The whole foot thing

By the way, I think God is trying to tell me something. Since I posted yesterday about the pedicurist and the amazing humility that it would take to wash someone's stinky, sweaty, dirty feet here, the whole thing about the foot washing has come up in a couple of other places. Yesterday evening, I was flipping through an old Oprah magazine that we have laying around (it's a year old now, so I've forgotten everything that I read in it when I brought it back with me from Canada last year!), and there was an article about, what else, but a woman who went to a foot washing service in her church in the States somewhere. And then, this morning, since we had electricity, I went online to listen to a sermon from my home church. And what was the topic of the one that popped up first - you guessed it. The whole foot washing thing!

It struck me from these two other sources how intimate the whole foot washing thing is. I mean, it's easy to take the "lesson" from the whole foot washing thing as being the fact that we should humbly do acts of service for those around us. That we should be servant leaders. That we should not be afraid to get down on our hands and knees and do the dirty work.

But it's more than that, too. It is a very intimate thing to wash someone's feet. I mean, most of us don't really feel comfortable with strangers touching our feet, or touching a stranger's feet (ok, unless it's a professional pedicurist, and I've only had three pedicures in my whole life, but it does take a bit of getting used to to have a woman washing and scrubbing and getting all the toe jam out of all the knooks and crannies of your toes).

So I was quite convicted today of the fact that in order to serve people, I don't just have to give them some money for their school fees, or give them a ride to the airport or bring them a cup of tea once in a while. No, it's more than that. It means getting down and getting to know someone. It means getting to know them so well that I know that their first toe is longer than their big toe, or that they lost their baby toe nail in a childhood accident... or whatever it is. "Washing someone's feet" is uncomfortable, and it's intimate (not in a sexual sense, of course, but in a way that you have to get to know someone, and be willing and able to be known by them, as well).

It means that I need to be able to get up at 5:30am when someone feels sick and just needs an ear to listen, without complaining about it! It means that I need to be able to sit and listen and take the time to talk when someone asks for help. It means that I need to be interested enough in people's lives to ask questions and take the time to listen to the answers and think of creative ways to serve them - not just do whatever's most convenient or quickest. It also means that I need to be known, as well, and to let people serve me, when I need it, and be open to that reciprocol sort of relationship that results between the washer and the wash-ee.

It ain't easy, but I think God's trying to tell me something this week! And I'm reminded of it every time I look down at my beautiful pink toe-nails... which I washed and scrubbed and painted myself...