitter at all that life has handed them and life, y’all, has been really hard.  And they have taken up shop on the side of the road and started to scrub their feet and legs with soapless water trying desperately to get their feet clean.  No one likes dirty feet.  And we are walking by, and walking on and walking away…

So, today, let your hands get a little dirty as you clean someone’s feet.  Take the time.  Sit next to them, listen to their story as you scrub the grime away.  Look a little more like the Servant Savior who came to love while washing feet.  And one less person will feel alone and forgotten.  And someday they might be able to pick up their bucket too to join the growing brigade of feet washers following in the footsteps of Jesus.

SERVE.