4 so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. 5 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.
6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”
7 Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”
The act of washing feet is seen all through scripture. It is an act of service, an act of kindness and love. Many times a desperate love that truly has nothing to do with the feet at all.
I remember it vividly; driving down the highway, racing back to work with my best friend asking me questions and helping me plan my wedding. A wedding, a marriage I dreamed of, fervently prayed for, but more than that, a lasting relationship I so desired.
“How can I truly make this wedding day about God and His goodness?”
“You can wash each other’s feet!” My sweet friend said.
I snapped back immediately, “I don’t want him to wash my feet, I want him to wash my dishes.”
As soon as the words left my lips, it sounded as though I made a joke, but at that moment, I began weeping. Feet washing ceremonies are beautiful, the symbolism, the time spent to wash, to care for, but I didn’t want that at a ceremony, I wanted it every single day.
I was a single mom for 10 years, the day-to-day jobs were repetitive and exhausting, the bills were never ending, the laundry was always in heaps on “the chair”, the dishes… oh, the dishes… years and years without an electronic dishwasher and most of those years spent with too tiny of hands to truly help get the job done. God, I just wanted help, I wanted to be served.
Isn’t that what feet washing is? Serving?
And isn’t that what marriage is? Serve and be served?
We see pictures of feet washing on social media constantly. Would we wash the feet of the people we disagree with, with the politicians we don’t see eye to eye with, with the bullies, with the murderers, with the opposites? Maybe once…
But washing the dishes, a true service, a sacrifice, means so much more than the actual act of washing the feet… so here are my thoughts…
Will you wash your spouses feet every single day?
When they’re dirty
When they stink
When your hands are sore
When you’re not in the mood
When you’ve had a hard day
When they have caused you anger, sadness or disappointment…
Will you wash their feet then?
And by feet I mean dishes, and by dishes I mean… will you serve them no matter what?
I knew what I wanted in a husband far before I met mine, I wasn’t looking for a man to wash my feet, I was looking for a man who would wash my dishes.
To serve me, to let me serve him, every single day.
And He does.