Foot Washing

The Lord Jesus on the night he was betrayed knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.
The evening meal was being served, when Jesus got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. Their teacher, their master, Jesus, stood before them dressed in something like a long undershirt. That’s the way slaves would have been dressed to serve a meal. He tied a towel around his waist and poured water into a basin. He began to wash their feet, drying them as he went with the towel that was wrapped around him.
It would have been shocking, even embarrassing to the disciples present. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?"
It wasn’t really about feet. There was something bigger happening here. The one into whose hands the Father had given everything now takes his disciples' dirty feet into his hands to wash them
"No," Peter said, "no, you shall never wash my feet." But Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me."
Peter, never one to do anything halfway, responds, "Then, Lord, give me a bath all over! Wash my head, my hands, everything!"
But Jesus said, "No, you are already clean; you need only to have your feet washed."

The disciples had already been cleansed of their sins, they already belonged to Jesus, and as Jesus had said, nothing could snatch them from his hand-- except for Judas, into whose heart the evil had already entered and was even now doing its work.

But walking through the streets of ancient Jerusalem gets your feet dirty, just as walking through the world of today gets your soul dirty, even those of us for whom the price has been paid. We begin to pick up the attitudes of the world around us -- sometimes without being aware of it. That was what had happened to the disciples, and that is what happens to us today.

And so Jesus washes their feet. The remedy for dirty feet is foot washing. And the remedy for a dirty soul is washing too; The Apostle John was there. The Lord knelt before him that night and washed his feet like all the others. He would later write, “but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness”.
When we gather around the Lord's Table, it is just as though we were put back into the same situation that the disciples experienced.

The Lord is here washing our feet this morning. And as we remember him through the taking of this bread and this cup, as we examine ourselves, and confess our sins to him in silent prayer, his blood is continuing to purify us from all sin.

It is only because we are his that we could ever be clean all over in the first place,
and it is only because we humble ourselves, and allow him to wash even our feet, our dirty, unpresentable feet, as he kneels before us with a towel, can the defilement that our souls have picked up this last week be washed away now.

Come to the Table

And he began to teach them saying:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

With that the upside down world of the Sermon on the Mount begins.

I would like to be rich in spirit, but I’m not. I would like the room to light up with the generosity of my spirit, my courageous tranquility, and noble charm whenever I walk in, but it doesn’t. But today the good news is even the poor in spirit have been invited.

The King sent out his servants with the invitation, “Come to the Wedding Banquet of my Son.” But the prominent and worthy bidden guests that were first invited proved to be unworthy, couldn't be bothered, had better things to do, so now he has gone out on the streets and invited whosoever will to come in.

The prophet Isaiah was aware of his spiritual poverty.

"Woe to me!" I cried. "I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty.

The Apostle Paul writes,
I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway. When I want to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong. I love God’s law with all my heart. But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me. Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?

Spiritual poverty has been a hallmark of all of God’s great servants down through the years. David the murderer, Abraham the liar, Peter the hothead and turncoat, Jacob the swindler. God only uses imperfect people, but when he lays his spirit on them mighty things begin to happen.

For without an awareness of our own spiritual poverty it is impossible to please him. An “atheist" can't find God for the same reason a thief can't find a policeman. He feels “no need”, doing what is right in his own eyes.

But one day he becomes aware of what might be called a cancer of the soul. It becomes impossible to ignore it, the sin by now is running wild unchecked throughout his spirit, and a craving grows within him for righteousness, a real righteousness that he knows he has never had.

You, fellow Christian, may have stood for years outside the gates of prayer dressed in nothing but your raggedy scraps of threadbare morality, holding up your little cardboard sign, “will work for salvation.”

I finally laid down my sign, and bowed my head.

And then the Father comes and clothes you in his best robe, and puts sandals on your feet.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.
Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Let me assure you, if I can be invited to the table, so can you.