I grew up in the Church of the Brethren.  A couple of times a year we worshiped at Love Feast.  At Love Feast, we ate a simple meal, shared in communion, and washed each others feet.  It is a beautiful tradition of remembering and one I wish more churches would follow.
Once my sister and I became believers, we were invited to attend Love Feast.  My mom carefully instructed us how to scrub our feet prior to leaving for church.  The idea was that we didn't want our simple act of remembering to become a real foot cleaning of sorts.  That might make people feel uncomfortable.
And then there was him.
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As Lynsay and I examined his feet, we wondered aloud at what good cleaning them could possibly do.  He lives in the slums of Kampala, without shoes or a place to lay his weary body.  His feet are the least of his concerns and yet they hurt and desperately need attention.
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So Lynsay and I set out to wash them.  We scrubbed and pulled and scoured them.  They smelled like rotting flesh that would gag you if you lingered too long and had callouses as thick as my entire foot.  And as we washed, Lynsay and I wondered aloud again about the day Jesus washed his disciples' feet.  Men who were wanderers with our Savior, perhaps also lacking shoes and certainly without a place to call home.
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What were their feet like as their King bent to wash them?
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As I prepare to return to my comfy home in Chicago (and to squeeze my sweet babies) I am challenged by this image.  How often do I fail to serve because it is inconvenient for me?  Or because I'm not called "there?"  Or because I might get dirty, or worse, hurt?  When is the last time I was on my knees serving the least of these in the most uncomfortable and intimate way?
  "It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.  The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus.  Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God;  so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. 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. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”  “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”  “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”  Jesus answered, “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.”  For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean. When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet.  I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is 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: 1-17
How dirty were my feet when Jesus washed them?How dirty are they still?
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